dressed in poetry (eion)

[MONET ANAIS GANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] . the imagery doesn't fit. RLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLIN Basked in the sinking rays of the sun the blond could see her sullen stare perfectly reflected back in the gently rippling water of the Black Lake. It was one of those days that filed under the broad category of 'anyone looks at me in the wrong way I will not hesitate to hex their ass off.' Not that Monet was particularly gifted in the subject of hex casting, actually she was far from such. However, in times where she was feeling testy enough anything could be made possible with a little imagination. Classes had yet to begin yet but she had returned to the castle, feeling like an alien more than ever in her own mansion after she had spent a few days with Eion. He had smeared his presence all over the walls of the house to make it like he had infiltrated even the the place that Monet held as sacred. Already he had churned her down to nothing more than a strumpet, his company was not needed any longer than needed. His mum was convinced their brief vacation had gone swimmingly, joy delivered her by the tongue of her very own son. Sickening, it was the exact word that she could use to describe every aspect of the guy who was soon to be her husband. She had told Eion she would personally ask to call of the marriage, which she had, but to Eion's dismay his mom had been picking out a dress for Monet and had joyfully denied her pleas. Holy matrimony was calling out to the young couple in a clear, expectant tune. Thoughts of Eion and the marriage plagued Monet even when she begged her mind to remain blank for even the tiniest increment of time.The sleeves of her skimpy jumper were pulled down over her hands, whose knuckles had begun to show a tint of blue. Being the end of December the weather was still stifling cold, promising that anyone venturing out on the grounds would need proper defense again old Jack Frost and his frigid ways. As a way of escape Monet had thrown on random things after dinner had been through to go and brave her way against the cold. It hadn't came as a logical thought for her to grab the fur coat that had been a gift from Aderyn and the Slater family. She sought nothing more than a bit of peace in the time of day that was supposed to be the most calming. Calamity had been Monet's best mate for the past few weeks, with altercations, drinking binges, and attempts to try and duel with her fiance. This particular day had been uneventful but Monet could not shake off the irritation that thickly clouded over her mind. The wedges of her heels dug in the ground and her bum was plopped carelessly on the shore. With her chin rested on her knees she stared at her reflection, desperately wishing she could recognize the girl looking back at her. Abruptly she reached out for a hefty rock, winding her arm back to launch the stone at her reflection with a weighted splash. Destroyed, she was destroyed. tagged,

[/size] vika words,[/size] 531 outfit,[/size] here notes,[/size] boring is boring[/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[vika6]

tell me this is all just a contest,

the one who wins will be the one who hits the hardest

The Black Lake was inspiring. That was his main reason for bothering to go out in this weather. Eion disliked anything that didn’t cooperate with him, therefore, he disliked the chilly cold that took a hold of everything in winter. The sharp, menthol wind forced the young man to adjust his clothes to it and robbed him of a tiny particle of his freedom, which was enough to annoy him. Still, he’d pulled on his black leather jacket – the ultimate sign of his badassery, if he dared say so himself – rolled up the collar of his black turtle neck and, praying that his jeans would keep his precious parts from freezing, he went out. In a whim, he’d snatched along his simplest camera: a polaroid, which was only charmed enough to capture three to five seconds of a moving object. It wasn’t fancy or high-quality, but it worked fast and was light to carry. That was good enough for him – he wasn’t as picky as people ought him to be.

His mood was auto-lifting itself as he walked toward the water, occasionally stopping to admire the beauty of a certain plant or a particularly symmetrically positioned pair of fallen twigs. He was an aesthete down to the very core of his being, beautiful details made his day. He liked to believe that he could appreciate anything, as long as it was pleasing to the eye, but then he was harshly confronted with reality. On the shore, annoyingly close to his favourite spot, sat his future wife. He looked down at his camera. For a second, his face melted and seemed to drip down his skull; his sulk was legendary. However, seeing that he refused to show much weakness in front of anyone and especially not her, he regained his composure and strolled her way, as if everything was a-okay. A part of him was still embarrassed for his outburst in her mansion, he could only hope she wouldn’t ever bring up that bit when he lost his temper and grabbed her by the neck, screaming in her face. It was disgraceful, he knew that very well. ”Monet.” His voice was monotonous, his face expressionless. He’d resemble a statue or a ghost if it weren’t for the swiftness of his actions: right after calling her name, he raised his camera and made it flash, snapping her.

[MONET ANAIS GANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] . the imagery doesn't fit. RLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLIN Eion Slater could not have posed as someone anymore infuriating to Monet Gant. The way he walked down the corridors with an exaggerated swagger was enough to send her on a rampage that only he could cause. Rummage deep enough around and there were actually bits of Monet that had become attached to the prickish ways that Eion exhibited. Said parts were lodged deep enough within that to someone who was gazing over her innards could have easily glanced right over the tiny blips of affection. After spending the greater part of their lives intertwined it would only make sense that some of his habits latched onto her, growing until before she realized it she had become fond. Had she maybe stuck through with the marriage deal because Eion was not as bad of a suit as she had initially thought? All of these thoughts were diving into deep of a depth of water. Right now she was still uneasy with treading in the whole knee deep water. Eion would push her in if she waded out any further, she was highly sure of that. At a younger age she had learned to swim, since her mum had loved the water as much she did the land. Now it was a skill she had not used since those days when her mum still watched over her with gentle eyes. One shove into the water and Monet would be sure to drown. It sounded like something that would thoroughly please Eion. She was familiar enough with Eion but not familiar enough to know that she was infiltrating the space that had been marked as his favorite. No attention had been paid to where she sat her rump, she had only cared that the ground was not covered in snow so her arse would not become chilled. Numbed, she didn't even hear him approach, like she would have had she been in any other state of mind. He spoke her name in a tone that instantly caused her to snap her head up, looking at him with eyes roiling with emotion and the corner of her lips turned down into a slight frown. One bright flash later and the beautifully melancholy stare was caught on film, much to Monet's displeasure. "Now you're taking shots of the most horrifying things in your life? That's the perfect idea for the tragic, despaired artist image,"

[/color] she dully said to him, eyes dropping to look back at the water, which had now calmed. Her tolerance for Eion would not be tested today, when she was feeling foul and particularly worthless. She would leave if he decided to pitch a fit and throw crude words her way. No, that would surely happen, so she would leave before he could get a head start. Carefully she stood, regaining her balance on her heels and navigating her way past Eion, shuddering against the cold. "I'll leave before you can begin to list the reasons why I am a waste of precious space,"[/color] she uttered to him under her breath, hesitating a moment to look back at him before turning herself to make a path back towards that castle.
[/div]

tagged,

[/size] vika words,[/size] 539 outfit,[/size] here notes,[/size] hope these posts are okay[/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[vika6]

tell me this is all just a contest,

the one who wins will be the one who hits the hardest

She probably thought he hated her. Just because he didn’t shower her in compliments, as he tended to do with other girls, she’d assume he loathed her to the very core, which wasn’t quite true. So okay, he took a sick, sadistic pleasure in insulting her until he could practically hear the remaining scraps of her ego collapse, and he was absolutely horrible to her, but Eion very rarely hated anyone. He hated things, for sure. He hated the wind that made him prop his free hand in the pocket of his jacket, hoping to save warmth with that. He hated the marriage that was forced upon him. He hated certain kinds of alcoholic beverages, which never failed to give him a horrible headache the day after the indulgence, although that never stopped him from drinking them. People, however, were always acceptable. The best argument for his placement in Hufflepuff must be his undying tolerance for personalities. He could have a physical fight with a Gryffindor one moment and have a beer with him just five minutes after, because he accepted their violent natures as a given fact. If he could do all that, why on earth would he bother to hate Monet?

She’d mentioned a potential career as a model. That thought lingered somewhere in the back of his mind as he approached, camera ready in his hand, and photographed her. The little piece of enchanted paper rolled out of the machine immediately, he grabbed it and waved it through the air a couple of times to speed up its development. ”I thought you fancied being a supermodel,” he rather sarcastically commented, pronouncing the last words in a sing-song voice, just to get her agitated. He didn’t even think about annoying her anymore, it had become a perfectly natural reflex. ”I’m not tragic nor am I despaired. I prefer the term ‘conflicted genius’. Or sex bomb. ‘Conflicted sex bomb’, yes, that’s me.” he never failed to call upon the pleasant mental images: an enormous stage, himself, a guitar and a dia-show of his best pictures on the background. He could offer the full-art experience to his public, he could offer them everything. Only her voice made him snap back to reality, his eyes unclouded and the smile faded from his lips. Why was she leaving already? He hadn’t even done anything! ”Oh, stop being a crybaby and sit down. I’m not listing anything.” She always made him feel like an asshole, he’d even forgotten what had come first, being called an awful guy or acting like one. It had probably happened simultaneously. He flapped the picture in his hand, raising it to take a glance at the image. ”Whow, ho. Speaking of tragic, you look like I just drove over your dog. Legit. It’s good, though. Strong.” He nodded, paying more attention to the picture than the girl by now. His priorities had always been crooked, he’d much rather have a good shot than a good chat.

[MONET ANAIS GANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] . the imagery doesn't fit. RLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLIN She was aware that he hated her, or at least that was the way he had made out to be. Eion could spew out one biting insult and the rest of her day would become suddenly gray. No one else could pull her so far down off of the confidence ladder until she was wallowing in negative numbers like Eion could. Reputations were based off of what others thought of you and to Monet his opinion ranked rather high. No one else would have be satisfied what she did, only Eion truly counted in the end. Husbands generally had more of an impact on the thought processes of their wives. Eventually he would be her husband, a sour thought that spread acidity to pleasant thoughts that lingered in her mind. He was the rotten piece of fruit whose core could not be spotted for its poor quality until he had already been bit. An assumption as such could be the potential reason why Monet had a natural tendency to avoid fruit for fear they would spoil her taste buds. Against her liking, Eion had infected her mind with his presence. He would never leave her be, even if this silly marriage deal ever came to be called off like he wished. If, that was the keyword now holding bleak hopes for both Eion and Monet. Mister and missus Slater would be the only thing greeting them in times ahead, not the freedom Eion was turning over frantically to find. Modeling was one of her interests, yes, but not when the one behind the camera was a sick pig, also known as Eion. The magicked paper in his hand may have held true beauty but it had came from him, which meant that Monet had no desire to allow her eyes to fall onto the photograph."Yes, for the grown men of the industry. Not baby boys toting their toy cameras around," she snidely snipped back at him, eyes cutting into a glare to retort the sarcastic traces in his words. Pompous, yes, that was the word used to perfectly mold Eion. No other term could have suited him more. "A synonym for 'conflicted sex bomb' could also be 'exaggerated no one.'" A false sugarcoated smile perched on the edge of her lips, snappy words brought on by the natural reflex to deny Eion every self lifting compliment he spoke. His demanding her to stay was conflicting, since with every given opportunity he brushed her away immediately. Wary, Monet halted her trek to the castle and turned to linger a bit away from Eion. She was abruptly reminded of the violent show of grabbing at her neck in rage, which was only right to course alarm through her veins. Nonchalantly she brushed off the backhanded compliment Eion delivered to her, far too focused on preserving her own warmth. "The first compliment you've ever given me. I'll be sure to remember this night for an eternity," Monet said to him, feigned joy coloring her tone. She tapped her heel impatiently on the ground, wondering why he even wanted her to linger around. tagged,

[/size] vika words,[/size] 518 outfit,[/size] here notes,[/size] eionet hate is cute[/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[vika6]

tell me this is all just a contest,

the one who wins will be the one who hits the hardest

There was no simple explanation as to why he was so heartless. He’d been called all variations of that; a douche, insensitive, indifferent, icy cold, a walking blizzard, and like a real asshole, he hadn’t cared about any of it. Eion was simply excellent at controlling his emotions. Since he thought in images, he saw his soul as an empty nightclub, with a dance floor full of glitter and colourful, sticky drinks spilled everywhere. It was beautiful to him. And above all, there was one section, surrounded by barbed wire and electrical fences, with vicious lynxes surrounding it. That was the section where his emotions resided; they were kept in line and none of them could escape without his approval. Only pure rage occasionally found a way to break through the defences and make a fool out of him. That scared him – the only thing he really feared was losing control over himself, his life. All other things, death, pain, mutilation, hurting others, losing others, were natural aspects of life, which he fully accepted.

”I’m legally a man.” he shrugged. Magical law required one to be seventeen and he was just that, so eh. He’d even turn eighteen in two months. ”And I am a man of the industry. You can ask my boss for my qualifications. Actually, you should be honoured that I’m willing to lower myself to your level. What professionalism have you got to plead for your case?” Although his voice remained flat, she had indeed struck a nerve. No one doubted his talent. No one. Especially not a wannabe-model who hadn’t done a thing in her life to boost her career, who only lived off the fact she was pretty. ”Don’t project your self-consciousness on me, Girl-who-only-has-her-surname-left.” He knew just how cruel he was being and he didn’t mind it in the least. She’d provoked him, it was only natural and healthy to pay her back with the same gentleness. He’d actually come with good intentions and all he got was this atrocious sass. Hell if he needed that. And still, he was a good enough person to honestly call her picture good. That affirmed it for Eion; people saw him as a villain, while in reality, he was a dear for having put up with a whiny, alcoholic, self-destructive mess for so long. ”Do as you please.” He nearly literally waved her off, shrugging one shoulder up and down and keeping his eyes on the picture. ”There should’ve been better light, though. Wait. Stay still.” Again, he turned to her and flashed his camera in what seemed to be less than a second.

[MONET ANAIS GANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] . the imagery doesn't fit. RLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLIN Nothing about the two of them being around each other was close to anything healthy. In his presence Monet could think of nothing but foul remarks that would hopefully penetrate through his thick hide. Rarely did it ever work, with Monet being the one more scarred in the end. All of her exposed emotions, which were easily riled, gave Eion more of a grip on the things that would twist her up the most. Targeting her family, lack of purpose, and her easy ways were the top outlets for causing her hurt, and the three subjects that he hit on most whenever they engaged in conversation. More than once he had the audacity to weave her father into their banter, instantly causing tears to prick her eyes. He knew very well how tender of a subject her father was, especially with the tiny amounts of healing her wounds were beginning to cycle through. Solitary tendencies had reserved enough time for Monet to bob around in an ocean of memories that buoyed her to her father. Hours were dedicated to the preservation of his memory, until her mind had become with his image ingrained into the grooves of her brain. Now all that remained was inching forwards towards a recovery, where she could incorporate her father into casual chats, even thinking upon him fondly. Eion was only breaking down her wall of progress, which would fodder her hatred towards him, if she hadn’t been so tired of bickering. Even in her state of uncaring Monet could not pass up the offer to scoff at Eion. He called himself a man. Age spoke that such a thing was a true but his maturity around Monet took away any credit his years on earth had given him. Her eyes raked over him with an incredulous stare, refusing to digest his words."Papers show nothing, it's the way you carry yourself," she snidely said to him, looking away to mask her look. She was becoming more intolerant with the way he was acting, now growing quickly tired of the jabs he threw at her. Slowly she exhaled, murmuring something to herself in French. Her native tongue never failed to soothe her. "I've nothing to acclaim for my future, we have already established this." How many times could they beat around the same bush? Openly she could admit that no future lay ahead for her, still Eion continued to cut at the topic. She was tender, didn't he realize? Monet physically winced when he made a tear right at her orphan status, feeling tears sting her eyes. "You...words hurt...Eion...I'm going." She was babbling now, shaking her head furiously to try and dispel the tears. He could only do such heinous things to her. Her heels sunk into the ground, giving her support as she began to trek away from him for good this time. He called out to her and out of habit she turned around, lips swelled out from being bitten at and crystal drops threatening to spill from her dull brown eyes. In a second the camera flashed, catching the very image. tagged,

[/size] vika words,[/size] 517 outfit,[/size] here notes,[/size] eionet hate is cute[/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[vika6]

tell me this is all just a contest,

the one who wins will be the one who hits the hardest

If only Eion cared enough to share his deepest thoughts with the world. If he actually told people that he understood all their flaws and accepted them, maybe he wouldn’t be hated as much. At this point, the amount of people that wanted to kick him off of the ravenclaw tower evened his amount of friends and fans. He didn’t mind that, though. At least most thought strongly about him, at least he provoked people to have an opinion. Still, being with Monet from an extraordinarily young age had taught him a lot of things about her. He’d watch her spiral down, he’d heard about her losing her mother and he’d watched her become a whore and lose her father atop of everything. It was sad. But luckily for Eion, instead of sympathising, he took a step back and watched the beauty in the destruction. Saying that he enjoyed the mess she’d become was a bit much, he’d rather have her healthy and happy, but at least he could find something positive in the situation. He knew what she’d become and why, and he accepted her like that. Laziness and indifference kept him from wanting to heal her, though. She’d have to do that herself.

At times, however, he let her get to him. Childish, snappy remarks agitated him more than he’d like to admit. ”Oh, why don’t you go blow someone, if you can’t find another decent use for that mouth?” He had to play it on the person, he always did. Finding people’s weaknesses was his main forte, abusing them was what he took pride in. He still didn’t understand why he was a supposedly cute Puff. He was a man. Faintly, he picked up something she muttered under her breath, but he didn’t need to ask to know what it was. Although he hadn’t understood the words, he knew she was trying to comfort herself. She apparently needed to tell herself everything was going to be okay, now she was confronted with the big bad wolf. He told himself he didn’t feel guilty in the least. ”Yes, we have.” The fatal blow followed – he watched her crumble. Her walls came down, the glass in her windows shattered as if she were a castle he’d just bombed. On one hand, he realised he’d gone too far now. On the other, he expected to get such an image out of it, that he called her back and took a picture. The image that rolled out of the camera was his favourite of the week; total devastation, captured in a girl’s face. He looked at it, a boyish, cheerful smile on his lips. ”Glorious. This is it. I’m done.” He knew when to quit it, so he put the camera on the ground. ”Now come back, sit, and talk to me as if you don’t absolutely hate my guts.” he smirked, apparently so up-lifted by the successful shot, that he completely ignored her mistery. ”For your information, you’re the one that started provoking me. If I remember well, all I did was say your name as a greeting. You started insulting yourself and me. So man up, don’t be a cry-baby, sit and make something out of this.” This afternoon, he meant, obviously. Not the marriage. The marriage was an impossibility.

[MONET ANAIS GANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] . the imagery doesn't fit. RLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLIN Hopeless. That was the only adjective Money believed could describe every plane of her nonexsistent relationship with Eion. He had a swelling pride that grew with a simple compliment she spared towards him or raged witg obstinance if she ragged in any aspect of his personality. While she was poking and prodding at him he was busied with weasing his way into the center of her thoughts, overturning every morsel of information that could be used again her in his cruel enjoyment. Tears would flow to only create a scene that would entertain, not even spark the tiniest fleck of emotion or feeling. Eion Slater was the trippiest Hufflepuff Monet dealt with, every side of his personality revealed that he had stronger ties with Slytherin. More sense would be made in the world if Eion was branded as a serpent, not the lovable creature called a badger. Yet the world mandated that he was a badger and she was categorized, some match that didn't naturally seem to set very well with the balance of the world. In more aspects than she realized the two were more similiar than they would have ever acknowledged. Their biggest difference stood in the fact that Eion swore to Merlin his talents were going to fuel a career, Monet was on the other side of the spectrum with believing that she was burnt out and ready to be thrown aside with disgrace. Did Eion think the very same or was he masking thoughts which he would never offer to Monet as a potential way of starting a foundation for some type of relationship? He never watched the thing he said, no sort of filter placed between his thoughts and and mouth. Whatever came out usually filed under something brutal, which easily bruised Monet in her tender state. She only offered a weak smile towards Eion, depicting that she did not feel bothered by this comment, since tiredness had now taken over."I've lost my touch, so I think I've retired from such a hobby," she said, almost seeming distressed over the truthful lie that she spoke to him. The agonies that he put her through were circumstances that not many other girls would suffer through. Her backbone existed, it showed, but not when she was around Eion. Never did she question him, only shoot back retorts towards him or allow herself to be pulled along with his antics. Still she stood, watching the magicked paper produce a picture that must have portrayed her agony quite accurately, for Eion was thoroughly pleased. "You take stabs at my deceased parents, Eion. That's delicate ground, she gently said, not intending to scold for she was speaking in a meek tone. For a moment she hesitated, sinking into the silence that had fallen around them in an uneasy manner. After a shiver wracked her body she inched closer, urging her heels to lift properly from the damp ground. Once she was a respectable enough distance from Eion she elegantly lowered herself to the ground, looking over to him and the photograph with a dulled curiosity. tagged,

[/size] vika words,[/size] idk outfit,[/size] here notes,[/size] mon's too hurt for words[/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[vika6]

tell me this is all just a contest,

the one who wins will be the one who hits the hardest

He wasn’t always that bad. The times when he was pleasant to people – mostly to other Huffies, the cutest, dearest ones who deserved it - were like fuel to the fire of his ego. By proving to himself and everyone that he could be affectionate, cuddly even, he justified his own cruelty to others. There was simply one barrier in his mind: you were either on his side, or on the ‘others’’. The ‘others’ were all the people who wanted to harm him, the ones who criticised him just to hold him back, the ones who beat up his friends. Although he’d be the last person to say that all bullies were bad – he found himself liking them most of the time, at least they had a backbone and an interesting, tormented psyche – he had to stand up for what he possessed. He didn’t even want to think about anyone hurting Lucy, although he was a big guy who should reasonably be able to stand up for himself. Yes, Eion bore positivity, somewhere deep inside of him, hidden in layers of dismay.

And that positivity wept each and every time he was with Monet. She wasn’t necessarily bad, he wasn’t necessarily bad, but the combination of them and an arranged marriage was the worst possible scenario. He didn’t even reply to her half-hearted come back about blowjobs, he couldn’t find the need to shove her even further down. She was like a broken little bird, that much was obvious to everyone, and it especially contrasted with the cheeriness she’d once possessed. It seemed like an entirely different era. The positivity also wept because of his own cruelty. He knew how tender the subject was and he ruthlessly went on, stabbing into a carcass of what had once been joy. ”I know.” That was his apology. He stayed seated, obsessing over the photograph, yet he demanded her to stay. He wanted to make amends, at least for this afternoon. She’d given him something beautiful, it would only be fair to give her something back, besides a shattered heart. He felt something prick in his neck, assumed it to be her eyes and looked back at her, over his shoulder. ”You don’t need to sit so far away, you know. I’m not going to bite you.” ‘I’m just going to grab you by the neck,’ he bitterly thought to himself. That definitely was a personal low. He wanted to change it, to turn back time and get rid of this annoying atmosphere. ”You know. Let’s start again. Pretend I just say down, ‘kay? And try not to agitate me this time.” He brushed his hair with his free hand, although it was unruly and refused to get out of his face. He ended up blowing it aside, looking up like a monkey. Then, after scraping his throat, he mimicked his earlier greeting. ”Monet.”

[MONET ANAIS GANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] . the imagery doesn't fit. RLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLIN Potentially there could be a salvaged part of Eion that Monet truly believed she would be able to tolerate. Almost like pieces of scrap metal that had to be dug up to try and find the parts worth tucking away for another project. Parts of humanity showed up in his personality every now and again. Each time it surprised Monet to realize that Eion had the expected human feelings and reactions. He was not a fully registered human in her mind, more of someone who feed on cruelness and blossomed out of the despair of others. A nightmares, was that was you could call him? Not exactly but the word seemed to be the most fitting. Maybe he was an omen. Or a black mist settling over the good in her life that had just begun to sprout up, ready to wheedle anything awful into the bright things she was actually coming to anticipate and hope to bring brighter rays into her days. It wasn't always that way, on rare occasions she came to actually desire his company. Those were probably the moments when humanity had failed her and there was nothing else left for her to feel like she depend on. Bleak moments such as that had appeared more and more in the last few months, for reasons Monet could not name. Still, she could prove the point that Eion actually was desired in her life, at very absurd times but still a wanted presence. It was funny to think that at one time Monet would have been able to cheerfully counter Eion, hardly ever bothered about the things he had aimed continually at her. Death altered things considerably, changing her whole composition and the way she viewed the bigger things in life. Depression set in and obstructed the way she had once been full of flare and sassy without any thought of how her attitude would cause others to react. She only tilted her head slightly, catching the two words that he said in what she figured as a sort of apology. Monet only dipped her head, showing that she acknowledged and accepted what he said. He had asked her to sit near him, but she hadn't expected it to mean that he legitimately wanted her near. A bitter smile was given his way before she worked to scuttle across the ground, seated now with her leg pressed slightly against his. "How can I know that for sure?" It was a weak joke, one he hopefully wouldn't twist around to bite her. He was making an honest attempt and it was something that she should take notice of and maybe even congratulate him. She didn't, only nodded again. "Fancy seeing you out here, Eion," she trilled lightly, forcibly keeping her tone nonchalant, reaching out to brush out his hair that was comically sticking up. tagged,

[/size] vika words,[/size] idk outfit,[/size] here notes,[/size] mon's too hurt for words[/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[vika6]

tell me this is all just a contest,

the one who wins will be the one who hits the hardest

Looking at Monet wasn’t a generally pleasant thing. Not because she wasn’t pleasing to the eye, quite contrarily. He would’ve had an entirely different attitude towards her if she had been ugly. Had she resembled a mermaid, he would’ve been much more pleasant, because at least then he could’ve been able to pin-point a major flaw. If her looks had been bad, he wouldn’t need to look for flaws in her personality. Ugly people tended to have better personalities anyway, having to compensate in order to be the slightest bit attractive, so Eion preferred them. His aesthetic values weren’t skin deep, even though his part-time job was to capture shallow beauty. But no, Monet had to be good-looking, even though he’d rather bite off his tongue than tell her so, directly. So, in order to accept her, he needed personality flaws. And that lead to him digging into her brain, spitting, turning, ruining, breaking, destroying things on his way into the depths of her character. It was a sad necessity to him.

Also, looking at her reminded him of the contrast within himself. It was his duty to be an asshole to her to keep her from liking him, since he’d blow off the marriage anyway. Had he met her in another time and place, in another life, he might’ve learnt to consider her a fried. The more he thought about it, the sadder it became. Atop of all that, he missed his Lucy. Once this little chat was over – better said, once he’d been satisfied with the taken amount of pictures – he’d get back to the common room to snuggle the life out of him. All he could do now, however, was try a new start. He wasn’t in the mood for negative art anymore, he was fickle like that. ”You can’t. Maybe you should try it, see if you like the way I bite, hmm?” He lowered his chin to look at her from underneath his eyebrows, one lip corner twisting into a smirk. It was a not so subtle hint, obviously. However, not only did he expect her to ignore it or turn it down, he’d even be shocked if she went with it. She may be a total whore, but she had to know he wouldn’t ever lay a hand upon her. That would be unbeautifully unfair. She was close, but he didn’t allow himself to think anything physical. ”Yeah, it’s a good day, I figured I’d take some shots. I considered looking for centaurs in the Forest, but then again, I’m not a fan of being attacked savagely and trampled into a wheelchair.” This was going better, a simple, normal chat. Maybe there was hope for civility. She was obedient, so he tried to be nice. Well, nicer.

[MONET ANAIS GANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] . the imagery doesn't fit. RLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLIN Back when they were children when were all of the memories had begun, with both of their parents sitting them down to recite that sacred marriage that had been established when they had both been barely developed past the maturity level of a toddler. He had been the same Eion that was now seated beside her, grasping at the haunting photograph which held three seconds of her chilling beauty. Always the pompous one, too dignified to lower his standards to anyone else around him. Monet hadn’t been in his range at all, which had been an issue since before they had even understand what the ranks on the social ladder truly meant. At first she had been her sassy self, giving him more mouth than had even been justified. She held all of the control, a precious thing she would never be able to alleviate and hand off to Eion. In too many ways she figured that they were similar, clashing heads and turning noses without giving the other an actual chance. Eion had never been as despicable as Monet’s mind had exaggerated, bending him into a figure whose only purpose in life was to cause her torment and mental anguish. Marriage had raced her mind to believe that he was the type who she could never think of stomaching for the rest of her life. In another time and situation she believed that they were well of could have meshed as good mates. Mates in another time, bitter opponents in reality. She was only sat close to him by request, not because it was something she would subconsciously do. The close proximity felt odd, not the sort of odd that would repel her, just odd in the fact that it was possible to see the two coexist. She watched him, amused by the raising of his eyebrow and the fashion of his lopsided smirk. Eion was joking, but she couldn't deny that his offer sparked an intrigue within her. Her own lips pulled back to form a disbelieving smile, one which she hesitantly aimed towards him. "I have standards that I doubt you could meet. You seem to be all bark," she responded, playfulness evident in each word that she directed towards Eion. Her words did not hold much meaning, none that she was able to detect immediately at least. Her fingers poked through the loose weaves of her jumper, searching for something to keep her occupied. Her head tilted with interest, color coming back into her eyes with the spark of sincere intrigue. "They are ugly anyways. With quite the temper. You're better off photographing the guys of the castle who resemble the centaurs. Some alteration of the photos and it will look convincing," she rambled out, keeping the words going like she would have earlier in the year. Was Eion potentially lighting up pieces of herself that had laid inactive for far too long? tagged,

[/size] vika words,[/size] 517 outfit,[/size] here notes,[/size] eionet hate is cute[/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[vika6]

tell me this is all just a contest,

the one who wins will be the one who hits the hardest

He’d never felt anything particular towards her. Even back in the days when he’d been a semi-innocent kid, a spoiled brat who had little else on his mind but his own short-term satisfaction, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to feel for her. There was little hatred, there was little joy, there was little affection. The only thing that kept him from completely ignoring her was the speck of entertainment she provided – or so he believed. Although her annoying presence had grown on him much more than he’d like to admit, he liked to believe he could control his emotions better than anyone else. Everyone else was a moron who was led by instincts, Eion Slater was a superhero who controlled them and was led by reason and inspiration only. For someone who saw right through others and could analyse the bark off a tree, he was incredibly dense when it came to himself.

Still, he managed to turn the awkwardness into faint amusement. With a bit of luck, the positivity would snowball and increase, until he could actually enjoy spending this time with her. So far, she’d been productive for him, but who knew, she just might get pleasant. ”Oh, no no no. You haven’t ever had me, you don’t get to judge all this goodness.” He gestured from his neck down his torso, implying all the pleasure the rest of his body could bring. He took pride in being a creative lover. If he couldn’t be that – what else did he have to live for? ”Centaurs are gorgeous creatures. Nothing is ever ugly, Monet.” he sounded like a scolding mother, or an Asian martial arts master who tried to teach wisdom to a young trainee. In any case, he sounded more ridiculous than he fancied. ”I don’t alter my photos. I prefer them to be honest, thanks a lot. That’s probably why I appreciate these so much.” He put the two new snapshots of her in his lap, tracing the sharper edges of the paper with his fingertips. It was pure loathing, despair, pleading to be left alone personified. Although all that negativity was aimed at him, he found he could abandon his ego for a second to appreciate the artistic value.

[MONET ANAIS GANT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] . the imagery doesn't fit. RLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLING DEAR GET A GRIP DARLIN He was one of the few guys who she had never looked at in another light besides the one he was always viewed in: annoyance. After the death of her father her priorities had shifted, for a long time she had only been focused on sex and the brief pockets of satisfaction she drew from handfuls upon handfuls of men. Eion had never been one of the guys she glanced at, trying to gauge how much pleasure she could receive from them. Seated beside her, motioning to the "pleasurable" parts of his body, made it hard for her to ignore him. Slowly he eyes roved him, taking in some details she usually would have failed to notice. Monet nodded appreciatively at him, pausing to think carefully before opening her mouth to speak. "Then I won't judge you," she mused, stealing another glance towards him before falling silent for a moment. He had nicer features than she had last recalled. When did that happen? "In the same respect, you cannot hold any assumptions towards me," Monet spoke, her tone neutral, eyes focusing on his with nothing more than observance bubbling in pools of chocolate brown. There was something more earnest lying underneath the simplicity wit which she spoke, something she would bring to Eion's attention on another civil meeting. If they had another. Civility escaped the two when found in the presence of one another, though they had been both raised with etiquette and respect. Only a piece of Monet wondered how the thought process of Eion Slater truly worked. He was a sort of specimen she could turn over a million times yet never fully grasp to full capacity. It wasn't said outright but Monet was sure he had more facets to his personality then he let on. There had to be more depths to Eion, at times the abyss was open and for a moment she could peer in. Then it would quickly seal closed and she would be left to wonder if she were imagining things solely to grip for something sensible. She tugged on her hair absently, shaking her head and glancing at him with teasing eyes. "Horse and man are meant to be two different races and breeds. Mashed together...they are not appealing." Her nose scrunched at the thought of her torso being smacked onto the lower part of a horse. The topic was shrugged off, now swinging back to what seemed to dominate their conversation: Eion's photography. Before glancing over some, touching her shoulder to his, Monet shivered. With the sun setting the temperature was dropping drastically, while she was sat in nothing more than a thin sweater. Coldness was shoved aside so she could glance over to the photographs of herself, which she gasped at softly. "The emotion is so raw. So real. See what you do to me, Eion?" she said the words tenderly, teasing hinting gently but overtaking. tagged,

[/size] vika words,[/size] 487 outfit,[/size] here notes,[/size] y u make monet sappy[/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]