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 strike the match, strike it now, {Rosis} @Satine
Marcellus Ebanum
 Posted: 09 Mar 16, 20:31
Quote

"THEY HAVE BEEN THROUGH THE FIRE, AND WHAT FIRE DOES NOT DESTROY IT HARDENS."

King of Rosis
male
Satine
25 posts


"I'm burning alive, I can barely breathe."

The king was smiling. There was a slight breeze but the air was warm as a gentle hug about his shoulders, leaving no need for a stately robe while the tunic he had donned seemed to shine in the mid-day light as if it had been embroidered with silken gold. It was the only symbol he had that hinted to his true identity as he careened through the passersby in the marketplace. With all of the spices and aromas wafting through the small space, the king melted into the sea of anonymous faces out seeking the recipes that would concoct their evening meals. There were no personal bodyguards nearby or far off - he had carefully slipped past their gaze and the palace alike after the conclusion of his council meeting that morning. He had learned to sneak out of his own castle fairly quickly after meeting up with his new lover whenever he could had become his new focus in life. Doing so in broad daylight felt a bit like a personal victory, whereas he usually only attempted to slip out of sight during the evening hours. His smile reflected that slight air of smugness at his accomplishment.

He caught sight of a couple of street guards perched at the corner of the main square, eyes scanning the crowd with a bored glaze. They might note his dress and conclude he was a nobleman, perhaps out of place in this area of the lower plaza, but they weren't paying enough attention to recognize the king. Still, Marcellus ducked slightly out of his way into a stall as one of the guard's gaze swiveled his direction. Within, he realized he had found a vendor of flowers and turned his attention to the decorative bouquets peeking out at him, begging to be picked up and carried away. He held out his hand to touch a petal, stained red and white with a swirl of passion at its base. It was a bundle of red and white roses, some solid and some marbled within one another. He pictured handing them to Satine and watching her smile appreciatively. He fancied the idea so well that he took the bouquet in hand and reached into his pocket with the other, flipping a coin to the stall's vendor with a half smile. He was sure the flowers would be just the thing to give her on her one day off from work.

He checked the guards' gaze once more before casually heading back out into the streets, maneuvering out of the marketplace and down the alley ways that led to Satine's smaller dwelling. He looked at the windows as the grew smaller and fewer overhead, and quietly thought to himself that eventually he would have to offer to get his lover out of here. She deserved somewhere prettier to spend her free time, precious as it was. He even went so far as to allow himself the mental image of seeing her nestled into some private room in the palace somewhere - a place she could call her own but still be near him. He looked back at the flowers in hand. Perhaps, he would ask the palace architect to start a royal garden. He could have an entire meadow set aside for roses and waterfalls and then show it to Satine when it was finished. What a beautiful sight that would be, to see her amongst the blossoms and shimmering waters and free of worry about how much time she had before she needed to head back to get ready for work...All their moments felt stolen. He longed to be able to share them freely.

The sound of a muffled crash broke his train of thought and Marcellus' brows crinkled as he approached Satine's door. With a growing sense of foreboding, he realized the sound could only have come from within. With his heartbeat getting harder, he hurried the rest of the way to her door and heard the sound of yelling - but it wasn't her voice. It was a lower tone that sounded very cruel, threatening really. It made his hairs stand on end. If the door hadn't been left slightly ajar, he probably wouldn't have bothered knocking; he strode in and called out, "What's going on?" His eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting after being outside, taking in some of the damaged furniture haphazardly strewn about the main room. That must have been the sound he had heard. He looked into the room further, and figures came into view - he recognized Satine easily, but not the other. It was a man, fairly big in stature, and he looked outright mean. He had turned to see who had interrupted and there was a coldness in his eyes that instantly put Marcellus on guard. He needed to get between the other man and Satine.

As he let go of the flowers on the tabletop beside the entryway, he noted the man's fists and the way they were clenched, how Satine was curled up and her eyes big. He didn't know what she was thinking, but he could imagine what had happened. His expression must have shifted, because the man turned and suddenly seemed to realize there was a new target to worry about. "You'll not touch her again." Marcellus stated bluntly, his voice taking on the edge that it had when he was in battle. It wasn't the king or the lover standing in the doorway now, it was the soldier who fought to defend and protect at all costs. He moved forward without fear.

ooc: kind of short, but hopefully it gives you the right setup! Time for protective Mar. xD

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Satine D. Dereith
 Posted: 09 Aug 16, 15:53
Quote

""That's all right," she says, and I have to wonder how many times she's said that to the people in her life who screwed her over somehow."

waitor
female
in love with marcellus
19 posts


“All she has is flesh and bones, with no soul upon her rocks.“

As much as she had a way with words, she knew there was no way to talk herself out of this situation, and despite her sharp tongue she found herself beaten and broken on the floor, her confidence stolen with a rough hand. One sharp hit to head knocked her into a black out, and the next thing she knew the pain was replaced with soothing waves.

There’s only darkness, and the low baritone of another voice, another person in a world that seems so far away. She feels her head hurt, her temples trembling at every sound, every movement made by the people around her. Softly she sobs, half conscious, her eyes still closed, but her shoulders rocking back and forth with every muffled sound she makes. She feels pathetic, for as far as she can truly comprehend the situation that is. Why did he do this to her? Why did she allow it? Why did he turn her into this blabbering mess of a woman.

Her vision returns when a painful streak of light hits her face, she quietly shrieks and backs into the wall behind her. She feels her throat aching, the bruises on her face burn, she quickly wraps her arms around her knees and covers her pale body with her sheer gown. The fabric seems to have been ripped and torn in certain places, and dark patches of red stain her stomach, she touches her nose to see if she’s bleeding, but she isn’t thankfully. She’s appalled as she sees the dark bruises around her wrist however, she shivers and cowers into the dark shadows.

A striking voice makes her lift her chin, a small fire of hope struck within the deepest of her being. She straightens her back and licks her lips, tasting blood in her mouth. She hears him in the other room, she sees his silhouette through a haze of confusion and pain. Jacob moves in front of her as soon as he sees her move and she wants to step backwards, run away from him, but Marcellus is on the other side and she wants him, she wants him to cradle her and make everything better.

“Marcellus” she quietly speaks, her voice stronger than she had imagined, she gets on her feet and pushes her hair from her face. She wants to tell an elaborate lie; everything is okay, he just came by to pick up his stuff, I just fell down the steps, nothing happened. But her tears are still tainted on her cheeks, and his expression gives away his thoughts.

She inhales and composes herself. “It’s okay, I’m okay” she says, not even believing herself when she hears the words. She steps forward, closely to Jacob now, and as she wants to pass him she can feel his hands around her wrist, tugging her harshly behind him again. She swallows hard and pulls her wrist free, her lashes batted downwards, her eyes almost shut as Jacob pulls her against him by her waist. She’s flat against him as he grabs her chin firmly between his fingers. “Is this what you want?” Satine can hear Jacob say. “A whore?” He chuckles heartless, his chest rumbling with laughter. “If you pay you can have her for the night.”

She pulls her chin free and clutches her jaws together, her lips forced into a thin line.

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Marcellus Ebanum
 Posted: 10 Aug 16, 11:19
Quote

"THEY HAVE BEEN THROUGH THE FIRE, AND WHAT FIRE DOES NOT DESTROY IT HARDENS."

King of Rosis
male
Satine
25 posts


"I'm burning alive, I can barely breathe."

Marcellus felt a surge of anger burning inside of him the longer he processed what was happening. His Satine seemed to come to and try to stand, finding her legs once again and lifting herself up. It was a relief to know she still had the strength to do so, and he instinctively took a few steps forward with the intention of helping her up, ignoring the other man. But he didn't like that at all, and that's when he threw another slap in Satine's face. Marcellus cursed under his breath, knowing that had been his fault; the man just wanted to get his attention and knew threatening more pain to her was the easiest way to gain it. He winced as she crumpled into the wall again, heart-wrenching sounds eliciting forth from her bloodied lip. His stormy eyes narrowed in on the other man, fists clenched and teeth gritting as he controlled himself. "This is no way to treat a woman." he breathed out.

His voice seemed to bring Satine further out of her haze, and he caught her eyes as she said his name and tried to move forward. He wants to rip her out from behind the other man as he moves to hold her back with his large frame, and Mar's fiery eyes burn him with his need to shove him aside. "It's okay, I'm okay." Her voice tells him, but he knows she is anything else. He looks back at her, eyes softer but still stern with the coldness of the truth in front of him. She wants him to believe her, but he can't. Not for her sake. "No, you're not. But, it will be okay soon." He told her softly, his words a double message for the other man to back off. He must have been deaf, because at that he pulled Satine to him suggestively, his unclean hands touching her roughly and without invitation. It made Mar's blood boil and he moved forward again. "Unhand her." He demands, a dangerous edge to his voice now. He was getting close to his breaking point with this ruffian.

"Is this what you want? A whore?" He calls out mockingly, a curdling chuckle following behind his words. Mar's eyebrows furrow in disgust with him. "Don't-" He started to say, but the other man interrupted him further. "If you pay you can have her for the night." He lets it slide past his ears, uncaring. He knew that she had a past, but he had never judged her for it. He wouldn't let this bastard change his mind about that now of all times. He saw her dull expression, the way she tried as hard as she could not to let him keep controlling her as she jerked her face away from his fingers. She was a fighter, even if she didn't believe it all the time. And she didn't deserve this. "You're a worthless coward," Mar called out, attempting to distract him. "Hiding behind someone else with your cheap words rather than facing me." He moved forward again, while the man's guard was down.

He didn't need much, he knew he was more experienced than this man ever could be in hand to hand combat. And Satine was only in his grasp by an arm. It was risky, but he decided to gamble on her knowing to break free once he made his move. "She's too good for you." He stated, watching as it wormed its way into the other man's thoughts and irritated him. That was all he needed; Marcellus struck with the speed of a viper, his fist making contact with the man's gut in a flash so that he crumpled forward at the impact, shakily releasing his grip on Satine. Marcellus waited a few more moments to give her a chance to wriggle away from him, and then he sent his other fist curling up into the man's nose, half hoping he might break it. The man recoiled backwards and Marcellus knew he had a few moments before any retaliation, if there would be one, would come. He glanced at Satine, his expression still focused and contained. He noted the blood on her ripped gown and pushed the details aside. "Get behind me, Satine." He beckoned to her with one of his hands, hoping she would take it and let him pull her to safety and out of reach of the monster in front of him.

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Satine D. Dereith
 Posted: 20 Aug 16, 05:36
Quote

""That's all right," she says, and I have to wonder how many times she's said that to the people in her life who screwed her over somehow."

waitor
female
in love with marcellus
19 posts


“All she has is flesh and bones, with no soul upon her rocks.“

Her head is spinning, her ears ringing, she feels as if she's about to throw up. How did this happen, how could it have come to this? Why did she allow herself a shot at a normal life? Eventually life would just knock her back down anyway. Perhaps she wasn't worth much more than they all made her believe. It seemed too good to be true anyway, why would she deserve happiness?

Jacob doesn't loosen his grip, his meaty fingers are tightly pressed into her waist. It was only months ago that his touch made her feel butterflies, his smile caused her to laugh. It always started out this way, happy and careless, drunk on love. But at some point she wasn't beautiful enough, not needy enough, not the girl they want. Never the girl they want.
At one point she had loved him, or so she had thought, and it wrecked her when she realized he was just like the rest. The first time he got angry she had misplaced his keys and he had berated her, scolded her. He had thrown her across the room, like she was his personal doll, they all seemed to think that. The sad part is that she calmed him down by taking him to bed. It however didn't stop him from hurting her, it never did.

She dispises him, his vulgar mouth, his pathetic face, that half grin. She pulls away from him, making more space between them. Hoping, longing that Marcellus beats him to a pulp.

She inhales deeply, listens as Mar tells Jacob he isn't worthy of her. It makes her smile involuntarily, she just can't help it. That's what he does to her, butterflies and sleepless nights. It doesn't even matter that she's all bloody and broken, she looks at him through the haze and starts to cry softly. Tears slowly forming in her eyes, tainting her freckled cheeks.

It only takes Marcellus some words as a distraction, he finds a way in and throws his fists into Jacob's stomach. The man falls forwards, grabbing his intestines, letting go of his grip on her. Satine pulls herself free, she grabs Marcellus hand and is pulled behind him. She wants to move into his embrace, clasp her arms tightly around him, but he has stepped forward. Raining down punches on Jacob, painting the center of his face a bright red. Blood streams down his face, drips off his chin unto the floor. She wants to spit in his face but remains as graceful as she can.

Softly she touches Marcellus his arms, her slender fingers gently on his tanned skin. "I'm okay now, truly." She mutters.

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Marcellus Ebanum
 Posted: 05 Oct 16, 13:54
Quote

"THEY HAVE BEEN THROUGH THE FIRE, AND WHAT FIRE DOES NOT DESTROY IT HARDENS."

King of Rosis
male
Satine
25 posts


"I'm burning alive, I can barely breathe."

Once she was safely tucked away behind him and he knew he stood between her the threat, Marcellus visibly relaxed by a noticeable degree. His shoulders relaxed, his face took on the hardened expression of one who knew what to do and only had to get on with it, the risks and calculations already taken care of. He wanted to immediately be able to pull Satine into a gentle embrace and hold her until she realized she was safe, but he couldn't yet. His eyes had only briefly left the other's man figure to watch as Satine darted away from him, but now he was trained on the other man again. He strode forward to the writhing husk, ready to beat him close to senselessness.


The first few punches were loud, stark and cringeworthy to hear. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this display of how harsh he could be would scare Satine away. He didn't like this side of himself, it haunted him at night if he was honest about it. But, he knew there was only one way to ensure this man never came sniffing around her door again, trying to mess with her. And that was to get the point across as clearly as possible that the next time - he would die. Bloodied and broken, his nose a mess that probably would make it hurt just to breathe, Marcellus lightened up on his beating and stopped. The man had had enough, not even trying to fight back anymore and only holding his arms up in a meek defense. Marcellus grabbed the man's tattered shirt and hauled him up, marching him towards the door before pulling it wide open and shoving him out, down the stairs. The man stumbled and fell onto his knees, making pathetic noises the whole way down. "Don't ever come back here. I'll know if you do." He said firmly. And he would. There would be guards posted on the corners from now on and he wasn't going to have anyone argue with him about that fact.


The man whimpered, didn't reply, and tried to run off as best as he could. Marcellus watched until he was out of sight, collecting his mind and calming his wrath. He could have killed that man, but he had managed to keep control. Finally, he turned again and saw Satine slumped in defeat, the tear stains on her cheeks painfully obvious. He said her name and walked over, a different creature entirely now with soft arms and a gentle, soothing tone that one would never guess could be as intimidating as it had been moments before. "I'm here."This side of him was hers now, he realized, hers alone. He reached her and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and her waist, trying not to squeeze too tightly for fear of irritating her fresh scrapes and bruises. He hated this. He couldn't stand the idea of her being battered. In the past, now, or ever again. He uttered sweet words of comfort to her until her sobs subsided a bit, and then he kissed the top of her head, lips upon her hair, and said, "Let me get you cleaned up."


He moved her so she could sit in the only chair left unharmed in the small apartment, and disappeared into her washroom to retrieve what he needed. He returned with a dampened hand towel, warm water soaking it, and began the task of wiping away the blood upon her arms and legs that had spilled down. He rested on his knees as he worked on her with the most tender of hands, gentle caresses and eyes furrowed in concentration. The silence was soothing, and he hoped she knew he was not judging her for this at all. He just wanted her to be better again. He moved up, eyes finding hers as he lifted the towel to her bloodied lip, and he pressed it there lightly to absorb the trickling. His eyes were soft with concern and hurt as he looked up at her. "What happened?" He asked at last.

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Satine D. Dereith
 Posted: 03 Jul 17, 04:56
Quote

""That's all right," she says, and I have to wonder how many times she's said that to the people in her life who screwed her over somehow."

waitor
female
in love with marcellus
19 posts


“All she has is flesh and bones, with no soul upon her rocks.“

Slumped in the corner she tries to wipe away her tears, collect herself and make sure Marcellus doesn't see this pathetic puddle of a human. Showing weakness isn't something that she's comfortable with, it's a daily struggle for her to be ruthless and still satisfy her need for love. Her entire vision of the world has been corrupted from an early age and she knows no other way than to hide her monstrosities and portray this kind and pretty woman that she obviously isn't. Deep down she knows Marcellus had already seen too much, knew too much, there's no reason to keep up appearances. No reason to keep playing the role of a woman she'll never be, like the blonde woman at the gala, with her neat bloodline and taught etiquettes. She'll never be good enough for him and she's painfully aware of that fact.

Her heart aches at the thought of losing him to someone prettier and a better fit for a King, a noble woman to become his wife who stands beside him with all her knowledge. Satine isn't born here, she doesn't know about the lore or politics, she has nothing to offer him. Nothing besides her body and soul. She's afraid to become the other woman, the one he lures into his bed at midnight while his blonde wife tucks in their heirs. She's scared and anxious and doesn't understand why he's here taking care of her while many eligible princesses are back at his castle.

She doesn't allow herself to think that he might actually care for her, that's a one way street to self-destruction and she doesn't want to play that game.

The sound of his fists beating down on Jacob's face bring her back from her slumber. She swallows the iron taste in her mouth and tries to sit up as Marcellus throws her ex-lover down the stairs. Her lips manage to show a little smile when he comes back into her tiny apartment, thankful for him her tears continue to stream down her cheeks. She mouths a soft "Thank you" but barely a whisper leaves her lips. Her body feels bruised and broken and even though she's felt it so many times before, it never becomes less painful. He walks towards her and embraces her in soft arms and gentle soothing words and she let go of all her fears and falls limp in his embrace.

Her mind is no longer looking for excuses, for ways to reject him before he rejects her. No, she makes peace with him being her and will enjoy him for as long as it lasts.

She sits still as he tends to her wounds, her hands softly against the skin of his chest, her eyes tired and slowly closing. Her bloodied dress now on the floor for him to access her wounds, her body bare and naked in the moonlight falling through the window. His hands feel rough but tender, his skin worn and beaten by hard work but his touch so soft and gentle that it makes her weep. Her energy is slowly draining and she falls limp against him, the naked of her torso seeking warmth in his embrace. He raises his hand to touch her bloodied lip with the damp towel. Her closed eyelids tremble at the hint of pain.

She rolls her head on his shoulder and opens her eyes to look at the concern on his face. "What happened?" He asks at last and she swallows, still tasting the blood on her tongue. "He thought I was his property, and he didn't want to share..-" she looks up "-with you." Her voice is barely a whimper, almost overwhelmed by the sound of the wind. "But I'm all yours, for as long as you'll have me." Her slender fingers caress the nape of his neck and she leans forward to kiss him softly on his lips. No longer embarrassed but perfectly content here with him in the dark of the night.

Softly, with the meagre strength she has left in her, she pulls him towards her and lies back on the bed. Wanting to thank him but knowing no other way she bites through her pain and pulls him into a passionate kiss.
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