I know your rules

I respect all rules

i am sure You know my rules for now. Not sure when or if they will change Ms

Thank you voda

Enjoying your attention

i can see why Ms they are beautiful

mmmmm nice of Her to say Iam trying

https://el.phncdn.com/gif/25731302.gif

Giggles at your thigh comment
I love my leg muscles

He did not answer, but instead pushed forward with both feet in a bursting attack, and with both hands drove the stake into the fiend’s heart, relying on the surprise of the moment and his own gifts to seize the upper hand. With his right hand, he pounded the end of the stake once… twice, a third time, and the abomination stopped its wretched hissing and dropped, insensible, at his feet.

With a sigh, he withdrew his handkerchief and pressed it against the wound at his neck, holding it there with a firm pressure to staunch the flow of blood. He straightened his coat then and looked down at the fallen fiend. “I have been asking myself that very question for a remarkably long time.” The question of ‘what’ he was had been asked but he longer questioned ‘why’ he had been changed in this way, so long ago.

Gathering himself, he bent down to hoist the fiend to its feet and began half-carrying and half-dragging the creature back up towards the entrance of the close, somewhat scuffing the leech’s shoes as he made the slow trudge back up the High Street towards the edifice of St Giles’ Cathedral.

She sat with the long legs tucked beneath the threads of the brown gown and the stained ivory undergown faring not much better. Watching silently the man emerging from the sea, the slight shine of light in the gold eyes left when she squinted from the rays solid and bright in the grip of the day. The solid form of Mandha stood nearby; his attempt to share words met with the turn of her shoulder; the lithe form buffeted by Thassa winds and moved away to the length allowed by the iron links of the chain; it was where she remained. Upon the rock now, limbs curled, hidden away in the tatter of a stained, brown skirt and the wealth of wild disarray of hair mantling the rest.

She thinks you are on the right road to recovery

Robert M. King Performance Hall
They'd waited an appropriate amount of time to let people filter in. Grabbed a drink. For all that they aren't enthused about their son's acting as a profession, they have been to the shows. Played the proud parents at appropriate junctures.

Elodie Stone's involvement has increased their enthusiasm for tonight considerably.

They are dressed beautifully, appropriately, utterly put together for their night out at the theatre.

It's easy enough for them to spot Leo, tall as he is, Elodie at his side. When they do, they are making their way over. There's a beaming pride as their eyes land on the couple of the hour, and a polite, perfect smile for Holly Blanc.

His father is the first to speak. "Congratulations, all of you. Elodie, your writing has only improved, you should be proud." They will, offer hugs to Elodie - his mother will hug Leo, his father giving him a solid clap on the back. "We're proud of you, son."

His mother chimes in, "marvelous work, all of you." Including Holly Blanc in the praise, of course. "And you two make quite the handsome couple!" This, to Elodie and Leo.

Then, look expectantly at Leo, waiting for an introduction.

Like the feel of Your thigh Ms reetha

Really what did She say Ms

Miss Kitara is pleased with you

*Bounces in and hops onto the couch*

Sitting down beside you

swings by

Hello Ms it’s my pleasure seeing You

It was a studied and practiced art to maintain his drunken mummery with the knowledge that his quarry would soon strike, but maintain it he did, staggering a step forward before a pair of infernally strong hands seized him from behind.

He hated this part, hated it with every fibre of his being; the vampire’s ‘kiss’ caused most to enter a sort of euphoric fugue as they succumbed to the feeding – only the most careless leech took more than the victim could afford to lose, but it was never a certain thing. For him, though, all he could feel was the wrongness of the act, the touch of a profane thing feeding on sacred life’s blood arousing only disgust and, inevitably, anger.

As the creature draw him back against itself and forced his head to the side, he allowed it to happen, though he hissed through his teeth when the creature’s own pierced his skin, sending spittle flying in fine spray.

He knew what would follow, what had always followed in those few times he had allowed himself to be bitten like this. As his blood touched the undead fiend’s lips, he waited for the first stirrings of the screech which began to tear from the creature and then drove his head back, hard, shattering the vampire’s nose with a satisfying crunch; there was little blood, as there might have been with a man, the foetid ichor of the fiend a congealed, unliving mass.

As the creature staggered backwards, less from the blow and more from the searing pain spreading through its face, Gideon reached within his coat and pulled one of the wooden stakes from its hidden holster.

With a, literally, smouldering countenance, the vampire hissed again and spat at him, his own blood dripping from the creature’s blistering mouth; another Gift of his condition, neither his flesh nor his blood would offer succour to any such being, serving only pain and ruin instead. It clamped a hand over the ruin of its face, growling. “What the bloody hell are you?”