Fake It .:Private:.

[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

SOMETIMES I FIND IT HARD
• to believe there's someone else who could be •
JUST AS MESSED UP AS ME

Lights. Camera. Action. Ever since he had arrived at Stella Fiore, not more than a day or so ago, Nightingale had felt as if he were on a stage; meant only to please other people, and worry nothing about himself. Acting had never been something he had been good at, even when they were merely practice sessions with his tutor. Not that those had been very frequent to begin with; in the last month he had learned to do more things than he had thought was humanly possible in such a short amount of time. It wasn't as though he had much choice; literal 'do or die' situations tend to knock sense into some people. Not that such a thing applied to Nightingale himself. He wasn't one who often listened to what others had to say, or if he did, actually take them to heart. Yet here he was, supposedly to save his own life, pretending to be something he wasn't. A lady.

With quick, precise motions, Night made his way past yet another book of shelves. He couldn't believe it. Theodore must have had a spiteful streak or something; there was no other reason for it. Really, it wasn't as though people were actually dense enough to believe such a thing. He couldn't be that feminine, could he? Yet here he was, already freaking enrolled, storming through an unfamiliar place in hopes to calm his nerves. Now, some might ask; why the the library? Truthfully, even Night didn't know. He just went where his feet led him while hoping that his feet had enough common sense to keep out of the way of other people. The last thing he wanted was to find some poor, unsuspecting soul that wished to talk to him. He could only imagine how badly that would end.

With a sharp tug, he was brought out of his thoughts only to notice that his wig had caught on a faintly loose nail, which only caused his scowl to deepen. How in the world did the opposite gender manage to deal with this kind of thing all the time? With a bit more force then necessary, he tugged the deep blue strands free and continued through the shelves. He just couldn't get it out of his head, the plain stupidity of this idea. Even his clothes were uncomfortable, and not just because it was a dress. The thing was a light blue, which was alright, but there were just so many ribbons. And frills, which of course helped to hide the fact that he wasn't what he appeared to be. It was such a pain, to haul the seemingly massive amounts of cloth around. movement was a skill he appreciated having, thank you very much.

All it took was another turn for him to figure out he was lost. Night had never had the best sense of direction, but this was ridiculous. Every shelf looked the same to him, even with the different titles on each one. With an irritated sigh and a small kick to the shelf at the end of the dead end he was currently standing in, he made up his mind. He crossed his arms defiantly over his chest, whirled around, and sat with his back against the shelf, his eyes aimed towards the cieling. He'd just stay here for the next three years; it might be easier than trying to convince everyone he's someone from the opposite gender. He scowled slightly, adjusting the small hat keeping his hair over his right eye almost as if by habit. "Haven't been at this bloody school for a week yet and I've already managed to get myself lost. When I get back, Theodore is going to damn well pay for this." He continued muttering curses under his breath, glaring daggers at the cieling. He had no idea how he was going to get out of there.

TAGGED ! Amadeo Silvius Robespierre
WORDS ! 652 (short...)
LYRICS ! sometimes by skillet
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! Sorry it took so long.. Oh, and I'm not sure if it makes the most sense...

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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Ah, what a day today had been. That in itself was the best compliment he could give this divine epoch. It had been a rather relaxing one – relaxing that, in the terms of being a class F butler, meant only having to tend to five ladies today before having himself dismissed in favour of a “shift” change with the other available class F butlers. Much as he loved his job, he couldn’t protest against this schedule. After all, he’d already seen firsthand the toll it took on him if he went a whole day catering to every slight and ridiculously unfathomable requests bestowed upon him by the dominating female population in this school. An unsuspecting female student here that had not been a lady had become the outlet for the pent-up rage he’d kept in the whole day, as he went on to scold her horseback riding after hours without even possibly considering that she was indeed a student here. Had he known that earlier, he would have saved himself quite a bit of trouble, but that was the deal with emotions, particularly extreme ones like anger. It made your thinking rather clouded, and even the most simplistic things escaped you. This was why he often tended to shy away from these extremities – and maybe even emotions in general – to be able to perform his duties to his fullest extent. The last thing he needed was to be booted out of this school. If he was, where would he go? Back to his relatives’? No, he refused to do that. Along with their worn-out house, he had left that all behind as reminders of his past. He would not face that again unless he absolutely had to, and for that to happen, he had to do his best here. It wouldn’t be too hard; he loved this job, after all, despite the irritating commands here and there.

That whole “shift switching” was the reason why Amadeo now strode the halls of Stella Fiore Academy in pursuit of some more relaxing venues. At first, he’d thought to retire to his room for a while and play his violin, as was his most relaxing outlet. However, he’d caught himself on time, realizing that if he did that, he’d surely have some complaints from the neighbours. Not from horrible music, of course – he played quite splendidly – but because they (being the other butlers) would be raging on and on about how unfair it was that he got a break and they didn’t. Well, if only those fools knew the more rigorous tasks of a class F such as himself, they would surely shut their mouths in less than a second. Ah, but it was a pity they did not. And so, Amadeo being the anti-social person that he was shied away from the idea of that confrontation. Not that he couldn’t defend himself, but it was just that he’d rather not get into that now. Not when he had just started his “break”.

Instead then of walking back to his dorm, on better judgement, the butler strode on towards the Academy library to pick himself up a fresh stack of novels. An avid reader he was, although he’d barely had any time to get through his books due to the course of his job. Of course now, he had some free time, so what better way was there to spend his free time than visit the place he – somewhat – loved?

Black shoes clacked against the linoleum floor as the butler clad in all black entered the automatic doors of the library, a soft whooshing sound heard as the doors shut close behind him. A quick survey of the place revealed the usual lack of the lady populace, side perhaps from the female librarian hidden behind her usual stack of books that were still to be checked in. Amadeo flashed her a quick smile, waving his hand lightly in a lithe movement that was almost indiscernible. A red blush came over the woman’s cheeks, followed by a high-pitched squeak. He tilted his head, gazing at her confused. Her reaction was unexpected, but not unusual, but as to the reason, he’d rather not delve into it. Shrugging, he stepped into the forest of bookshelves, now in a desperate search for some quality books.

Upon his little “adventure” in the library, Amadeo’s sharp eyes rested their gaze upon something that just did not belong. Amidst the red, purple and blue covers of books was an oddly tinted hairdo, attached to... obviously a person. With curious eyes, Amadeo approached the person from behind, hearing him (it was a him, right? it sounded like it) curse underneath his breath. However, as the butler smoothly made his way around the shelf, he found himself face-to-face instead with a lady. Blinking furiously, he gazed at the human sitting there, an irritated look on... her (?) face. Cocking his head and a rather confused frown smudging his face, he whispered, “Ah... my Lady? It’s really not quite appropriate for someone like yourself to be using that colourful vocabulary.” He paused, staring at the lady’s face, trying to find something that was off, as was hinted by the rather masculine voice he’d heard earlier. “May I ask why you’re down there?”

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tag ; ; cielll ah, I mean night <3
words ; ; 879
muse ; ; pretty good~
music ; ; none
comments ; ; I hope this is good ^.^! NOW LET THE WORLD END!

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[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

SOMETIMES I FIND IT HARD
• to believe there's someone else who could be •
JUST AS MESSED UP AS ME

The voice came out of nowhere. Or maybe it was just that he hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings again. Either way, he was startled. With a jolt that sent his head back into the shelf, he brought his mind back from wandering enough to glare steadily at the man standing in front of him. That really wasn't called for; he brought his hand up to rub at the pain shooting through the back of his head."Hasn't anyone told you it's inconsiderate to sneak up on people, you bastard?" He winced slightly as his hand ran over a particularly sore spot. His day was just getting worse and worse, wasn't it? First, getting lost. Now, he had actually managed to injure himself, something he had managed to avoid doing all day. He scowled crossly at the man. It was unfortunate for him that he had been the one to find Nightingale; things certainly weren't going to be very pleasant, at least not coming out of this boy.

The scowl deepened as he took the time to study the man. Black, black, and more black. Oh, and a hint of red. That was all he saw. He rolled his eyes, a slightly exaggerated movement for the benefit of the person standing in front of him. Of course the butlers wouldn't be colorful; that was a lady's job, from what he had seen. It didn't seem quite fair, especially when Night was quite fond of wearing darker colors. Everything he seemed told to wear as a lady was bright and practically shouted 'look over here!' He averted his gaze back towards the cieling, sighing deeply. Was he really supposed to manage this for three years? From the look on this man's face, he wasn't very convincing, either. He paused for a moment, letting that sink in, before his eyes widened. Two days and he was already failing this test? Not only would his uncle kill him, but he'd never hear the end of it from Theodore, either. He didn't know which was worse.

With some effort, he struggled to his feet, huffing and crossing his arms over his misleadingly flat chest in an indignant manner. "In case you haven't noticed," he hissed, though he had made sure to raise the pitch the slightest amount when he had seen the man, "I don't particularly care if it's bloody appropriate or not." He smiled in a mockingly pretty way before turning his eyes back to the cieling. Dealing with this person didn't sound even remotely entertaining at the moment. In fact, it sounded mildly repulsive. Not to mention this guy seemed a bit suspiscious of him already. No, he should probably try to get away, if only to preserve a little pride. He just didn't know how to do so; asking was out of the question. He had never been one to ask others for something. With a small sigh, he resigned to stay for a bit. Acting for this long would just pose a problem.

Night raised his visible eyebrow at the guy before rolling his eyes once again. "Well, sir," he punctuated, his sarcasm more than obvious, "I don't seem to think what I was doing down there is any of your business. Unless you care to enlighten me, I'll just keep that tidbit of information to myself." He put his hand on his hips, trying to make the movement as 'dainty' as possible. He fixed his blue eye on the man in front of him before narrowing it slightly. What were the odds of this person finding him at on of the worst possible moments? He knew it was incredibly un-feminine to curse or even act like he did. But he had decided, before he had even reached Stella Fiore, that even if he had to look like a different person, he didn't have to act that way. If he got caught, so be it.

"And am I supposed to assume you run into every lady alone in a remote part of the library, or do you have a remotely better reason for being here yourself, Monsieur Behemoth?" He leaned his head to the side slightly, the air of innocence completely contradicting his nickname for the man. It wasn't as though he had anything against those who were fortunate enough to be tall, but this person was gigantic. Compared to Nightingale, at least. Which wasn't saying much; the boy wasn't even five feet tall when he was forced to wear heels, so his natural height wasn't very impressive. It had always been one of his annoyances, especially when he just barely reached this guy's chest. If he wasn't careful, he'd grow a kink in his neck just from looking at him while talking to him. As for the French, he had been taught three languages while being tutored, and that was the only one he had retained, though he often butchered the poor language. And didn't it just fit his lady status?

TAGGED ! Amadeo
WORDS ! 833 (you win >.>)
LYRICS ! sometimes by skillet
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! *too busy plotting the end of the world to put anything here*

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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Uncertainty often came abound when one discovered something completely unfamiliar to them. It was a natural reaction to doubt something or someone when they went against what you knew, or at least what you thought you knew. This was the natural human reaction, to reject those which did not suit their versions of reality. It was a naive reaction, humans minds being highly susceptible to ignorance and the like. They often closed off their minds so eagerly, just to embrace that which they called their sanity. A little thing that opposed their philosophical views, and they were sent spiralling into that depressing corner filled with their own disregard for all that was true in the world, no matter how much they would vehemently deny it. That was greatest flaw with humanity, but somehow, some others were able to get past that invisible barrier and discover the impossible, the improbable. Those that were brave enough to venture into these shaky depths were what were later crowned as famous inventors, discoverers, and even geniuses. Would one think that Albert Einstein was a genius had it not been for his prowess for overcoming the obstacle of this so-called “reality”? No, of course not. Sadly, there were only too few people who were able to do this; all minds hypnotized subconsciously into uniformity. Thankfully for him, the butler had cycled himself out of this endless and repetitive sequence.

This analogy then was the basis of the Amadeo’s rather slight discomfort as he studied the “lady’s” rather odd position slumped by the base of the book of shelves, a look of annoyance obvious on her face. The reason for this discomfort was due to his keen eyes betraying what the person was saying otherwise. It was off... just what was off exactly eluded him completely. Perhaps if he spent more time with this lady, the secret would no doubt be “let out of the bag”, as that saying went. However, before he could get another word in, the lady had spoken, jumping up slightly as his presence startled her. With a quiet, inward laugh, red eyes crinkled as he watched her dainty little head bump against the shelf, resulting in a rather painful experience for the latter. However, it didn’t seem to do much for her personality (as was easily apparent), her words coming out with force comparing to that of the other albino-haired female he’d met just a few days back. Meeting the scowl on the lady’s face with his own little smile, he replied in a quiet voice, “Such foul language, my lady.” He chuckled. “And yes, I suppose it is. However please know that that was not my intention. Should it be my fault that I feel rather drawn to ladies in... tight corners?

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With his own crimson eyes studying the figure now more closely, Amadeo noted the girl’s features. A rather boyish face, if he could say that, but not in an insulting way, of course. His eyes were a somewhat teal colour, although the other seemed to be hidden underneath her locks of hair. These eyes were complimented by the wonderfully tinted blue dress she wore, filled with frilly ribbons that shook with every single little movement. It added a dainty look to her overall figure, but something about her face was rather off. Again, he could not point this out exactly, but it would take only a little time and some patience, both of which he had a lot of, perhaps even too much.

“Of course that is your business entirely, my Lady.[/color]” He paused, the smile on his face now larger as he noted her obvious discomfort and his attempt at standing straight up. It reminded him again of the usual stereotypical spoiled brat, attempting to look stronger and sturdier than they actually were. From her body language, it was apparent that she was an independent individual – or at least, that was the mask she had put on, probably either for others’ sake, or for her own. He did not know which, but it was interesting nevertheless. He chuckled at her heavy sarcasm, the tone not fazing him one bit. “I’ve been getting that a lot lately. I do apologize.[/color]”

Amadeo was no doubt intrigued by this female now, due to the fact that she didn’t seem as docile as all the others here. Much like the previous female he’d met at the library by chance, they shared that strong-willed, heavily sarcastic and foul-mouthed personality. Now that he thought about it, it was quite ironic that he’d me similar-minded people in the exact same place. Both were his types, the types who were perfect for investigation with his scientific-like mind. His favourite meals, his favourite subjects, and his perfect toys.

Briefly once more pausing, his keen eyes watched the lady as a whole. No, he’d never seen her here before, and seeing as how he was familiar with all the older and more senior girls, he could only place her in the “first year” category. With the most welcoming smile he could muster, he bowed, a right gloved hand crossing against his chest and landing by his heart. “Ah, but my intentions are purely for my reasons. I came here to rent a book or two, and chanced upon you here, my Lady. May I ask for your name?[/color]” An amused smile played on his lips. Now the game would start.[/color]
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tag ; ; cielll ah, I mean night <3
words ; ; 903
muse ; ; pretty good~
music ; ; none
comments ; ; Let the torture begin >D

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[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

SOMETIMES I FIND IT HARD
• to believe there's someone else who could be •
JUST AS MESSED UP AS ME

Nightingale shook his head slowly, a small frown gracing his features. "Who really has the right to decide whether or not such language is to be considered foul?" He waved a hand nonchalantly before placing it once again on his hip, the delicate curve there more pronounced by the movement. It wasn't as though cursing were a necessity of his, but it was particularly useful in venting anger. He really had never understood why the language was considered inappropriate, anyways, so there wasn't anything to stop his from using it. He leaned his head to the side, his red and blue eyes widening slightly in faux innocence. "You can go find another lady to go be drawn to, as far as I'm concerned. Preferrably in one of the tightest corners of hell." Night smiled pleasantly, which accompanied by the sickly-sweet tone of his voice, contradicted the words themselves. He wasn't quite sure what being 'drawn to' something meant, but either way, he just wanted this man away from him.

Night stood his ground under the man's gaze, his own red and blue eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. He may be a smooth talker, but he couldn't trust him. Not an ounce. The man's own curiousity was obvious to Night, and though he should have been worried about it, all it did was irk him. It wasn't as though he were an open book, his secrets available for all to see. Yet he supposed that was the nature of human-kind, that need to know things even if that person wasn't involved in it themselves. That didn't mean he was going to share the information the man was looking for, not easily at least. Information had never been an easy thing to pry out of the boy, whether it be as simple as why he's upset or as intricate as his life story. No one knew how he had been rendered half blind, why one of his eyes was a blood red instead of the other's blue, or what he was thinking. No one except Nightingale, that is.

Night crossed his arms over his chest, giving the butler's smile a rather deadpanned expression. He wasn't sure why, but it felt a tad more eerie on this man than it would on most people. His words made him roll his eyes though. "You've been intruding on the ladies enough to hear protests often?" He shook his head slowly, the long strands of blue shaking slightly. A look of faux disappointment crossed over his face. "Are you completely sure that you are up to the task of a butler?" Smirking slightly, the facade dropped as quickly as it had appeared, Night's left eye wandered from the man in front of him to glance around the aisle. It was quite spacious, enough so that he could easily walk past the man without coming into any form of contact, as long as he tread carefully. It wasn't as though he planned on needing an escape route, either, but it was always nice to know where they were. Looking for them was probably a habit from his time on the run.

Night's gaze drifted to the floor as his lips slipped slightly down. His arms slipped from his chest to wrapping around his midsection in a slightly protective way. The movement was subtle enough that he hoped it wouldn't be noticed. Memories of his time on the run weren't the best ones in his life, as was to be expected. He was half blind, discolored in one eye, and had a rope-like scar on his stomach due to that certain portion of his life. With a small sigh, he turned away from the butler in front of him to look at the books on the shelf, getting the thoughts to shake out of his head. It wasn't the time or place, and truthfully, he'd rather forget all about it. It was rather difficult when he had to keep one eye hidden all the time, though; the vivid color of the red seemed to startle most people.

He skimmed his fingers over the leather of the books, and then frowned as he realized how many were missing. Wasn't this supposed to be a remotely wealthy school? Maybe they just didn't consider it to be something important. The thought caused him to shake his head again; books were something that Night actually felt an attatchment to. When you're trapped in a house by yourself, with no place else to go, it was to be expected that he loved to read and write. Unfortunately, his journal was hidden and couldn't be written in until he was sure he was alone, which was what he had been doing in the library in the first place. He glanced over his shoulder at the man, a slender eyebrow raising in slight surprise. "You may ask for it, but I don't figure you are going to get it." He smirked slightly. "And isn't one supposed to give their own name before asking for another's, especially from a Lady?" Maybe it wasn't good for him to use his lie in such an obvious way, but he didn't mind. He just said what he wanted; he was just himself.

TAGGED ! Amadeo
WORDS ! 873 (I'm always thirty short...)
LYRICS ! sometimes by skillet
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! Hmmm... I feel like I'm getting more used to him now~

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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“That much is true,” he replied, speaking of the reference to sanctioned rights and who had such authority to be able to tame it. She had a point, truly, for if was true that if the rights of people were written down and regulated, were it also not true then, that they were also dictated? If it was by human hands, then would it not be as free as everyone supposedly thought it was? How opposed was that then to the image of freedom it was supposedly to give? They were just ways for the so-called “higher-ups” to provide an illusion of freedom for the people, while secretly suppressing some for their own advantage. Contradicting, as was usual. That was how the human mind worked, after all. However, the butler argued greatly that this was perhaps not what the young female was talking about, and was perhaps talking about it in a manner on a shallower level. Ah, but he could not help and overthink things; that was just the way his mind worked. Oftentimes it spelled disaster, as someone would catch him staring off into debating some inner conflict, but at others, it provided him with some excellent insight that most others could not even dream of achieving. But really, it was just annoying most of the time, how his mind launched into an inner argument without him even really meaning to in the first place. “And the answer to that issue would be... nobody.

[/color]” He smiled, tilting his head slightly. Would that answer appease her? “There should be no limitations, now should there be, madam? I do see your point, and I would stay faithfully at that side, until of course humans start running rampant doing whatever they please. Do you not think this is a valid reason to be limited?[/color]” Ah, there he went again, spouting off some philosophical nonsense. He awaited for further retribution from the lady, expecting her to throw some sort of fit as most of them here did once you used a big word or two in mid-conversation.

Was it fate, or was it just mere circumstances that had brought him yet to another lady in one of his library excursions? Was it some sort of sick joke the gods were playing on him to try and shake him? No, the latter could not be true, as one, he did not believe in gods, and two, it would take much more than a short-tempered lady to faze him. This was, after all, one of the things he’d had to train for in Butler School. Aside from the amazing cooking skills and brisk cleaning management, the one thing that largely separated his class from those lower than him was personality. Those gruelling years of having to endure screaming, crying, tantrums, and so many other things he would rather not relive. But he found it to be an intriguing turn of events that led him to another interesting girl one after the other. Was it his good karma finally catching up to him? He chuckled; this was how he’d rather see it. A foul-mouthed young girl? A good thing. Uplifted eyes closed, and coupled with the smile on his face, it was his version of perfect innocence. Again with the hell comment, he could almost laugh at the fact. “Ah, but I’ve come so far. Besides, I’m quite certain hell won’t provide me with as intriguing and strong-headed females such as yourself.[/color]” He spoke casually, as though being sent off once more to hell didn’t bother him. But it didn’t, because he’d already experienced his own personal hell, that life before Butler Academy he would not relive. Or maybe, it did. Just a little, that nudging feeling in the very deepest recesses of his brain.

“Of course I have[/color],” Amadeo replied, with neither hint nor trace of sarcasm or wavering in his tone. “My job entails otherwise. I, however, cannot be held accountable for the lady’s mood at said time. I’d rather they were called “natural reaction” than protests, really.[/color]” He paused, his face now all seriousness as it contradicted the look of obviously faked disappointment on the other’s. “Yes, I am, my Lady.[/color]” As he said these words, his eyes burned with fervour for what he was saying; they even looked to be literal flames behind those glass red irises, one that could quite easily scare someone who had not been expecting it. But after a few milliseconds, the fire disintegrated, leaving nothing more than the dull shine of his eyes. “But of course, that matter is entirely up to your opinion. If enough have complained against me, then I will surely leave this field. However, since that is not the case...[/color]” An almost indiscernible grin marked his face. If he had completed the sentence, it would go “... I’ve not garnered enough complaints because these hormone-filled females could be so easily influenced.” That, and the fact that he did his job more competently than the other ingrates here.

It was a slight movement, but his focused eyes caught it. Amadeo watched as thin arms wrapped themselves around the female’s waist. It looked to be an embrace of oneself almost, a symbol of a pitying self-defence against forces one individual could not control. An eyebrow rose in response, but nothing more. Now was not the time to ask, lest she throw a fit, not because it was something personal. Tactfulness had never been his forte, after all. The female’s attention was then diverted to the books, but he had a feeling that this conversation was far from over. If he had to choose between the albino female and this one, he’d choose this one, mostly due to the fact that she was more prone to be engaged in conversation than the other had been. Although sarcastically, she at least responded to all his questions and “well-to-do” comments. “How knowledgeable you are.[/color]” He bowed. “My name is Amadeo Robespierre, my lady. Please do forgive my rudeness.[/color] A chuckle escaped his lips, and one slender finger reached up to twirl a stray of lock of black hair for a second – an action he only ever revealed if someone had totally captivated him. “That’s fine and well, my lady. You have no obligation to tell me. Now...[/color]” Quickly pushing in two books at the shelf higher than the female that were about to fall off, he spoke, “Is there anything I can help you with, or do you retreat to libraries just to have your lapses of breakdown?[/color]” The voice that coloured the sentence was innocence and light teasing. There was something to be said for ladies and libraries, after all.[/color]
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tag ; ; cielll ah, I mean night <3
words ; ;1114
muse ; ; ...
music ; ; none
comments ; ; ok, maybe I overdid it a teeny tiny bit <.<... Note, the line "Uplifted eyes closed, and coupled with the smile on his face, it was his version of perfect innocence", look my icon to see what it looks like XD

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[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

SOMETIMES I FIND IT HARD
• to believe there's someone else who could be •
JUST AS MESSED UP AS ME

Of course it was true; Nightingale wasn't one to speak lies. But, either way, he was slightly startled. The majority of people he had spoken to, though the number wasn't very large, not many would admit that the things they knew weren't true. It was something Night had never understood, this absolute feeling of whether something was true or not. Everything in the world that had been decided had, originally, had to have been decided by humans. History proved that it was natural for people to not want to change their opinion, or what they believed to be the hands-down truth. That was why there were so many wars on such trivial things; neither side was willing to back down and admit they were wrong. He shrugged his shoulders simply. "Do you not already think that humans run rampant? Even with restrictions put into place, there are always those who do as they please." His fingers paused on the edge of a history book before they continued skimming. "More often than not, it's the people who put those restrictions in place to begin with that disregard them." He frowned slightly at the history book he had paused over before; power brought greed, and greed brought despair. It was a never-ending cycle, and one of the main reasons he never wanted to inherit his family fortune.

Some people found it a shock that Nightingale was the heir to his family's legacy. The Dymonde's were relatively well known throughout England, though not as much here in Italy. It was easily understandable why, since Night's father had dealt primarily as an ambassador for peace. No one had been even remotely surprised when he had been assassinated; everyone just assumed it was a rebel who wanted to start a war, which didn't happen. Yet, the entire Dymonde estate had been shocked. They all knew how many groups the man had negotiated with, how many uprisings he had prevented just by knowing how to associate with others. Not only was his son unsociable compared to him, he was simply a recluse. It had been even more shocking to find out his uncle was responsible for everything.

Yet, even if his father did die for it, as far as Nightingale was concerned, as soon as he turned eighteen the inheritance would go to people who needed it. Maybe some orphanages and other such groups, anyone he felt he could relate to. Anything left over would go to Theodore; it was the least Night could give the annoying man for raising him. He rolled his eyes at the man's, Amadeo's, words. "You speak of people as if they're objects, even as though you're excluded from the population as a human. I wonder why." He paused in his skimming to send a slightly curious look over his shoulder at the man before shrugging and turning back. "Also, I suggest you hold your tongue. Compliments will get you nowhere and only succeed in making you sound like an imbecile, which I'm likely to believe." Opinions first formed weren't a thing Night believed were easy to change, and ever since the man had stumbled upon him, he hadn't quite had his mind changed.

"From what I have heard since arriving, the butler's job is to please the lady, correct? If they receive 'natural reactions' like the ones you have mentioned, doesn't that imply that they have done their job incorrectly?" His tone switched to one that was seemingly innocent, though the patronizing hint to it was easily heard. He seemed unfazed by Amadeo's sudden sincerity, listening intently to his words instead. The butler seemed much more passionate about his job then he let on, especially when Night had hinted at doubting he was a good man for it. Well, that was certainly intriguing. "I'm surprised there haven't been, quite frankly. You seem to be enough to cause most ladies nightmares for a few ghoulishly long weeks." He shrugged lightly, a smirk sneaking its way onto his features. It wasn't as though Night was going to complain about the butler; he just wished the man would go be pesky somewhere else. Amadeo wasn't truly that frightening, but he was sure there were at least a few other females who had to be annoyed by his presence. The fact that Nightingale was a male had nothing to do with it; charm couldn't have such drastically different effects on each gender, could it?

He stopped his fingers' skimming on a book that only vaguely captured his interest, most of his attention focused on the conversation at hand. It was slightly unusual for Night; most of the time, he just stayed silent when people spoke to him. Talking to others wasn't a strong point in his person, nor was understanding them. Quite often, when he asked a question that seemed rude, it was actually because he wanted to know. Not a lot of people understood that. He pulled the book off the shelf and glanced at its cover, swirled writing over a dark background, before flipping through its pages, his eyes scanning them as they went. "Such a thing doesn't warrant being called knowledge. It's more along the lines of common sense, something you should attempt to obtain." He flicked through more of the pages, not bothering to glance up at the butler. "As for my name, it is Nightingale. Nightingale Dymonde. It's not as though I don't have a reason to keep it from you."

Night glanced up as he spotted movement above his head, scowling as he saw it was Amadeo's arm reaching over him. That was just an insult to his height. He snapped the book closed, though careful not to damage it, and slipped it back into its rightful place for crossing his arms over his chest and turning back to the man, the scowl on his face deepening at the words about breakdowns. "As I recall, I told you earlier to go to hell, Mr. Robespierre. It would be helping me greatly, as it would be taking an ignorant nuisance out of my life. So why haven't you done so?" Night watched the man with narrowed eyes, his nerves on edge. Maybe he really should just get out of the library; this man was much too good at reading people for him to do this much longer.

TAGGED ! Sebaaaaa-amadeo ^^
WORDS ! 1,058 (so close x__x)
LYRICS ! sometimes by skillet
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! At least he makes my arguments make sense :3 And he's such a softie at heart~ (

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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Amazing. Just amazing. She was just a box full of surprises, wasn’t she? Just when he thought he’d had her figured out, she came and pulled a stunt like this. Truly amazing; there was just no other word for it, except maybe impressive. During the course of their conversation, Amadeo had immediately formulated predictions in his head as to how he thought she would react. But almost every single time she’d proven him wrong, her replies coming with such fierceness and sarcasm and without wavering that it led him to wonder if there really existed a lady like this. Ah, what was he thinking? Of course one as such existed! There was she in flesh and blood in front of him; something even he could lie to himself to see. But as far as “seeing” things went, he couldn’t shake that suspicious feeling he’d had ever since he first laid eyes on her. Rather, the feeling he’d had ever since he’d heard “her” cursing in an unladylike fashion. Again, that feeling rose to new heights when he assessed the situation. After all, he had rarely ever been wrong when it came to first impressions and reading people, especially pertaining to how a typical lady acted (he’d been around them long enough to be able to say he’d basically figured them out, hadn’t he?). Despite underlying personality differences, there was always something common to all of them, to which this one just didn’t quite fit the bill. Just why did he feel that this one was special, despite the obvious lack of evidence that supported this claim? But thinking on it, it was just exactly this lack of evidence that he felt compelled to continue and pursue the conversation, all the while gathering evidence inconspicuously. It was a game he’d started and would not quit until it was all done and won.

She was a cunning one too, Amadeo noted. A thinker to be sure, aware of the more realistic issues in the world as opposed to what color of nail polish would go better with which dress. Yes, he’d been subject to that as he reminisced bitterly. For hours, he’d had to listen to a lady talk to herself and debating while he stood there holding a full-length mirror without being able to get a word in, although she was supposedly asking for his opinion. Really now, that wasn’t part of his job description, was it? Although he was a fashionable man with an eye on what was out and what wasn’t, doing that was just a pointless waste of time in his opinion. However, this one in front of him seemed like she couldn’t care less about such frivolities, to which he was thankful. “Very observant, m’lady. Indeed they do, but do you not think that that is a natural reaction? Humans have always sought freedom, and with restrictions upon them, would that, not then, make them feel more compelled to fight against these hidden chains? I believe that is why they act as they do.” A smile played in his crimson eyes as he caught the lady’s curious look accompanying her strange but plausible question. Ah, so he’d done it again, hadn’t he? He had this weird habit of talking about humans like an alien outsider looking in, like a scientist to his lab rats. Sometimes he didn’t notice, but other times (like now, for instance) he would do it on purpose. Finally, someone had caught it; he almost wanted to congratulate her. Almost. “Again, I’m impressed by your observation skills. But allow me to answer your query with one of my own. If humans have such negative stereotypical traits like greed and power, would it still be as appealing to be considered one of them? But of course being one and denying to be one are completely different things, but there’s something to be said about doing the latter anyway.

[/color]” A light-hearted laugh came right after. He was enjoying this way too much.

“I disagree, my Lady, if you forgive me[/color]”, Amadeo replied with a smirk. “Compliments take you far and beyond, although mere words don’t quite seem to be enough for you, do they?[/color]” He paused, letting the question sink in. “You’re a special one, aren’t you?[/color]” When the ladies were usually busy throwing their fits and such, one simple compliment could make them calm down completely, like a dog being given a treat just to silence them. Never had one been deflected, what with either extremely cocky ladies or low-esteemed ones dominating the school. It made them a little too easy to manipulate, in his opinion. But in this case, he could still use it to his advantage, if only to annoy her.

Now it was true that he held his job with extremely high regard, and so the other’s comment had completely thrown him off. Now he felt insulted. Although it was true that he would repetitively complain or keep negative comments about it to himself, there was still no doubt that he enjoyed it meticulously. Without it, he would be completely naked, as it was what made up most – if not all – of his life now. Such dying passion about something would no doubt be warranted a reaction if it was to be insulted, as was apparent in the if-only-for-a-second look in his eyes and tone of his voice. This was his life, and it was not meant to be so callously ridiculed, especially by someone as naive (despite being insightful) as this one. But how glad he was that she did not further elaborate on his reaction. Although it was ignored, he was sure that she wouldn’t forget about this. At least the conversation was back to its light-hearted track... if one could call it that.

“Correct[/color]”, he said, drumming his fingers against a book. He smirked at the innocent tone she was taking – a complete contrast to her words. “And I suppose you are right. Time, however, is the simple answer.[/color]” He said nothing more; Amadeo’s way of a cryptic clue. He was getting at the fact that the more time he was butler to a lady, the more she would be pleased and eventually would forget about their meeting, no matter the strange circumstances. “Plus, my presence before you shows I have done my job, no?[/color]” He laughed at her comment about nightmares. Knowing the slightly obsessive girls around him like he knew he did, the only nightmares they’d ever have would be if he wasn’t in them. “Then I suppose you’ll be having one of me tonight, m’lady?[/color]” A strange, almost psychotic smile passed his face for but a second before he spoke his next ominous words. “Don’t scream[/color]”, was all he said, his eyes boring into the female’s with triumph, as though he’d figured out something about her, as though he’d just solved her like he did a puzzle. In truth, it was just a go, but wouldn’t it be interesting if he got a reaction?

A mental note was made of the female’s name. Wonderful. Amadeo didn’t think she’d so easily give her name up, but just as well. A chuckle escaped his lips at the other’s yet again sarcastic comment. None of her comments had fazed him in the least (albeit job-related) and he wondered if she’d notice that. “But it’s too bad that most people don’t see it that way. Of course, you seem to be quite knowledgeable...[/color]” He pursed his lips, eyes studying the female with scrutiny, narrowing as they did so. It went on for a full second, before he chuckled, breaking the tension. He grabbed a book directly above her head and held it in a way in which she could see the title in bold letters: True Lies. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d wisely evaded his question. A sly smile plyed on his lips. “You know, this book does a spectacular job discussing deception and humans’ attempts at them. They say that when someone directly avoids a question, it may mean the party in question hiding something...[/color]” His eyes widened with innocence as they scanned the books. The unfathomable silence made the moment even more perfect.[/color]
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tag ; ; cielll ah, I mean night <3
words ; ;1367
muse ; ; >_>
music ; ; none
comments ; ; I think I overdid my dang post again. -_- I even wrote it out by hand thinking that if I made it too long I would punish myself by getting a hand cramp. But apparently, even pain can't stop me <_<... Hopefully anyways this is enough for him to storm out. xD

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[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

SOMETIMES I FIND IT HARD
• to believe there's someone else who could be •
JUST AS MESSED UP AS ME

Nightingale was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable, yet he wasn't sure why. It just felt as though he were a pawn in this game, not the king. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly used to. He leaned back against the shelf, a small frown accompanying the move. Despite all his remarks and comebacks, it didn't feel as though he were pushing this person away from him; if anything, it felt as though he were drawing him in closer. With every word he spoke, he was sure Amadeo became more curious. Having one who thirsted for answers around him was not a safe thing for Night, especially when they were as persistent as this butler. Yet he couldn't be sure about anything; maybe the man was this curious about everyone, as suspicious towards them. But not everyone could consider simple curiosity as life threatening as Night did, not when they didn't hold a secret such as his own. He was sure that, if someone were to discover the truth and unveil him for what he really was, he'd be out of Stella Fiore. If that were to happen, it would be as good as saying Nightingale were dead.

He averted his eyes from the man's, keeping the visible blue fixed on the shelf behind him. If eyes truly were the looking glass to one's soul, that wasn't something he needed Amadeo seeing, even if it were only a portion. Keeping eye contact may have been an important part of maintaining even a remote sense of presence, but he never had been one for taking chances. Or, when he had, they hadn't usually put himself at risk. Excitement was a foreign concept to Night, excluding the amount of time he spent running from home. Yet, he extremely doubted anyone would come at him with a fierce amount of kiling intent while he was at Stella Fiore. At least, he rather hoped not. "These chains aren't as hidden as you would think. They bind a person to their ideals, not to those of a higher power. If they believe that it's possible for one to hold such a power over their heads, then it becomes easier for one to take advantage of that. In reality, if one doesn't hold onto their ideals as tightly as a lifeline, then they're already free. Their minds can bend the way they want them to, not the way someone else suggests they be molded." Night shrugged simply, as though the concept were as easy as turning the page in a book. He truly did think that, if people were to just change the way they thought, then power wouldn't hold them down anymore. Everyone would just be equal.

Night simply rolled his eyes, shrugging off the comment of his observational skills. Such a thing was necessary, especially because he only could use half of his vision. "Don't simply stereotype humans. There's not a things on this planet, after all, that doesn't contain negative traits. Every soul contains some darkness, as I'm sure the same is true for you, Mr. Robespierre." He shifted his gaze back to the man's red eyes, his own holding no expression in it. Maybe it was recklessness that had brought him to hold his ground again; either way, he was sure it wasn't safe. Yet he couldn't bring himself to look away. It would almost be like admitting losing a competition he wasn't aware he had entered, and Nightingale wasn't one who liked to lose. The game of life could be put on pause while he entered a smaller game, one that might be more intriguing. He knew it was actually impossible to pause life, but sometimes it felt so ridiculously trivial that he needed a distraction, just like anyone else. Except, unlike an actual lady, his distractions revolved more around actually using his brain instead of being a bubble-head with no care in the world.

Night scowled slightly, placing his hands on his hips in obvious defiance. "The power of a spoken word can only go so far. The power of a carefully considered word can go much farther. Words can be enough for me, as you so put it, but not if they're thrown around so carelessly." There were many people in the world who underestimated the impact a word could have on the state of another's being. The mind was so easily influenced by the words spoken that, with the right choice in them, someone could easily control them. Night paused for a moment, considering the words, before his eye narrowed at Amadeo. "Not special, dear butler, never special. Assuming that someone is special is just the same as assuming that no one is. Either way, I am not special, I'm simply not influenced by empty words." It didn't really matter how exquisite or complimenting the words were; they all were fake, after all. People, more often than not, never meant what they said. Words were abused quite frequently, and what means it was for was usually completely absurd. So, he had learned to ignore it all, and try and find the truthful meaning behind the words.

Nightingale raised an eyebrow at the butler's cryptic answer, but otherwise didn't say anything in response. Time? It was such a fickle thing, just one other element in the world decided by humans. In fact, he highly doubted there was anything that hadn't been originally influenced by thoughts of those who considered themselves geniuses. He shook his head slowly, a small, hardly noticeable disapproving sound escaping past his guard. "Oh please. You may have done your job, but I'm certainly positive that a large portion of what you did included batting your eyes at the ladies until they turn into puddy in your hands." Night pushed himself away from the shelf carefully before moving closer to the man. He glared icily at him, the effect dampened slightly by his height once again, but his voice still came out in a disapproving hiss. "Don't think your tricks will work on me, Mr. Robespierre. As far as I'm concerned, you're a filthy, dim-witted, terrible excuse for a butler. If I scream tonight, it will be because I'll have remembered this bland experience and be wishing I could replace it with something much more worth my time." He stepped back a small step, as though disgusted by the mere thought of sharing space with Amadeo.

Night watched the man warily, once again keeping his mouth shut at his words. Being knowledgable wasn't necessarily a good thing; often times, it ended in a drastic way. Yet the butler was watching him with that same scrutinizing gaze that made him so nervous. It always felt as though he had revealed something he shouldn't have. He scowled slightly as the man, once again, reached right over him to grab a book. The expression disappeared in a second, only to be replaced with wide-eyed horror at the name of the book. So he had figured out that Nightingale was hiding something. With any luck, he hadn't figured out what; at least, not yet. He swallowed slowly, his hands gripping into fists at his sides, before responding. "Everyone deceives others about one thing or another. No one is completely secretless." He kept his expression blank, void of emotion, though he was slightly proud that his voice managed to reflect the monotone too. "Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Robespierre, I must be going. Enjoy finding another lady in hell to torment. And with those words, Nightingale, tense with pent up frustration, briskly walked out of the library, his shoulder brushing against the man's in his hurry to leave.

TAGGED ! Sebamadeo
WORDS ! 1,280
LYRICS ! sometimes by skillet
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! And the beginning has ended :3

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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There were so many words left to be said, so many stuck unuttered in his mouth, so many snide comments yet to hurt and penetrate the soul, so many more observations that could have been made known but weren’t. Indeed, the whole conversation between the two parties was far from over. Being a curious soul that he was, his mind that functioned much like a scientist’s own that would refuse to yield to insignificant results and more questions. After all, the whole point of performing an experiment was to ensure that results were accomplished, whether they were ones of interest or not was not a moot point. The whole process in itself was important, true enough, but the bottom line was that there were results. If there weren’t any, it easily meant two things: that the experiment’s design was completely flawed and lacked deeper insight, or the scientist hadn’t been proficient enough in carrying out the procedure. Since he was someone who went through things smoothly without a hitch or flaw, thus preventing him from repeating the heinous task more than once (except, of course, unless he actually wanted to), then there was really no other option than the former. How to improve on it, however, was the problem now, and the female here wasn’t exactly giving him too much time. He had enough to work with, but time-wise, it wasn’t nearly as sufficient to give him time to think. Even someone like him had limits, and a space of five minutes wasn’t enough. It didn’t help either, how she seemed to blatantly ignore him with scathing and scowling looks, and from the looks of things, itched to be anywhere else but right next to him, apparently, despite the large space in this library.

To Amadeo, life was a fleeting thing, something so easily influenced by external circumstances, with those that were actually in it having little to no control of it. It could be very easily compared the Greek aspect of a tragedy, that of which their plays were consistently based around. It was very often divided into three “major” parts known as the Theban cycle: the rise, fall, and redemption. In these Greek plays, fate was also a centralized topic. It revolved around the fact that in them, there was always one main character that would be known as the tragic hero, who had his own tragic flaw that would immediately lead to his own downfall. At first, the hero would be prosperous, as was signified by the “rise”, but due to his tragic flaw, but he would bring about his own “fall”, due to both fate (circumstances outside his control) combined with his own tragic flaw, and finally, he would see his redemption later when he realized this flaw, admitted to it, and was able to redeem themselves which would contribute to his “rise”. Now what did this have to do with life, one might ask? Everything. The tragic hero was everyone on the face of this earth, due to the fact that there was no single person that was perfect, and although the effects of their flaws weren’t as apparent as the ones shown in tragedies like in Oedipus Rex, little screw-ups would always be present. That aside, life was controlled by an upper power one could liken to “fate”, although some would attribute it to a god. It didn’t matter which one believed in. The bottom line was that these downfalls and unexpected happenings were a part of the fleeting cycle of life. It moved on regardless of what happened to one person – the circle of life, as one could blatantly put it. Because of this, he saw no reason to dwell in the past, because really, what good would that do him? It was true that the past did indeed have some lingering effects on him, but he didn’t sit around and mope. That was one thing humans needed to learn: to move on. Suck it up and rise. There was no sense in backtracking and trying to accomplish something that was already done.

Speaking of humans, Amadeo’s way of thinking and describing them would not easily change, despite what the lady said. It was important to note that unlike life, they were more predictable. Power. Greed. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. Only few of the things that drew men and baited them, only to eventually cause them their untimely demise. Was it his fault, then, that he so strongly rejected his fate of being human? Denying it, like he had mentioned before, was different than that actually happening. And as the lady had said, all humans had dark happenings and pasts that kept them alive and striving to live on. If he had not been human in the first place, if he had somehow existed beyond these mortal walls and chains of destiny, then he would have never been subject to that ill past, and he would never have become what he was now. Ah, that statement was bittersweet. If only life weren’t so complicated...

Brought back from his reverie to the present by the lady’s voice, Amadeo had simply uttered simple words that would hint that he was on to her facade, whatever it was. The details, he did not know of, but the important thing was that he let her know he was on to something, and although it was just a guess, her next reaction most obviously confirmed the suspicion. Coupled with the split horrified look on her face and her vicious “last words”, Nightingale had left the library in a huff, obviously wound up about something. These three things were enough for him to pursue her now, one whose mind worked on about the same wavelength as his did, not the usual bubble headedness of most of the ladies here. Smirking at the tight fists at her sides, he could deduce that he had struck a nerve, which was about the whole point of this exercise. Her words hung in the air as she left, for he did not have time to speak before she so elegantly made her way out of the room. The words lingered, but they were not to stay there without being honoured with a reply. Bowing his head as he faced the lady’s back, eyes closed but with a smile playing on them, he muttered in a low voice that only he himself was sure to hear. “We are never deceived; we deceive ourselves.” The words rang clear and true. For humans are the root of all evil, not money, because it would not exist without the life of humans, after all. Humans were the starting points of everything good and bad, and deception was no exception to this. He knew for a fact that Nightingale wasn’t. Sadly, he wasn’t, either.

What Happens Next?....

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tag ; ; cielll ah, I mean night <3
words ; ;1135
muse ; ; alright, just finishing this up
music ; ; none
comments ; ; for those still looking to read the continuation of the thread, look above at the end of post

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