Age at Death: 21
Born in 1160 in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, I was a slave to a merchant and caught in the cross fire during the Crusade. I nearly died, but an mysterious stranger saved me by giving me the Dark Gift. I had traveled throughout Europe since than. Currently reside in London as a modiste.
(NSFW. This is an independent rp account, I am not Nijah, nor Alexandra Daddario)
//yes, Patiyk. I am fully aware you are sexually frustrated. But my medication started to kick in I cannot even type anything coherent. So you will have to wait.
Using Mind Gift, she opened the door and up the stairs, into her old bedchamber.
“Alone, again.” Mumbled to herself, she climbed into bed ((mun note: her coffin was still at the Marquis/Countess’)). Her emotion mixed, not sure if she should feel sad or ironic.
Sorry I had rped Nijah very poorly, due to RL shit etc.
I will be better tomorrow.
//am off to bed.
I do not believe I owe anyone reply here, but I will do one last check before I officially knock off.
In the darkness of the cellar, the only source of the light were the one from the chiller and the small flicker on the tip of the cigarette between her fingers. The arachnid had left for hunting some hours ago. She had no idea what time it was but she could guess the sun must had been up for some time. She counted the empty glass bottles on the small wooden table in front of her. Humph, roughly about ten. Some of them were alcohol. Some of them were blood.
But none of them could take the hallow pain in her heart away.
She snuggled further into the large moss green leather armchair, placed there for the purpose of drinking seclusive in the cellar. Home. She had returned to the place she had called home for the last century. She needed it. She really did. She simply could not stay in Paris and watched her best friend and her lover playing happy married couple for five days. It was too much. Simply too much.
“At the end of the day, I am alone.” She hiccuped and suddenly burst into sarcastic laughter: “As always. Tsk. And here I thought all will be different….such a foolish dream…”
She laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Until her voice hoarse and the blood tears trickled down her cheek, soaking the grey woolen boat neck top she was wearing.
And then she wept.
[[It’s getting quiet here so I suppose I will log off early.]]
She felt totally exhausted and strangely, sad.
Must be all those reading she had yesterday.
If Armand had time, she might talked about it with him tomorrow.
After the drama on certain tumblr deity, she decided to call it the night.
[[This is the goodnight post, in case I am not back later or tumblr damn thing is crash again. For those who I owe reply to, who I completely forgot because of the crash, like this.]]