bakerstreet | The Beast Within

The Beast Within

The Beast Within Meme

It's that time of year again - the time for ghouls and ghosts, horrors and hauntings, and things that go bump in the night.
But what do you do if you're one of them?

By some misfortune, your character has been... turned. The night is dark and full of terrors. Congratulations. You're one of them.

Threads can have one human and one monster, or two monsters - it's up to you!Use the prompts below, or come up with your own, and terrorise the comments page.

MONSTER

Werewolf - The moon is full, and there's a strange hunger that seems to reach down to your bones. Shed your skin, and become the beast.
Vampire - Your thirst is unbearable, and deep down, you know there's only one way to satisfy it. But be careful... don't stay out too late. The sun will come up soon.
Ghost - Death is not the end...
Zombie - ...Nor, to some people's immense discomfort, is decomposition.
Fae/Changeling - One foot in this world, and one foot in another. The power of the faerie realm can be intoxicating, but it will leech the humanity out of you.
Mermaid - No pretty Disney mermaids here. With the cold blood and the fish tail comes the end of your humanity, and a terrible hunger for flesh.
Or make up your own!

SITUATION

It bit me! - Perhaps this is a literal bite, or perhaps you've been infected by some other, more subtle means. But one (or both) of you has been infected, and you can feel the poison seeping through you... feel the transformation starting.
The night calls... - You were recently turned, and you're still finding your feet (or fins, or paws...) in this whole monster business. You have to hunt, have to feed your unnatural instincts. But do you really have it in you to kill?
What have I done? - The morning after. When there's blood and guts all over the place, or a murder victim in your front room, who do you turn to for clean-up? Who can you trust? And what do you do about people who might wander in on the evidence?
I imagine you have questions. - You've been found out. Maybe it was by a stranger, maybe by the closest of your friends, but either way, you've got some 'splaining to do.
I have something to tell you. - The other side of 4. It's time to come clean. Hopefully they won't scream. Or faint. Or try to stake you through the heart.
The hunter becomes the hunted. - Someone is after you. Someone who knows what you truly are. Can you talk them down, or kill them first? Or will the dawn see you no longer in this world?
We're in this together! - Maybe you've both been changed, and you're learning the ropes together. Maybe one of you is still human, but willing to try and work around this... little issue. Either way, it's good to know someone has your back, even when you're an unholy abomination.
Join me in darkness... - The cycle doesn't end with you, and this kind of (un)life can be lonely. Something deep in the black hole that was once your soul tells you it's time - time to bring another acolyte into the circle. Time to change someone else.
Ze seduction of ze night. - What's a Bakerstreet meme without a gratuitous shipping/smut option? Let's be honest, we all know that's what some of you are here for.
Make up your own!

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Excuse me while I squee my socks off!! :D Not sure what scenarios to suggest, but I'm generally happy with things so long as there aren't zombies involved.

((Sorry for getting back late, but I'd be happy with either werewolf or vampire with a 1 or 5 scenario is you'd like.))

[You're fine! <3 Oh man that's a tough choice, since I like all of those. I RNGed and got Werewolf-1. Would you prefer that the Count have been the one to bite him, or handwaved as some random NPC? Haunted mansion? Forest?

[I'll probably keep Callias as the android he is. Make him some weird mixture of flesh and robotic in terms of his transformation. Thoughts? :)]

((I think like a cyborg could definitely work out

And you know, I'd be happy if it was the count that did it, we could even put it in some mansion of his))

[Well, he naturally has more human parts, like organs, but all of his mental wiring? Computerized. :)

[I'm absolutely all for that! I'm a bit fuzzy on Gankutsuou plot and timeline details, if you'd rather it be placed within that universe and the planets that it involves (I'm long, long overdue for a rewatch, anyway) so I may not be the best candidate to write up a starter if that's the case. I think that's my main worry at the moment.]

((Ohhh I understand now, thanks for clearing up. That still works for me.

And yeah, I'm fine with a shared universe or just an au honestly cause yeah, the plot does get convoluted))

Who hadn't heard of the Count of Monte Cristo? The enigmatic, charming man from afar? Certainly, the festivities in the mansion were high even in the depths of midnight, many partaking of the prepared food and drink thanks to such a gracious host.

Among them was Callias, having struck it rich only recently thanks to the integrity of his business and his loyalty to his workers. His visibly mechanized right hand held a glass of wine in a surprisingly delicate grasp despite how old the prosthetic was. He simply hadn't the heart to fix what wasn't broken.

In so far, he was lucky that his original status as a rich person's plaything was cleverly swept under the rug, and he hoped it would stay that way. It had no bearing on his current self, beyond the fact that he acknowledged that his curiosity was not always the most platonic thing in the world about himself. Hybrid Children like himself were certainly known for that trait alone - in all ways that it could be utilized.

Even so, with the inebriation of wine, Callias had no interest in the others beyond shallow small-talk about gossip or nothing in particular. Aside from gossip about their host, however.

Oh, the unique things people shared about such a charming, attractive man! How kind he was, and what skeletons did he have in his closet, like everyone else? Where was he weak? Strong? Did he have a fire that burned in his heart just as strongly as some others?

Although without speaking of such things, Callias listened, hearing rumor after rumor, with plenty of speculation about the exact details. It was interesting, and it would have been hilarious if Callias himself did not wonder similar things.

As he listened, he caught sight of the cloaked moon in the corner of his eye. It was supposed to be deeply cloudy all evening, he remembered, feeling a bit disappointed that it would be difficult to stargaze later with the naked eye.

Draining what little remained in his glass, he returned the glass to a passing servant with an empty tray, feeling the gentle warmth of the wine as it went through him. He wasn't drunk; it would take more than that, and much stronger spirits on top of it, but he had a gentle, pleasant little buzz that softened him, somewhat.

The music still strong, he moved gracefully, despite his large and muscular frame, through the throng in search for a dance partner. It would be disappointing if he couldn't engage in one dance before the party concluded.

The Count of Monte Christo, a man who rose from shadows of truth as an aristocrat worlds rich. He arose as if from smoke, with no past no name. He had nothing but his title and riches.

Surely the rumors would spread about his supposed origins sooner or later. The Count preferred to let those rumors run free as opposed to the real truth of who he was.

He was nothing more than a man once wronged a long time ago, a man who for all intents and purposes is dead now. And now, like so many others he carries the curse of the werewolf. A space curse that makes him susceptible to transformation and hunger at the full moon. And no surprise it was the full moon, but he refused to let it take control of his evening.

The Count would throw his mansion gathering, moon be damned. He could make polite appearances for now. Pleasantries there, a kiss of the hand here. It appeared as though his guests were taking advantage of his hospitality well tonight. As it should be.

But one gentleman had caught his eye that evening. A lone stranger, not only interesting in appearance obviously in search of a partner for dance. Well, fate has no coincidences and the Count likes to take control of his own destiny.

In a graceful flourish of capes, he appears by Calllias' side, offering a polite bow, "Monsieur, it appears you are in need of a dance partner...perhaps we may solve this quandary for you tonight."

A refusal here and there, and, although disappointed, hardly showed it. Seemed that his lack of foresight truly bit him where it hurt, but truth be told, he had no partner to speak of to begin with, so who would he ask?

In any case, he can not disguise his genuine surprise when he is caught alone, ruddy eyes appearing almost blood-red under the elegant lighting as they widened, when none other than the gracious, attractive host himself appears. The same person whom he'd eagerly heard gossip of. He has to subtly force a breath, just one, in, then out, to calm down from such a shock. No, he did nothing wrong by listening to such things. It was only an idle thing, and nothing he'd take to heart. Not when understanding the truth of the man himself - even if it took forever and an age - was worth it.

Gossip was only born of fantasy and half-truth.

"I would decline out of politeness, Count," he begins, his original, foreign accent (from another star system entirely) bleeding out more freely in the brief loss of self-control. "but certainly, it would be insulting to turn you down when I did not wish to, would it not?" He offers a bow in reply, extending his mechanical hand without thinking first, and then manages a soft laugh, eyes crinkling slightly, as he partly pulls it away.

"Ah, I do not mind putting gloves on if it - this - makes you uncomfortable. It's an old thing, but why throw away a war-scar to be prideful of, I tend to think?"

The hand itself, while not made of flesh in the slightest, was relatively tame compared to some other modifications, choosing function over form, including with how it was much, much darker than his skin tone. The pliant surface material was worn from years of use and care all at once, the metallic sheen beneath partially visible, but it was still as soft as the natural thing. It was clearly old, by some years. Outdated.

Already, he reaches for his pocket to pull out his gloves, a very tiny blush crossing, and fleeing, his features.

Indeed his guest had worn the conventions of polite conversation well, as much as he did. The Count made no intention of shaming the other man publicly for choosing to come unaccompanied. He was not nobility like that.

The Count's face stays cool and stoic before breaking into a pleasant smile, "It would be such a waste of an evening to spend it not dancing. But even more a waste of poise to cast aside your say in the matter.

Though he's left hanging, the Count doesn't pull away. No, the make of the hand was fascinating to him, seeing the mix of practicality mixed with the closeness to realism. It had its aesthetics, coming from another time though much a product of some past...like himself, "Such things have no reason to disgust me, monsieur. It is rare for those to wear their scars so openly on them and with pride. Do not cast away your pride for fear of insulting lesser sensibilities."

The count took ahold of the man's hand, grasping it delicately as he gave an assuring smile, "No need for your gloves with me, monsieur."

In response, Callias's hand returns the hold, and he puts his gloves away. He notices the cool temperature of the Count's hand, and gives him a little squeeze, in a friendly attempt to warm it with his own body heat. After all, the prosthetic carries some manner of body heat in order to keep the mechanics inside from freezing up.

"Oh, why do you think I went without wearing them for so long? It is not out of fear; I merely ask to be considerate of my partner. I do not care if anyone gawks at it, laughs, or jeers. Let them, for such does not undermine the truth of such a scar. But some people object to certain textures, I find. It discards no comfort for me, to ensure the comfort of another in this way."

Even so, he's clearly happy to have such a touch, as his eyes crinkle gently.

"Shall I lead? Take a touch of the burden from your shoulders tonight? Or would you prefer to lead?" he asks, his gaze softening. Perhaps it is his flaw to regard others so kindly even when he barely knows them, but such sentiments are hard for him to shake. Even more so simply because of his desire to know this man, no matter how surface-shallow it is. Not for boasting rights, but simply to have that knowledge alone.

"I simply find joy in the dance itself, regardless of the role I play." He would even follow if he met a woman who wished to lead, as he is quite comfortable with himself and how he thinks and feels.

No excuses, no insistence. Even if it would make him happy to take a touch of that burden away from such a generous host, he does not want to sway his mind, unlike how he might with others. Those who he knew at least somewhat, and thought lesser of. Awe aside, for now, he holds no particular positive nor negative feelings about the Count.

The Count actually finds it fascinating, even given his own unique physiology. He gives it a gentle squeeze before his hand withdraws, "There is much admiration in one who bears the truth with such pride. It can be so effective when shown to those who shirk from it. Of course, I have no problem with your prosthetic, I find it rather pleasing to the eye, if I may be bold."

It is true, there is something admirable in someone who can take pleasure in sentiment without fear, even for a man who has let go of sentiment himself for such a long time. What role to play indeed...for being the host did prove tiresome, but not as tiresome as the secret weighing in on him.

He let his hair fall back as his eyes closed in a temporary meditation before the dancer-to-be. His stance became less dominant, more open to the direction of another human being, "Would it be so imposing for a host to ask a guest to relieve the burden tonight? I sense your dancing may be a joy to experience as the secondary party tonight."

There he went, gazing with those regal mysterious eyes again, "I would be joyed if you lead me." His guest held such promise, such a dance could be a peek into what sort of man he would be.

"It brings me pleasure to grant you such joy," he replies, open and honest.

With that, he steps into the Count's personal space, bows with the slightest of flourishes, and offers his hand to take. Even in those moments, he's already catching onto the beat of the music, the ebb and flow of notes. His posture: more dominant, assertive, without any forcible push or pull.

The Count has the choice to follow. It is a last measure before the roles are taken.

"Please, impose yourself. I welcome it, and gladly," he teases.

He need only accept his hand. One gesture is all it takes for Callias to lead, in the hopes of bringing their dear host some reprieve of the night's duties. While dancing, he grants the Count not only some relief, but insight into the android's very nature. From the warmth of his body to the earnest happiness in his gaze, especially knowing that his prosthetic does not trouble the man at all. That he actually enjoys it.

If he had no control over his functions, blushing would come all too easily. And while it does so at the moment, he usually keeps certain physiological responses turned off.

For once, the Count willingly relinquishes his charge. It's a relief to step into something that doesn't require leadership or power. Callas already knew how to move into it so naturally, as though he had studied dance often. Or at the least been to enough dancing events.

It's his choice and he choices let the android take him away. "Then let us have this dance."

And through the music Callas leads him so well, moving with the ease the Count had expected. And the Count yielded just as easily, moving into the ebb and flow of the dance much like a boat moving through currents. And Callas, he could see the android before him had a comfort with his body, mechanical parts and all. The Count almost envied such a comfort, if his inhumanity hadn't made him so shrewd. But even head couldn't keep from noting the warmth of the other leading him, a warmth that was most comfortable.

Neither did he miss the blush. The Count however, always kept his same regal air: graceful yet impenetrable much like the river beneath moonlight. But even tonight it was obvious to those close enough something irritated at his being.

Yet his formal manners were kept, "So far you are meeting my expectations. Perhaps we were destined to meet like this, have you considered?"

Even under such formality, Callias's flush only darkened by such bold words. Even so, he did not falter in the dance, continuing to lead in instinct, effortlessly.

"Destiny, you say?" As if it needed repeating, though it didn't. Callias simply was taken aback by such a sentiment.

"I did not think it possible, truth be told, though I knew that if I attended enough gatherings, the chance of even glancing upon your face would only increase. Destiny is mysterious, and I would not claim to know it so well as to..." Clearing his throat just the slightest bit, he did his best to rein in his words before they flew away like birds. Before his train of thought branched out to the point of needing pruning.

"I have considered it," he instead answered properly, straightforwardly. "but I never expected such a meeting to ever happen. But I am a curious sort - if it is truly preordained, I can only question 'why'. Knowledge, especially the workings of the world around me, is my heartfelt passion."

Even so, Callias chalked up the irritation to fatigue. Even Callias had more childish moments to his name, and he was not above the illogical nature of emotion itself.

"But if it is destiny that we meet, then I hope it is one that rewards us both."

The Count himself noted how well he could move with the tempo, finding a rhythm quite effortlessly. Despite his own words, Callias managed to stay strong, it was admirable. He smiled, retaining that enigmatic edge.

He could tell enough from what Callias already said, "So you came for the chance meeting with me. That is fair. After all, it is the strongest who control their destiny.

The Count's eyes wandered momentarily as though musing something else before returning to Callias. He shrugged, "Curiosity, hmm? Would you dare look into the workings of the world, even if what you saw terrified you?" He paused, "Of course, you must have answered that question yourself long before our meeting. It is your passion."

He wished to put that aside, his own nagging concerns and focus on the dance as he gazed into Callias' eyes with an uncharacteristic warmth, "It may. We shall see."

"Hmm." A soft note, of thought and acknowledgement. Callias continued to sway to the beat, leading the dear Count with confidence and care rolled into one.

"I have indeed wondered that, myself. Would it disturb you, if I told you that I would indeed look? I would peer upon the context of Pandora's Box given half the chance. To me, understanding brings me all the closer to embracing the world as it is, as well as understanding the place I wish to be. For all the sorrows it contains, for all the horrors, the truth is a wondrous thing, even if lies are simpler, easier, softer.

"Even if I should become fearful, no, terrified, I dare say it will pass. It will pass, and I will understand, and embrace this truth. It is what I love about much of the universe itself."

Despite the confidence in his words, and the topic at hand, his own gaze is gentle, and warm in kind. Delicately, the android adjusts his grasp on the Count's hand, and leads him into a twirl, simply for the sake of it. Rather than fully conform to the music itself, he dares to attempt to stand out just the slightest bit. To prove that he does not mind following the beat of a different drum even while the rhythm is the same as everyone else's. All without stepping out of time with them, but changing it up so that they're not all the same.

"Would you look upon such a truth as well?" he couldn't help but ask, his gaze still kind, a delighted smile upon his lips. There is no right or wrong answer to this question that he's turned upon the Count. Regardless of whether it is truth or lie, his enjoyment of the moment would be difficult to snuff out.

Ah, a poetic one as well? The Count listens intently as Callias leads him in a smooth arc of dancing, both their bodies in a mix of dance and words.

"Hmm," he mused during the dance, "You can decorate your words well. But beneath the prose of your tongue I can sense the truth to what you say. Perhaps you are one of the few who can look past illusion and see what fruit truth has to bear."

In the midst of his dance the android gives him a spin, his hair trailing majestically. The movement would be awkward to some, but to the Count it feels rather freeing. He returns to the same hold, his footing never making a misstep. "Perhaps you are one to taste such fruit as well."

He glances away, his eyes looking out to the darkness outside, "I see the stark truth every day." There are many things he had withheld from others, but he would not let it mar the other's enjoyment. "Later, you can look into the Box which bears the forbidden fruit. If you dare."

About to reply, at first, that his mother taught him well, to be honorable and true even in the face of liars, and those who would mask the truth with pretty words.

Although the Count's offer fills him with a faint sense of dread - the reason of which he cannot place - it quickly is overcome by earnest curiosity. By excitement. His eyes widen, muddied red-brown eyes focusing on the count's own, as if he could judge whether or not it is a lie by glance alone.

"You have such a thing? Truly?"

He's trying not to grin outright, so simple and enormous his joy is. There's no mistaking his emotions, all the same, given the pleasant crinkle to his eyes. He's touched, excited - the exuberant flutter of his pulse at his neck is almost visible to the naked eye at this proximity.

"To share with you something of such tremendous value... would make me incredibly happy. Please, do allow me, Count."

It is then that he realized that he had forgone a proper introduction of himself. Still not missing a step in the dance, he laughs to himself a little.

"I'm afraid, in such an excitable state, I have neglected to introduce myself properly! I am Callias Rebane."

His mother's surname, but not his in his home-world, for a creation like himself was not permitted to have one.

But here? Here he holds the name with pride.

Had he said such things, the Count would find amusement in his heart at such a naive brand of optimism.

But Callias takes the offer, one he believes the other knows they won't back away from. And if they find their courage and honor fail them in truth's face? Oh well.

"Indeed," he measured the other's reaction, the joy of being invited and the excitement of discovery. It was as clear as the Count's own pleasantly misty intentions and meaning. "There is such a thing in my possession."

He smiles at the other's over-earnestness. "It is a time for many emotions to run high." He noted towards the night sky. The Count bows once the introduction ends, "My pleasure, Monsieur Redbane."

It was an interesting name, almost similar to Dantes. He makes subtle nods and fleeting glances upstairs, "Ver well, Callias. I believe we should have a more secluded location for matters so...private."

Were one to look into the old origins of such a name - first and last included in the mix, one would come up with "beautiful fox." Perhaps his mother had such intentions in mind - a clever person, raised with high hopes of a pure heart.

Or perhaps it was mere coincidence. Only his mother knew for sure.

As it is, Callias bows in return - a gesture for a gesture, like a mirror, down to the seconds to match.

For a moment, and only a moment, his mind takes a very brief dip in the gutter to hear the word "private", and then mentally waves it off. No, he will not pursue this as one might a bed partner. That's not his intention, even though he looks up to him, if only for his beauty and charisma alone in so far. Even so, there is a faint pang of kinship - two people like them, having come so far to make a name for themselves here.

How could he not?

"I see. Please, lead the way when you feel it is right to do so, and I shall follow you."

An invitation, in case the Count wished to dance more with him. He would not assume, like a child, that such a moment would be now. No, he had waited a long time, and he could wait for longer still.

"Until then, I am more than happy to continue to dance, if it is your wish as well. You are a very skilled, elegant partner."

Edited 2017-01-21 10:39 (UTC)

Another hidden commonality they shared, unknown to both of them: hidden names or at least hidden meanings in names. Callias and Dantes.

He raises a brow at the speed Callias bows back, mentally noting a possible quick reaction time.

It was natural for the Count to tease and bait those he ran into. It was more likely for him to stir the chemistry between himself and those he began to find a good rapport. Though for now, the Count knew there laid many possibilities ahead in the future. Some of those possibilities seemed not so pleasant.

"Later, young master Callias," he affirmed. How impressive this other one could take initiative when they wanted.

He took a gentle sweep of the other's back, ready for the next move as he smiled through those hazy, differently-colored eyes.

"Very well. Shall I lead or shall you continue?"

"I, ah, I'll continue to lead," he replied, flustered, but seamlessly leading the dance once more. "I suppose my age shows embarrassingly plainly."

Despite being well into his 30s, Callias's body hadn't aged much past its 20s. It was mostly thanks to a case of mental stagnation, but he didn't really mind. Should the Count make good on his words, no doubt he would wake up the next morning with perhaps a wrinkle or two, depending. Who knew?

Knowledge, experiences, dreams - all were possible tools to allow him to age, from small to less subtle ways. All were also sources of change. A mirror entity with many people passing in front of it, but the mirror kept a fragment of those it reflected. A trait here, a tic there... some kept, others discarded.

As it was, he could not help but feel a little dizzy on a mental level from how the Count looked at him. It certainly didn't affect his actual balance, but the delightful little swimming sensation was an interesting experience. All system readings: within normal parameters -- a brief flash of green text visible, and then gone, from a far corner of his vision.

He was happy to lead, matching the tempo as if he was one with the music itself, though he possessed no natural talent for dancing. Every step was from hard, countless hours of practice. Of ingraining it deeply into his muscles and bones. His gaze only rarely veered away from his partner, and only to make sure that neither of them bumped into another couple.

Callias caught some jealous looks - to which, he could only flash a brief, daring grin in reply. Let them be jealous, and let their gazes burn into my back. I have the Count's attention all to myself, for now, and I'll be damned if I take it for granted!

Once more, mid-step, he lightly flexed his grip on the Count's hand, pretending to adjust his grip, but really just wanting to burn every sensation deeper into his memories, as well as make sure that the dear host's hand remained warmed by his body heat.

"Your mental age, I assume?" he alluded quite cryptically. He was no mind reader, but he could ascertain enough from what the other said and did with him. "I would say it shows a mature enough age, perhaps on the cusp."

And it was an accurate and fair assessment: Callias behaved very much like a young adult. Not that he complained, he enjoyed these kind of dalliances between younger and older, experienced and naive. The Count had much knowledge to impart, Callias looked open to much of the knowledge he had to divest.

But it felt more than just a game with the android, the Count felt a curious wave of fascination as he let himself be led in the hands of the android. He made swift work of matching the movements, bending and tip toeing back and forth within the parameters of his partner's movements. He knew people could see them. They were almost the center of the party, but others had their own revelries. The Count, however felt no embarrassment or fear seeing them. Through his physical grace he can display his prowess as a Count and a man.

He held that hand close, squeezing in turn as he spread that warmth to him. Callias managed to close a gap between the both of them, something rare in his many encounters.

"I assume that your touch yearns for more," he said with a soft grin.

"Hm, you read me well, though I pray it isn't quite so obvious as you can make it out. I wear higher collars for this reason as well. Hides the exposed metalwork at my neck."

He smiled fondly, shamelessly leading them to and fro among the crowd, wearing a pleasant smile and harboring smug satisfaction upon seeing the odd jealous glance or two. It was satisfying, seeing that burning look for even a split second, when before, he was gazed upon with utter disdain for simply not being born in the conventional sense.

And, even if only for tonight and never, ever again, he felt he made a suitably elegant partner despite - in spite of - his physical "flaws."

For the Count to have no shame in touching his artificial hand, surely he would have no problem touching him still, even knowing he was a man-made creation.

It's when the Count squeezes his hand in reply that he fully drew his attention back to his partner, his heartbeat thrumming against his ribs with all the quickness of a stone skipping across a pond.

"Ahh, I am weak to it. To touch. I thrive on it, as it is both my preference and nature, but I will never expect from you more than you wish to give. Even this much..." He gently squeezed his hand once more, pointedly, and then unabashedly drew it to his lips, gloves and all, in an attempt to express just how deeply his desire for touch could go, and in the hopes of further keeping that hand warm. "...is beyond satisfying. To speak boldly, despite the nature of my fantasies, I think very little could measure up to this night with you."

His gaze softened, and he withdrew his lips from the Count's hand, a flush dusting his features. He pulled him close all the same, almost scandalously close. Enough to make any wandering eyes wonder, but at the right angle, prove that it wasn't at all lewd. Even so, Callias made no effort to hide his keen interest and growing affection. He was the type to rapidly get attached, to want to please those around him.

The Count was no different in this perception, and yet, Callias found himself warring with the urge to be careful, against the desire to be his bolder self. The more bold he became, the more he worried if it was too much, too soon.

"And that there is yet more, in time? I am excited to the point that it feels like electricity is skimming through my very being. Figuratively speaking."

The flush on his face darkened, further and further still, until his skin was almost as red as the flecks of that color in his eyes, all the way up to the tips of his ears.

"Because it's also very, very literal, but, well. ...Right."

His footsteps stumbled a bit, as a direct result of his embarrassment, but he quickly picked himself back up.

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The Beast Within

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Let me know if I need to change anything! :)

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My face when I saw your reply in my inbox: OVO

and I shall continue to reply no matter how slow I be

And I will welcome it. <3 Your Count is fantastic so far. :D

Oh gosh thank you he's practically a new muse to me

<3<3!

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<3<3<3<3<3!!!

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Oops! It seems I misworded the bowing part. Still works, though. :)

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