last ride of the day [[faust]]

[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]627 WORDS FOR FAUSTUS no notes except: THEY ARE GOING TO BE EPIC. WOO! yeah, that's really all i have to say. also, sacha's muse responds to kpop.... DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]It was a nice, quiet evening for a stroll in the park. Sacha Leroux had closed his shop up early that day, feeling too exhausted to deal with more pandering to customers. He'd only just arrived in London and was still trying to adjust and settle in. His home was modest, though certainly could live up to the estates the nobility possessed. Still, he did have a few of his home's staff members to help him through the transition, and it wasn't like he was being sent out to be on his own- he'd chose to come. In fact, he'd choose not to have any staff's assistance had it not been for his father's insistence. In truth, they were necessary to him, but he worried about putting them in danger due to his condition: one that none in the household knew about. How he had hidden it for so long was beyond him. As much as they knew, the young master of the house was chronically ill and his disease a mystery to doctors. The tiredness, fatigue, and bruises. were just symptoms that peaked once a month, but if only that were true. It was most difficult to come up with an excuse for the cuts and stained blood to why he'd started saying that he had thin skin that tore easily. Yes, this mystery illness gained much sympathy from them, but he knew the truth. If they were to find out, there would be no pity only despise. He sighed tiredly, making his way over to a bench and taking a seat. The crowds were significantly dying down as the upper class prepared for their nightly routines whether some party or the theatre. It seems that all the rich did was celebrate their wealth, and while he did come from a significant amount of money, he never found himself identifying with them. On the contrary, he was often shied away in a corner, keeping to himself. Yes, now it was his duty to represent his family in a new market- in England- but he didn't really care to get started sooner than he had to. The parties were boring, the people were fake, and the clothes were a bit too fluffy for his tastes. Perhaps he would venture to the tavern for some cheap beer. The thought alone made him perk up, and had not he been worried he'd come into contact with a prospective client of his business, he would have pulled out his flask and started drinking right there. As it was, he was uncomfortable with the prospect of being drunk in public, so for now he would choose the patient option. Only an hour or so until sundown, he could distract himself until then. The night was young, and if he got drunk now, he wouldn't have time to really focus on his writing. Pen touched parchment as he began to scrawl. What was he writing about? Nothing in particular, but he never did. The words came to him, and he would examine the subject matter later. Sometimes he had his best ideas in unexpected situations, but a lot of the time, it just came out garbage. More often than not, it was the latter. He sighed at the thought. Who was he kidding? So many talented artists wanted a chance to have themselves published and read and revered. Most of them were far poorer than he and far more talented. At least he had a job, house, food, and money... yet he couldn't help but let himself dream about the life he really wanted. No-not a poor artist... but a respected writer. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[FAUSTUS WILLIAM ALDEN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I WISH YOU FELT THIS WAY. YOU TAKE AWAY THE PAIN. SO TELL ME, DO YOU FEAR THIS? Boredom. One of his worst enemies. Usually he could one thing or another to occupy his time until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. But not today. No, today not just anything would do. He would need something quite specific and enthralling. Finding nothing that would entertain him in the town house, Faustus pulled on his boots, coat, and top hat then stepped out onto the street. Choosing the direction on a whim, he began to walk. Dark brown eyes remained sharp as he made his way along the street toward Briar Park. It would be upsetting if he were to pass by something of interest without taking notice; Faust would be quite angry with himself. As he walked along, he tried not to be obvious about his constant search, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. Luckily at this time of day, and in this part of town, there wouldn't be too many people out trying to sell one thing or another. While he was usually annoyed with such things, maybe on this day he would have found such pesterning to be of interest. Damn. How unlucky. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his wool coat, the young man hurried his steps, crossing the street and entering the park. There ought to be something here. He wasn't one to become emotionally distraught, not often, but at the present time, his boredom was enough to make him upset and a little angry. Irritable. His younger brothers had gone off somewhere with their mother, and the Marquess was out of town for some reason or another. Occasionally he would bother the servants, asking the butler for a game of chess, or teasing the maids to perform a dance. But today that wasn't enough. His piles upon piles of books weren't enough; they hadn't drawn him toward the at all. Not today. Faust kicked at a small pile of snow once he'd walked a little deeper into the park, and as he watched the small white mass break apart, fly up, and then wall back to earth, something caught his eye. Someone caught his eye. Was this what he'd been looking for? Before he could lose sight of this subject of interest, Faust walked toward the man on the bench, and acting on pure impulse, took a seat beside the stranger. If anyone with a hunger for gossip were to catch sight of him, they'd likely lose interest if they saw him sitting with someone he was apparently comfortable with, rather than a stranger. Or so he believed. "How do you do?" A tip of his hat, and a smile charged with enough charm to make some women faint. Hopefully this beautiful stranger didn't ruin his little plan by reacting unpleasantly. Or perhaps--gossip mongers be damned--that could turn out to be more interesting for Faust. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]600 WORDS FOR FAUSTUS notes notes notes... i'm very fucking tired, okay? i want sleep. ;~; also, apparently 2ne1 works really well for him. DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]It wasn't often that someone came up beside a person in London and sat down next to them without acknowledging their presence. It was improper and showed lack of etiquette. Sacha sighed and closed his book. He had to take a deep breath to keep from snapping. He had been in the middle of something, hadn't this man been able to see that? And it wasn't as if he was just going to share his private thoughts with a complete stranger. Upon snapping his book closed, he finally turned to face the stranger only to be caught off guard by one of the most dazzling smiles he'd ever seen. Although he did appear taken aback, he quickly regained his composure and cleared his throat. "Hello," he said with a hint of annoyance and a narrow in his eyes. Just who did this guy think he was coming up to him and interrupting him? He couldn't care less if he was the crowned prince! How incredibly rude! He'd visibly seethe if they weren't in public and it wasn't customary to be kind. "Did you need something?" Sacha didn't feel as if he should be forced to introduce himself just yet. Perhaps this man was trying to get a discount from the store or wanted to buy something that they did not carry- their dealings with the black market were well-known even if no one officially said anything that would incriminate them. No, that would be too damaging to the nobility. They could no longer find many of their elusive goods. He didn't know England's black market well yet, but France and India he had some dealings with before. It was expected, though. He was his father's only son. It would be his job one day to take over the business. He crossed his legs subconsciously and leaned on his arm. His clothing of the day was still rather fine and showed he was not of poor status, but he had just came from the shop where he was supposed to dress nice. He had yet to return home in order to dress down and go out drinking for the evening. At least, that had been his tentative plan until now. He had no idea what this encounter would entail, and he supposed he could become indisposed should he be tied up in trying to please the other man... his mind stopped with that train of thought, his eyes wide as he realize that his thoughts, if vocalized, might have been misinterpreted. Certainly, this visitor couldn't read minds, but he still felt incredibly embarrassed. His face flushed a little, and suddenly he felt a little more agitated with the encounter. It wasn't the poor guy's fault, he'd only flashed a charming smile! However, that had been enough to spur a trainwreck of thoughts within the other than he really didn't wish to pursue. It wasn't that finding another male attractive was a bad thing- not that he was saying Faust was, but then again, he wasn't saying he wasn't- but the whole concept bothered him. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of such thoughts. Most people did, he supposed, but he found it more beneficial to repress them if only because he new he would never have anything similar, even with a woman. Now was the time he could really use some alcohol. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[FAUSTUS WILLIAM ALDEN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I WISH YOU FELT THIS WAY. YOU TAKE AWAY THE PAIN. SO TELL ME, DO YOU FEAR THIS? Before he could get a peek at what the other had been writing, his involuntary companion snapped it closed. Hmm, perhaps this would get quite entertaining. Though Faust didnt want him to go into shock from the current lack of the young Marquess' ettiquette. He would have to play this right. This was certainly more fun than laying about the house. Though, he wouldn't have minded laying around with this man. He saw that his smile had given the other pause, and he allowed himself to believe that it was due to the other being momentarily stunned by his handsome features. His ego most certainly didn't need nourishment... His head tilted a little to one side when the other didn't respond too politely. Mischief glinted hin his eyes, and he tried to keep his amusement from showing on the rest of his face. Did he need something? Why yes. An enthralling conversation perhaps. Or, to see the other male stand and undress before him. Yes, Faust most certainly needed that. Lust coiled lazily in the pit of his stomach, and he had to clear his throat a little. Faust wasn't sure how to answer, watching the other's face bluntly as he tried to think of the right words. And as he looked, the other male's eyes widened and colour entered his cheeks. Why? Was the attraction mutual? Could Faust have gotten that lucky? He was a fairly blessed individual... "I suppose I need..." He let the phrase trail off suggestively, toying with the other a little. Perhaps by flirting, he could figure out for sure if the other wanted him. Maybe Faust's wait and worry had been worth it. Taking this man somewhere, to a dark room, a large bed....yes it would have been worth it. "Some company." Faust finished the sentence after a few moments; he hadn't wanted to wait too long and for his sentence to sound too disconnected, but he'd wanted to make his hint, while keeping his wording vague. After all, "company" could mean a number of things, a number of innocent things. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]700 WORDS FOR FAUSTUS love love love love love~ *sings* good thing i waited until this morning to post! look look look! so many words! and i didn't have to force them. gah, but i love sacha and faustus so much~ DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Sacha could tell by the other's mannerisms and speech that he was fairy young, perhaps even younger than he. Likely still in his teens- and on top of that, the clothing he wore and the self-entitled atmosphere surrounding him screamed self importance. He had to be of nobility. There was really no explanation for it otherwise. And it wasn't just his mannerisms and speech, the clothing he wore was quite expensive and well-tailored. He may have assumed another merchant's son had it not been for the way he'd waltzed over and sat down next to him as if he owned the place. Nobles had a terrible habit of that, he knew. As soon as he was told that the reason for the interruption was the other's desire for some company, he sighed and began to rub his temple. He really didn't want to spend the afternoon babysitting some young noble just because the household staff couldn't do their job of keeping him entertained. He had things to do! Mainly, he was going to go get drunk and sleep the night away, but it was nonetheless important and something he had planned to do... alone. He didn't want to appear rude, but his agitation was obvious as he rolled his head back and looked up at the sky. Taking a deep breath, he finally looked back at the other male with a polite smile plastered on his face. "I'm afraid I'm not terribly good company," he spoke plainly, his voice giving no indication that he was accepting or declining the invitation. "Perhaps you would have better luck attending some sort of festivities tonight- I've heard that the theatre makes for good entertainment," that right there would give away the fact that he wasn't a native to London if his soft French accent didn't. In truth, he'd been working on trying to lose the accent. He was afraid it would hurt business. The White's businesses already monopolized the English market when it came to goods from India, and he had already received some dirty looks since he had opened shop. Of course, he found that the market he catered to mostly was the Black Market- the English people would buy their Indian imports from a family they already knew well, and it didn't help that he was French what with England and France's historic rivalries and hatred towards one another. The prejudice was still thick among the citizens. Perhaps he should have gone to India instead and started traveling. It might have been therapeutic for him all in all, but then he remembered why he didn't. It was a long journey, and a full-moon during it would be unavoidable. Being caught on a ship or train in such a state, well, no. It would just end terribly. London was at least safer- the countryside was only a short train ride away, and he could retreat to it within plenty of time. "My apologies," he said, once more, now thinking that he should have significantly disinterested the newcomer. Nobility didn't like it when those beneath them snubbed them. Well, he wouldn't call it snubbing, but he wasn't going to give into this boy's whim for companionship if that was what he had even meant. There was a gleam in his eye, something Sacha was not accustomed to seeing. It made his stomach turn but in a surprisingly good way. No, he wouldn't think on it. He had already dismissed him, now he would just wait for the other to turn his back and leave. A part of him, however, thought that the company was sort of nice... but he couldn't allow himself the luxury of making new friends, especially ones he suspected had an ulterior motive. And besides, how would he look now if he said: 'I've changed my mind?' Ridiculous. His petty pride would keep him from apologizing for his shortness, and he gazed back down at his book. He really was terrible at socializing, wasn't he? He desired friends, yet he never allowed himself to make them, what sort of existence was this? [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[FAUSTUS WILLIAM ALDEN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I WISH YOU FELT THIS WAY. YOU TAKE AWAY THE PAIN. SO TELL ME, DO YOU FEAR THIS? Amusement continued to play over his features as he watched the other's display of exasperation. This was too much fun. The interaction with the other male, in combination with his handsome features made the perfect distraction. Faust must have experienced that intense boredom just so that he would come here and stumble upon this other boy. Fate had a hand in this, some way or another. The thought made the corner of his mouth tilt up; if someone of high society were to walk by, they would either assume that Faustus was conversing with a very good friend, or that he was flirting. The decent gossip mongers would assume the former, while the venomous men and women who had nothing better to do with their time than be jealous of others, would spread rumours of Faust now being in homosexual relationships. He really felt sorry for them, when he didn’t spend his time hating them with almost the same intensity that they hated him. Some simply did not know how to enjoy the time that was given to them, wasting it on trying to make things difficult for others. While Faust was capable of feeling hate, his main concern was keeping himself amused and his family content. Faust wondered if his companion was older or younger than himself, and what his social status was. But he would be patient and find out later. For the time being, he would focus on the other's facial expressions, his mannerisms, the way he composed his sentences. Being a lover of poetry and prose, Faust had always had an appreciation for those who knew how to properly use the English language. If they were able to make they speech sound poetic or rhythmic...even better. Ahh, he'd caused the young man to turn his face up to the sky, as if looking for answers. Perhaps he prayed that Faust would recognize the hint and take his leave, or perhaps he was asking some higher power to instruct him on how to rid himself of Faustus in some other way. Once he'd studied the other's profile sufficiently, the young Marquess' eyes ran down along the column of the other's throat. His mouth went a little dry, and the already dark brown of his irises appeared to deepen. Now he knew the extent of lust that overcame the vampires in his novels, when faced with the sight of a pale neck. When Sacha faced him again, that little smile on his lips, it took Faust a few moments to notice, his eyes having followed the other's neck. And even when his gaze once again met the other male’s, the lusting expression in them did not dissipate. "I would have to disagree." His voice was a hint deeper from before, and he had to clear his throat a little, "You've already proven to be exactly the company I've been looking for." Then he mentally cursed himself for not having noticed the other's accent before. A Frenchman; this was all becoming more and more intriguing by the minute. He'd been brought up with the usual prejudices toward foreigners, especially the French, but while growing into a man, he'd tried to see past this. Faust had never greatly appreciated the structure of British society, especially that of the nobility, therefore it came as no surprise that he would rebel in this aspect, as well. This new information caused a number of questions to nudge at his mind. Why was this Frenchman in London? What circumstances had brought him here? Was he a resident? Was he a tourist? If he was the latter, Faust found himself hoping that Sacha's visit to England was a lengthy one. He was sure that this meeting would not be enough for him; he would seek the other out again. Most certainly. A smile spreaad over his lips at the other's apology, not as charming as before, but a fraction warmer. He would not make it easy for this new acquaintance to be rid of him; oh no. Faust had latched on, and he would not let go until... His mind went into an entirely too pleasant direction, and he had to force it back to the current situation. If he were to get aroused here, there was nothing he could do about it on a park bench. While he didn't approve of society's structure, he also wished to keep his reputation intact-- for the sake of his parents, as well as for his own amusement and well-being. Maybe the other male would be more receptive if they exchanged names? Though this was likely only an excuse on Faust's part to find out the other's identity. "Faustus William Alden is the name." and he offered his hand for the other to shake, slender but strong fingers eager to feel the other's touch. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]833 WORDS FOR FAUSTUS thankfully, my internet decided to stop being a bitch and let me post~ DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] The sentence took him aback, and Sacha's mouth parted as he stared at the other in disbelief. It was obvious as to what the other implied, and never before had Sacha been so obviously solicited. He really didn't know what to do or say in such a situation, especially since it wasn't just anyone who had made that statement! This was someone of wealth, someone of prestiege, someone of the same gender as he! He had to blink a few times in an attempt to recollect his thoughts. All of his plans were thrown out the window with that one statment. He was exactly the kind of company this man had sought out? They didn't know anything about each other! How could he possibly say that?! Sacha knew he wasn't ugly, but he never considered himself very attractive either, maybe because of the scars that covered his body- he had been lucky thus far in succeeding in not damaging his face, but even that would probably fall victim to his rage and outbursts as a monster. Still, the fact remained that this man must just be looking at his face- and he obviously didn't care what sort of attitude Sacha had given him. Perhaps he should try to be nicer for his father's business' sake. "Sacha Antoine Leroux... nice to meet you," he said, albeit hesitantly as he extended his own hand. Compared to Faust's it wasn't very much different- the fingers of his hand were long and slender, as well. But, unlike Fausts, they seemed delicate somehow- as all of his features did. He possessed the qualities of strength, yet turned them into a gentle, almost elegant appearance. He tried to remember where he had heard the name Alden- it was very familiar. He didn't think he'd done business with them before, but perhaps he had came across the name in society's gossip. "Should I address you by title?" Sacha asked after a moment of thought. The name Alden implied that he should have a title, but Sacha did not know what that title was. In France, it was much more simple, really. His family had once been supporters of the royal family during the French Revolution, that was true, and they placed great pride in it. However, the current political environment did not allow for titles- even of those who had kept their heads and some of their fortunes. It was the home he knew, and all of these nobility titles gave him quite the headache. It was far too much to remember- and far too pointless to even try. Even so, he would address a title if requested of him. He wasn't setting out to make enemies, though he wasn't setting out to make friends, either, but he couldn't find himself out of a job and disappoint his father so much. Strangely, he didn't much care about disappointing his mother, but perhaps he had just never been close to her after all that had happened. The cold distance between them was mutually understood and silently agreed upon. He wondered if it might have been different had she really loved him and his father, maybe he would have turned out differently and sought out love. Love. What was it even good for? He started to go with the thought and opened his journal to a blank page where he began to write an eloquent poem of the pains of heartbreak and cynicism. He didn't care if Faustus was sitting beside him or not at the moment. He had become inspired, and he was always afraid of losing a thought before he could write it down- what if it became his best work to date? Glancing over at Faustus and seeing he was still there made him a little uneasy, and he returned to his work with slight hesitation. But what could he do? He couldn't very well tell him to leave, and the other had not taken his hints. Absently, he spoke, though his voice seemed distant and far off as his true attention and focus lay on the page. "I just moved to London. I've opened up a shop on Hallgate street to represent my father's business... We deal in a lot of antiquities and goods from India as well as things that are harder to find and impossible to get by normal means," it was the kind was of saying they dealt on the black market without officially saying it. "I'm from Paris, though, but I grew up in India mostly," he was speaking without thinking as he wrote, just saying wahtever came to mind to keep the other occupied long enough to finish his piece uninterrupted. "It's quite nice there, but I'm enjoying London so far. It has its charm." [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[FAUSTUS WILLIAM ALDEN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I WISH YOU FELT THIS WAY. YOU TAKE AWAY THE PAIN. SO TELL ME, DO YOU FEAR THIS? The other male had obviously not expected Faust to be so upfront, or he hadn't expected the words Faust had uttered. He'd noticed that his companion wasn't dressed quite as richly as himself, but he found that he didn't much care. Even had the other been dressed in rags, but still had that face, that body, that...personality. Well, he'd only seen a glimpse of what the other's peronality could be like. But it all pleased Faust thus far. A benefit to the other being of a lower class was that if this were to go wrong somehow and Stacha decided to spread rumours, or something of the sort, Faust's word was more likely to be taken seriously. It would work to his benefit in this situation, yet he couldn't help thinking of all the times other nobles must have taken advantage of this fact. Most of the nobility really treated the lower classes like dirt. Hadn't they learned anything from the French Revolution? Faust was curious to see what response he would receive from his entertaining distraction. Would he be given a name? Or would he be given nothing but curses? He absently thought that he would have liked to meet this young man somewhere more private. But he'd have likely scared the other off by now if that'd been the case; Faust could barely control himself as it was, and this was only due to their being in such a public place. Ah, a name! And Faust was then allowed to shake the other's hand. The temptation to use this to pull Sacha closer to himself was quite strong. Pull yourself together. Maybe it'd been best if he'd wandered over to Sylph's home and gotten him to join him on a walk in the park. The older male acted like a brother to him, often acting as advisor as well as the voice of reason. And currently...he was in great need of a voice of reason... But perhaps it was best that Sylph hadn't come along. Sacha might have been scared off at the sight of two men, or maybe Faust would have been too entertained by his friend to impulsively take a seat beside Sacha. The Marquess shook the other male's hand, then released it with reluctance. There, some of the temptation was no more. It'd been far more difficult to keep himself in line while touching that almost delicate hand. At least he knew that this boy's fingers weren't rought from labour. His life couldn't be too difficult, at least in that aspect. Faust felt relieved. His title? Faust wondered if Sacha already knew what title to use, or whether that was what he was trying to find out. If the former, Faust found himself prefering to keep some of his identity shrouded in mystery. But then he thought that, if he would initiate contact with Sacha in the future, the other male would likely find out on his own. It was best for Faust to tell him himself. "That's not necessary." The corner of his lips tilted up playfully, "You may omit the Marquess, or Lord, portion of my name when it is the two of us." His tone had become a little more hushed at the end, and he'd leaned in, appearing intimate. Out of nowhere, Sacha opened the book he'd previously snapped closed, and started writing. Faust's brows rose a fraction; had he been dismissed? Or had he been so awe inspiring that Sacha had had to record it all instantly? Curiosity nudged at him to lean closer and see what was being written, but he resisted with some effort. Luckily he was distracted from this new temptation by the other male speaking again, sharing some information about himself. Information that, perhaps unknown to him, would cause him to be stuck with Faust for some time. A shop on Hallgate Street. The young Marquess made a mental note of this, smiling to himself. Ah, so he dealt with items from India; items that the White family might not be able to provide their customers with. Maybe Faust would drop a hint here and there to the right kind if listener. "I have not seen Paris in some years. I've been thinking of visiting again." He became more comfortable on the bench, despite the chill in the air, "In India? What was that like?" Yes, this was definitely the sort of distraction he'd longed for. He'd become tired of empty conversations with no subject matter. Not that this discussion had any purpose or goal at all, but it was clear that Sacha had not a head full of air. With some effort he managed to keep from imagining other ways to waste time with this boy... created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]933 WORDS FOR FAUSTUS hope you like this post!!~ i worked super duper hard on it so it would be awesome JUST FOR YOU. DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] Faust's words only barely managed to register with his preoccupied mind, and it was only after he was done writing that he would give pause and duly contemplate them. Words came forth from his pen- words he could never speak- in such an elegant, refined manner one wouldn't think it to be his speech at all. And yet, there was something so perfectly poised and precise about the poetry. There was something familiar and comforting about it. It was his outlet to speak to the everyone and no one at the same time. He felt as if somehow, his feelings and emotions were somehow more justified when written down. It was pitiful, truly, to have such a low opinion of one's self, but it fueled his art. He supposed there was some truth to the fact a true artist's soul was tortured and dark. Perhaps he just wanted to feel as if there were a reason he had been abused and cursed with such a heinous form... perhaps he wanted to feel like he still had some good left in him. There was still something he could do- and maybe, just maybe- everything had happened to him for a reason. The thought stung deeply, and his pen hovered over the page. The poem had all but written itself, and he stared at it in a daze. If everything had happened to him for a reason, it was a cruel reason indeed. How did religions pretend to know what true salvation and happiness was? How could they lie to the masses and tell them that suffering in this world was important to be happy in the next? How were they able to stand by and watch and millions of innocents were slaughtered and tortured? And of course, he hadn't even begun to think about the corruption in the church with the hidden deals and blind eyes turned. Words began to fill the void of space, and suddenly he remembered that he was in a conversation with someone else. He gazed slowly at the marquess's face and truly took his appearance in. This was a boy with a charming smile, an easy personality, a sheltered life. Could he really blame the other's unintentional arrogance and crudeness on his person, or was it merely ignorance playing a part? Surely, he couldn't see any malice in the other's eyes. To him, this must have been a fun game, something he did for sport. He wondered, briefly, just how experienced this boy was- he seemed to have no fear in trying to pick up another man, though this may have had something to do with his nobility status than his obliviousness. Nobles were quite interesting if one took the time to see them for what they truly were. On one hand, you had the educated ones who really knew what was happening in the world around them, but then you had those who had no responsibility or care in the world- those who only lived in their fantasies and never opened their eyes. Of course, those who did open their eyes would often feign ignorance to protect themselves. He supposed he once did, but no longer. Sacha had been forced to grow up at a very young age. "It is beautiful... although, I cannot say I am looking forward to returning," he never wanted to go back, if he was being honest with himself. He could no longer face his parents, not being who he was- what he was. Tears of rage threatened to fall, but he blinked his eyes a few times and tried to relax. He'd wasted so many countless hours in fits of rage, and he had never lost his composure in public, so he would not allow himself to now. The privacy of his own home was an entirely different matter, but what he did there was none of this boy's concern. He sighed and started to play with his hair, feeling a bit awkward and upset. "I loved being in India... Those were some of the happiest days of my life," he murmured. "It is worth visiting, if you ever have the chance," he had nothing bad to say about it- his family had been happy back then. Then again, France had been ruined with so many terrible memories that could never be erased. It was no surprise that he did not find anything good with the country anymore. "I haven't been in years. My father mostly lives there... I get shipments from him." he explained a little of how the merchant business worked. "But it seems that we won't be selling much of it here. I can understand you already having a family you're loyal to in England- we are French, after all," he laughed, though he did not sound amused. "You can come to us if you are looking for something you can't find anywhere else, though," he said with more attitude than he had intended. It almost sounded as if he were flirting back, and if that was how Faust chose to take it, Sacha couldn't very well argue it because he wasn't sure what his true meaning behind that sentence was, either. This boy... was dangerous for him, and he didn't know if that was a good thing. It made him realize just how vulnerable he was- it had been nice to feel wanted for a moment... and he had gotten lost in that feeling. No,he should leave soon before he did something he regretted. [/style]

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