Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki & Oleander]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Oleander on 27-05-2009, 00:16:44</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oleander</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 00:16:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sounds of the bustling city woke her from a troubled sleep. Long lashes fluttered as she tried to unblurr her vision. As the consciousness came too and the world swirled to life in vibrant colors. She sat up with a start. Worried eyes glanced around trying to make sense of her surroundings. Dust fluttered in the light filtering in from cracks in the wooden walls. The light reflected and fractured off in a hundred directions as it hit the cold steel cage locking her in. <br><br>A gloved hand rose to brush obsidiant tresses from her face. Tri colored eyes widened in panic. Where was she? She strained to make sense of it all... to recollect memories.. she could remember fires... people screaming.. and getting hit in the face with the blunt end of a weapon! Rising to her feet, Esmerelda could feel a change in the weight, her weapons were gone. Her clothes torn, tattered and filthy.<br><br>-----------------<br><br><br>There had been a siege. A small town, just out of reach of high society, had been raided and plundered. It's homes burned to the ground, it's people murdered. It's children taken into captivity. Esmerelda had been spared, merely for the legend that followed her name. No one could prove it, but the evidence was too strong to deny. The Angel of the Spanish Armada was alive, and living. And by the grace of greed, she had been spared, and tossed into captivity.<br><br>-----------------<br><br><br>She examined the room, searching for a way out of the cage, something within arms reach. That was when the sound of boots thudding against the floor and voices startled her. The door swung open and a man stood in the way, casting his shadow over her. Esmerelda dropped low, defensively. A woman skirted around him, knocking him out of the way and swetting a pile of clothes, brushes, clothes, and lord only knew what onto a crate nearest the cage.<br><br><br>"She's a leavin' creature Nate, not an animal!"<br><br>The woman hissed in the mans direction, unlocking the cage and encouraging Esmerelda to step out. Quietly she did, her eyes never leaving the man. Something about him was familiar, she didn't like it.<br><br>" Stop your whining Emily. Just make sure she's presentable. We have bidders coming this afternoon..."<br><br>"Right. Off with you then while I try to make something of her.."<br><br>The man huffed and left, slamming the door behind him. With that the woman made haste. Hurry Esmerelda to comply, quietly she did, cautious of what the woman was doing, but who was she to complain? She needed a bath and some clean clothes.. perhaps she could construct a way of escaping whilst the woman tended to her image. <br><br>After an hour of scrubbing, brushing, tugging, and pinning. Esmerelda was finally presentable. Long obsidian curls were pinned with saphire ribbons and clips. The sides pulled back and the rest let down to cascade along her back and over her shoulders. A simple dress fit loosely to her small frame. She was smaller than the other women of the house hold, so it was as close to a fit as it was going to get. Gentle hands, moved to gently take the womans hand.. and finally Esmerelda spoke... she was pleading.<br><br>" Please... Miss. You must let me go.. "<br><br>"I'm sorry, lass.. I can't help you.."<br><br>Esmereldas heart sank. If she tried to convince the woman to help her.. by showing her what she truely was, she would only be putting herself at more of a risk. The woman took her hand and dragged her out into the main parlor of the store. Other girls were standing around, waiting, for the auction to begin. The selling of people was a practice Esmerelda had never liked. Slaves.. Servants. It was not a way of living. And now she was being tossed into the mix. May God have mercy on her.. and rescue her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>helsinki</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 02:31:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was not the leisure, nor was it was air that sent Matthias on his walks.&nbsp; The summer sun did often find its way to him and so too would the perfume of spring flit about his nostrils when he so wished -- but a stroll, these days, for the young lord of Ligne was not aesthetic.&nbsp; <br><br>The smell of eels and mud of Thames mingled in the curling and refractory noon air and as it reached his slender nostrils, the young lord would inhale and feel a great anticipation for what was ahead.&nbsp; Dressed well above his neck, Matthias walked the streets of the east district in a stiff and forward leaning manner -- a heavy step, his coal-black curls softly bobbing and dark eyes cast toward the ground ahead.&nbsp; <br><br>It was the whispered words of like-minded acquaintances that woke the prince de Ligne this morning; it was the promise of darker continents that committed the elegant young lord from his perfumed chambers.&nbsp; He walked until a dusky street appeared in front of him. <em>It is this one, as I remember,</em> Matthias thought to himself as he angled into the dark and narrow street.&nbsp; <em>The details always change</em>. <br>&nbsp;<br>The mouth of the alleyway was a pocket of silence.&nbsp; Yet as he walked onward, Matthias gradually became aware of a hazy noise ahead.&nbsp; He carefully stepped&nbsp; past abandoned doorways and boarded windows as the corridor grew smaller and the stones more cracked.&nbsp; The gradual illumination of the road ahead did not escape his notice.&nbsp; A few paces on and the sound was inescapable; and as Matthias pushed aside a large brown, suspended tarp, a four cornered intersection opened up to him -- as it had always done before, so willingly and so naturally.&nbsp; A loud, boisterous gathering appeared, and at the center of the bustle was a small wooden stage, just beyond the shop of exotics run by Old Brillig himself.<br><br>The usual fat faces of British gentry appeared in front of him.&nbsp; He shook their hands and exchanged niceties adeptly -- polite greetings to ugly old men with whom he shared a certain taste.&nbsp; <em>These poor devils are going to miss the prize of their lives.&nbsp; </em><br><br>Matthias de Ligne pulled off his gloves and loosened his collar to make himself comfortable.&nbsp; <em>Dark hair, pale skin, and uncanny eyes was what Aedan said: "You can't miss her."&nbsp; I wonder if anyone else knows she's here.</em>&nbsp; Matthias noticed Brillig's wife trotting a series of impeccable young things up toward the stage, but he hated being made to wait, and so a moment passed where his attentions lay with his ruined shoes.&nbsp; But as the noise died down, Matthias slowly re-focused on the event around him.&nbsp; <br><br>In a dramatic manner, the fat shopkeeper Brillig called attention to his flimsy makeshift platform.&nbsp; And as Matthias de Ligne looked up at the stage in front of him, he experienced a sight unmistakable -- a moment of pure awakening in his drowsy, indifferent life.&nbsp; The flower of Spain was in front of him.&nbsp; And it shone so beautifully in that hazy, tainted light -- in that cruellest alley of London -- he could not but pledge to make it his own.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oleander</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 03:18:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The world spun with an array of shady faces. Not a single expression she felt familiar with. But each set of eyes said nothing but dishonor, disgusting thoughts, impurity. She felt a sudden rush of anger flourish. Like a bitter after taste left on her tongue. Nimble digits lingered at the hem of her dress. Brushing over the prestine fabric, her mind racing, contemplating. She could not be here.. she could not stay here.<br><br>A hand broke her concentration, grasping her arm with a firm grip and tugging her along like a child in reprimand. Esmereldas face flustered with confusion. She was lead out onto a makeshift stage, her soft shoes made little to no noise. She frantically searched the growing crowd as voices began to whisper. She couldn't make sense of any of it. That was when one of the other girls gently tugged her over, and tried to comfort her. Soft whispered, sweet nothings, telling her it would be okay. <br><br>Esmerelda finally spoke, her voice soft, whispered. Her tongue sharp on her 'R's and a little short on her 'S's. She spoke with a bit of a purr. <br><br><em>" What are they doing? Why are we here?"</em><br><br>She held the girls hand loosely, like a frightened babe. She glanced to the crowd out of the corner of her eye, tilting her head down and to the side, allowing the soft curls to veil her face from the crowd. The young girl whispered in response. Explaining the auction. That was when Esmerelda realized the trouble she was in.<br><br>"Mi Vida!" <br><br>Esmerelda dropped the woman's hand turned to face the crowd once with a gaze that could set the soul a flame and she immediately made to move off the stage. A man halted her, easily grasping her small frame and setting her back on the stage.<br><br>"In the name of the father, I demand you release me!" <br><br>Her voice rose a pitch above common level, something she rarely did, but the anger was evident. The man reached for her hand, but she jerked it back rather quickly and shoved the sole of her foot into his gut, with enough force to knock the breath out of him and knocking the poor fellow onto his hind end. Shocked gasps, and angered comments bellowed from the crowd, oh what trouble she was in now. Albeit, the Spanish Rose was the one whom would try to run away.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>helsinki</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 04:59:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				To Matthias the crowd had mysteriously become unsettled.&nbsp; There was an energy about the space around him that made him nervous.&nbsp; &nbsp;In the corners of his eyes he saw movement but when his irises flitted towards those blurry edges, he caught nothing but the ethereal tails of passing moments.&nbsp; He blinked. <br><br>His eyes panned across the stage twice before he noticed his prize had moved.&nbsp; Thick hands had encircled both its pale arms and a strange tension seemed to mark the posture of those flanking her.&nbsp; Her hair was ruined and her head was down, eyebrows knit into an expression that pained him greatly.&nbsp; <em>Whatever is happening up there it is ruining its face!</em><br><br>As men around him sat down and began to settle, Matthias stood up sharply, his cheeks flush red, his finely-curved lips piqued crimson with anger.<br>"Attention, gentlemen, and listen to me!&nbsp; Now I don't know what is happening here but I cannot suffer it a moment longer.&nbsp; Brillig you ugly, vulgar being, I wish to stay in this wretched mud pile of yours only as long as necessary, and yet you've made 'necessary' an insufferable amount for me.&nbsp; You shall take five hundred pounds for that one you've ruined with these oafs, and if you dare take a bid higher you know exactly what I'll do to you."<br><br>He spoke in a menacing snarl, pitched deep enough to cut through the electric atmosphere and find its way to the red visage of the shopkeeper.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br>Matthias immediately marched toward the back of the stage where Brillig stood speechless and fuming.&nbsp; The shopkeeper stood helplessly as the young man approached.&nbsp; The words between them&nbsp; were inaudible.&nbsp; A quick gesture from the shopkeeper&nbsp; and&nbsp; the men holding his prize escorted it down the stairs to its new owner.&nbsp; "Call a coach for me, Brillig.&nbsp; You and I are no longer associated.&nbsp; You owe me nothing."<br><br>Finally Matthias came face to face with the divine countenance that had enchanted him earlier.&nbsp; He smiled, black eyes gloating as he put a hand to the side of her face.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oleander</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 05:18:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Once she had been detained, and the crowd remained unsettled. Words were passed between a man in the crowd, and the auctioneer. Esmerelda had been dragged from the stage to the back, once more. Those eyes followed the line from shoe to face. Meeting the visage of the man whom had wrongfully purchased her. Full lips pressed into a thin line as those tri-colored eyes stared up at him. <br><br>Instinctively, she would have flinched when he raised his hand, but she dare not move. His plam caressed along the side of her face, but her gaze remained cold. Hard, and inpenetrable. She knew she was weak, practically harmless compared to those around her. A child could do more damage than she could in this state. <br><br>Finally she shook her head, allowing the loose pins to fall from her hair and thos obsidian curls fell into their proper place. The short front strands frame her visage, bangs fell to overshadow that piercing gaze and she turned her eyes away from him. He was nothing she need concern herself with. If man kind felt so fit as to take her captive, and God had so let them... then so be it. This was her fate and she would serve it. <br><br>How had she fallen so far from Grace, that the Heavenly father would let such a thing become her? What had she so done wrong, to embrace this hellish fate. Her faith had remained strong, through the centuries she'd remained on the earthen plain, awaiting her calling, awaiting her chance to go home. She had done her duty and had done so rightfully. <br><br><em>"By the will God, I am yours to keep.."</em><br><br>She whispered quietly. The urge to weep had nearly overcome her. The tears welled in her eyes. The pain struck her heart. Head low, and arms limp to her sides. Acceptance was the first step. She could live through this.. she could do this. Nothing was going to break her. No one knew her secret. To them, she was just another pretty face. <br><br>But to historians, she was a key. A Souvineir of a life time. So long as she showed her wings to no one, she would be safe. But if it would ensure her safety, she'd do anything to live. To continue helping those on this earth.<br><br><div align="center"> <span style="font-size: 1em;" class="bbc_size"><em><strong>Por el padre celestial, yo oro para lo que jamás peca tengo commited. tu me perdonará. ¿O me ha condenado le?</strong> </em></span> </div><br><div align="center"> <span style="font-size: 0.7em;" class="bbc_size">[By the heavenly father, I pray for what ever sins I have commited.. thy will forgive me. Or has thee condemned me?]</span> </div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>helsinki</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 05:43:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>What brilliant eyes! I've yet to own jewellery as colourful!</em> he marveled gleefully as he turned away from her, pulling his hand away and slipping on the gloves he had temporarily taken off.&nbsp; It was an expensive purchase.&nbsp; Men like Brillig did not come cheap, and lacking favours was dangerous in the social world Matthias inhabited.&nbsp; He did not dwell on the thought.&nbsp; He never did.<br><br>The young lord's mind flitted between fantasies of jealous rivals and incensed clergymen as he navigated the alleyway with Brillig's men walking behind him, carrying for him the new jewel of his collection.&nbsp; His intoxicating mood had him turning around, every few steps, to eye the being he had in tow.&nbsp; It was such a delicate thing, perhaps more beautiful now than ever, he thought.&nbsp; <br><br>He smiled boyishly, red lips parting mischievously, "little flower, would you like a glass vase or one of china when we get home?"&nbsp; He laughed in spite of himself.&nbsp; "Do I water you once a day, or twice?&nbsp; Warm water or cold?"&nbsp; And before any answer could be had, he moved closer to her, nose nearly touching hers, laughing black eyes inches away from those brilliant gems of his captive's, "And in which room of my manor shall I keep you?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oleander</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 06:32:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She followed quietly. Head held high. If this was what fate had in store for her, for her to be a shiny little doll, to fit into this mans collection, than so be it. Brilligs men escorted her. Edgy, cautious of her. She had responded quite hastily before, and to so easily submit? What they knew not.. was that she was just as fragile as a flower. As this boyish man so seemed to sing. Something about him warned her. He knew something.<br><br>The way he walked, his sarcastic comments.. he knew! Esmerelda watched him closely, as he came closer she didn't move. Her motions stopped and she replied sharply. <br><br><em>" China, twice a day, and cold water if you would. Perhaps a room with the most sunlight so I may flourish, and retrieve nourishment." </em><br><br>Those hues swirled into a brilliant blue, the iris lined with a ring of golden fire, the blue etched into a triumphant grey. She could play his childish game. She wasn't afraid of him. She stood firm and she stood tall. An odd wind brushed past her, had she a will to tell the world her secret she would have bore her wings then and there.<br><br>But alas, this was not the time or place. She averted her eyes and lowered her head. She had to make due. No need setting her self a part more than he already was. Damn this all to hell.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>helsinki</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 06:51:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Matthias frowned momentarily as he digested the words so defiantly cast at him.&nbsp; He stood quietly a moment longer as he watched Brillig's men help the ageless being into the coach.&nbsp; He climbed in shortly afterward, occupying the seat left of his possession.&nbsp; He did not speak until the coach began moving.<br><br>"Tell me your name," he said curtly, gazing carefully at his hands as he gingerly removed his gloves, throwing them out of the car, "I give you this one chance to name yourself, and if you do not do it satisfactorily I think you'll make me a very disappointed man.&nbsp; By what name may I call you?"<br><br>He turned his head over his right shoulder and peered languidly at the face of his new toy, a mixture of pride and petulance flashing briefly on his keen features before it fell back upon its expectant frown.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oleander</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 07:09:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She stepped up into the coach. Seating herself curtly, and quietly. Legs crossed at the ankles and hands gingerly placed in her lap. Her eyes focused on the window as he spoke. She answered him promptly, not a moments hesitation. She knew by what name he was searching, the word Oleander would not cross her lips.<br><br><em>"Esmerelda."</em><br><br>She purred the name with sheer delight. The corners of her lips turned up into a pleasant little smile as she averted her gaze from the window and focused her vision upon him. Her eyes wide, flourished with long lashes, they fluttered as she closed her eyes and bowed her head as if in formal greeting.<br><br>She then returned her gaze to the window, shoulders back, chin up. She was not going to let him drag her down. She would responde politely, curteously, and kindly. She would treat him with kindness and respect. As she would any other being. But alas, should he prove a threat, she would do what she needed to do. Angels were sinners, not saints. They were the guardians of the rightious, the sin which allowed the innocent to pass. <br><br><em>"Was there a particular name you were hoping for?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>helsinki</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 07:52:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He grinned brilliantly as she intoned her name.&nbsp; "Esmerelda you say?" he asked her mockingly, affectionately.&nbsp; She had such a wonderful voice, he thought, and he was barely able to contain his pride as he pondered her singing voice.&nbsp; An intoxicating idea came to him and he altogether missed the beginning of her next sentence.&nbsp; "Well, <em>you</em>, we'll see if I'm capable of remembering that name.&nbsp; 'What am I hoping for?'&nbsp; Silly thing I don't hope for anything -- I know exactly what I'll have you do and I do not need to hope," he teased in a low voice.<br><br>"Do you see those dreadful buildings over there?&nbsp; Well one of those facades belongs to me and I'd like to have you up in one of my rooms -- they are rather nice on the inside.&nbsp; What do you think?&nbsp; Will you run away if I'm not careful?"&nbsp; He asked playfully -- and yet also expecting an answer as he impatiently waited for her to turn toward him.&nbsp; The sun was low in the sky and the reflection off her perfect cheek made him want to see her eyes, her lips again.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oleander</strong> on <strong>27-05-2009, 08:10:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She listened contently. That smile never leaving her lips. She closed her eyes momentarily and glanced back into his direction. Turning to look at him. The corners of her lips still upturned in a quaint little smile. <br><br>"Well, I suppose that is a leap of faith, is it not sire?"<br><br>She gestured out the window, towards the place he'd been speaking of. <br><br>" Tell me... Do you believe I'd run away, if you were not careful? Are you afraid of smothering, and causing your precious flower to wilt? Or are you merely a collector, who leaves his belongings on a shelf, collecting dust? ... Either or.. Sir.. I will not wilt away, I will not run away, but I will not sit collecting dust."<br><br>She looked down then, to her lap, neatly brushing her skirts back into place before folding her hands again and looking back out the window. Those eyes reflecting a fraction of the light. Their luminous ores burning like heavenly embers. Such a gracious creature she was, beautiful, like Lucifer himself, but she paled far in comparison. She was n'er as greedy, nor as beautiful as her fallen brethren. <br><br>A petite hand rose, to gently tuck a strand of obsidian curl back behind her ear before she dropped her gaze from the window. Her eyes rising as she focused her gaze upon him once more.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Fallen from Grace; Captive de Ligne [Helsinki &amp; Oleander]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>helsinki</strong> on <strong>02-06-2009, 08:25:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her words worried him.&nbsp; <em>She implies too much when she speaks</em>.<br><br>He responded quietly, but deliberately in his low, dulcet voice, "Some possessions gather dust, while some wilt from over-attention.&nbsp; &nbsp;I lose a great number of my possessions among my many other possessions, and some cease to exist by my own will.&nbsp; But quite simply, <em>none</em> of what belongs to me <em>ever</em> ceases to belong to me."<br><br>He looked away from her gaze, mildly upset, and disappointed with a great many things.&nbsp; The cart was quickly approaching its destination and Matthias spent the last few moments with his jaw clenched as his mind dwelled on the implications of his day's work.&nbsp; <br><br>The coach came to a stop sooner than he expected.&nbsp; Impatiently, he stepped out of the car.&nbsp; <br><br>"Follow me," Matthias commanded quietly as he took Esmerelda's left wrist and led her indelicately toward the front steps.&nbsp; He waited for the door to open, never letting go of her arm, his expression always searching -- serious as it had been much earlier.&nbsp; He considered her future -- her likely future.&nbsp; <br><br>The door opened.&nbsp; A small grey lady greeted her young master, quietly, politely, and a whispered exchange between the two saw her disappear briskly into the dusky parlour beyond the coat room. <br><br>"My little secret, this place, " Matthias said softly, almost to himself,&nbsp; "A home away from many homes away from home."<br><br>He cleared his throat.&nbsp; The door sat open in front of the Belgian noble and his company, and beyond it beckoned a dark dwelling teeming with corners. <br><br>"Come, come, right this way.&nbsp; I haven't the time for feet dragging and I must have you settled in before it grows too dark."<br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>