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Wavers of Reality — [& Journal]

Ethoxyethane

Super-Earth
Joined
Feb 24, 2015
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Wavers of Reality



Firstly, welcome!
Secondly, Do people even read this kind of stuff?
And thirdly, Often I've considered writing a journal, only to never get around to it. Always something getting in the way that influenced me to think I did not have the time. When I was younger I used to write passionately and doddle in notebook after black and white composition notebook. Today is the day I begin again, at a conservative pace and content. I have a cautious streak that enforces me to keep to myself, but I need to work on expressing myself and will view this to be a good and fun activity, keeping a large majority of entries and posts in my personal journal though. I am generally a private person and the internet identity blanket does not much change that. I will use this online journal thread to rant, post randomness, and inform BMR of my upcoming absences or delayed responses.



Comments are kewl.



Delays: — Updated: 2/4/16/color]
- I'm getting back into things, loveies.

Absences:

- null







RPs

(E-mail, Private Message, and other website RPs are not listed.)

(Writing samples and a RP)




(Writing samples can be found in my third post, posted below the ideas.)




-Disasterpiece - with Reydan - [Taboo/Extreme] - Inactive

-Killers Affair - with Death by orgasm - [Taboo/Extreme] - Inactive

-F**k - with Victorian_Virtue - [Taboo] - Termination requested due to (informed) delayed post response.

 
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RE: Wavers of Reality

Yes, actually. Violent anal rape. My mind is still recovering from the trauma. Much similar to this definition.

I figure by finals all fucks given are dead and instead they employ a tree trunk, bark and all. I'm not a lazy student, but tests are always... rough! Whew, that was a bad pun joke, but I had to get it out. :D
 
RE: Wavers of Reality

I think my downstairs neighbor wants to become a bird. Or at the very least turn his balcony into a bird's nest. His balcony is decorated with bird feeders, plants, and recently a cutout board of a lion and a bird. For the past year I've heard him exchange whistling to the birds in their own language, and through my floors of his ceiling I swear I can hear him flapping his arms to music. Sometimes I catch him trying to coax my cat from the balcony by (oh shit, here he is as I write this. Ha. He's doing it right now and reeling me in conversation.) pretending to be a bird, though it's only a playful performance. I think. Yesterday he stopped a lady carrying two large boxes to the trash compactor and inquired about the larger box, which he took. I'm not sure what he plans to do with it, though if I had to guess he has plans to make his own nest.

Good for him.
 
Not a lot of things can make the muscles in my face go slack. I am not a person to shock easily. But the things I learned last night made me perfectly sick. Currently, there is no way my mind could dare allow me to articulate it. Even if I wanted to.
 
April Fools Day is approaching an end, and thankfully I was only pranked once. It was instinctive more than anything because my friend read it online when we just so happened to initiate a phone call. He said he just got out of rehab, and when I asked him what for, he said he was addicted to soap. I laughed, it was amusing, he got me back.

As for what I did, well, I'll start off with mentioning that my "new years resolution" was maybe be less of a shithead?, which I failed within a minute of the decision. Today I sent people 'I miss you' texts, full well acknowledging that at least one person would get their feelings bruised. That prank fashioned me from the opposite of my resolution and into even more of shithead. Hi, my name is Brittany and I'm a shithead.

Back to the phone call, my spirits were lifted. We are very similar regarding beliefs and morals, and he underwent the whole medical track, recently he graduated with his doctorate. So he is the only one I know that can sympathize what I am experiencing. The last semester was horribly stressful for me, and this semester I bit off more than I can chew. The prolonged stress edged me to burnout and there was a period of time when I felt nothing, not sad and not happy. The words of encouragement were exactly what I needed. I appreciate him as a human being. I need to make an effort to schedule more phone calls and must remember to drive out to visit him when I visit home this summer.
 
The single most important thing today: Rest In Peace Eric. It's been just over a year since you were conquered by life and ultimately by yourself. Your demise has affected me and other people gravely. The last thing we needed is to lose another good person, but you had troubles, and I hope you had whatever release you were looking for. You are missed. <3

In other news, my complex is painting the buildings two colors that are unappealing to the other, and independently, both barn born colors; slate navy blue and chocolate milk brown. I hope dearly the plan is not to leave the hydrated piss yellow on various peeks of the building like they have done with two of the repainted buildings already. Fuck. I have evident suspicions my building is going to be the barn-boy blue. This is supposed to be the high end area, but at this rate they might as well dye the pool a swamp green. I'll extract some gators from the zoo to match. And slap a bunny tail on my ass and start calling myself Fluffy. In the next two weeks the aesthetics will be better, I'm positive, t'is only venting worries because that's all they are, trifles, needed to dump from my mind.

In the better news, I found a great Youtube music collection of classical pieces: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLkjMLdLf3s
22:59 - Carlos Gardel - Por una cabeza
30:03 - Dmitri Shostakovich - Waltz no 2
33:52 - Eugen Doga - Grammofon
^ I can run non-stop on incline to those three songs consecutively, like I'm running towards a destination where it's possible to sail a boat into outer-space.

I'll start responding to my role plays tomorrow.
 
Me:

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Well, sometimes. Actually, I'm mostly engrossed with a sting of seriousness that apparently urge people to ask me "what's wrong?" I respond, "Just had my thoughts interrupted."
 
After numerous encounters over the past year I finally spent some time with my downstairs neighbor, the bird-lover I posted an entry about, and had a glass of wine outside on a building bench. Of course, when I first encountered him outside of his apartment door he was carrying a bird house the size of a fire hydrant, (I shit you not) and our other neighbors approached their door and like a cue Birdman and them broke off in conversation in the topic of birds! From my gathering, he had been hanging up these large bird houses in the tress at the complex, even the ones far back that dot the horizon, and the property manger got a gash on her nose from a bird house that fell on her. I also learned that neither of the parties are fond of the property manger and Birdman said in addition, he received a warning for throwing bread off his balcony. I got a quick peek inside his house, it looked like a nest, clutter weaved everywhere, like twigs in a bird's nest.

I've officially tried every flavor that Synergy Organic & Raw Kombucha has to offer. If there are any other health nuts out there that seek reviews, reach out.
 
This morning has been the usual: little sleep, on the verge of turning off my phone alarm clock that forces me to solve unearthly math problems to silence it, and convincing myself to go to my ass crack of dawn class.
Also: my suspicions tell me that my hoe-ass cat is trying to kill me. I've been waking up to the love of his fur smothering me. If I suddenly vanish, you know why. He would have succeeded.
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- Hoe-ass cat trying to kill me.



I will be responding to all RPs in waiting today. :)
 
***This might offend you if you are a 'men-ist', do not read.***

Here's a morsel of enlightenment for trying to figure out the opposite sex, the problem births from the act of trying to figure out men as men and women as women. The solution is simply to treat one as what they are: a human being.

That being said, this guy I'm dating- I mean, was, was dating interviewed me, small talk, which I strongly dislike. He probed me seeking approval, or thought that it would influence me to believe the bullshit that stained his mouth regarding, mostly, men and women. The things he said did not help his chances, it were things that obtained my understanding. I'm very understanding. There were multiple previous concerns I had about him during other dates, then when this was one thing was said instantly killed any chance he had with me: "[...]guys don't care what comes out of your mouth[...]" the context was generalized to all males think that of all females, and probably thought it would make me feel "secure"- 'cause that's what women are good for, looking pretty like a doll, right? Clearly, he thought these profound thoughts would- the positive thinking concept- impress me. I was anything but. At one point I swear I rolled my eyes right out of my head, and he must of thought I did for his entertainment or something because he seemed pleased with the development. I near accepted his 'challenge', to prove him wrong, but I yield to hurt his feelings and ego (and I knew refraining from proving him wrong would bother him more, plus I was considerate regarding my lack of knowledge of his mental health, such as depression, who knows, see, I'm not an asshole... then again the worst thing I could do is just end any 'conversation' and stop responding- lack of stimulation.), and instead I projected a few snark comments, and that must have gave him the same impression as the eye roll since he reacted in a mirrored fashion. Then I was polite and nodded, muted him out, which usually gives the unintentional illusion of hopefulness for anyone. Until... I screen his calls for the next day. But that's what he gets for boring me to death, right?

I know that he was not taught any better. But I have little respect for such attitudes, and will still politely inform him that I am not interested. I would explain to him why, when he asks, because I know he will, but he is the type to only ask why as means of an invitation to debase my reasoning rather than constructively endure it.

It's disappointing. We had a couple rarities in common. If no respect is given for the larger differences with someone, it tends to fail. At least it solidified that just because someone eats the same health products that you do, doesn't mean they're the one. I hope we will still be friends and drink raw milk together.


-Watch me start dating him again. I do this kind of stuff to myself sometimes. Tsk, tsk. Nah, I know better than to officially go for someone superficial. I'll just want to engage in confrontation again, because sometimes it's fun.
 
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I've been away working at the studio for a good half of the week. Did some exciting stuff and nursed preexisting collaborations, though in truth the time it takes to do such things could make a hindrance of my time. All balances of rational, I've learned. Plus the clever minds of my work partners help wonders to propel ideas to where we want them pinned through the growth of our wordy inputs.

At the gym, anytime someone watches me do the open and close leg machine I put a water bottle in my workout pants, shapely with purpose at my crotch, and smile nastily. I care not who notices, good, please, everyone look at the water bottle in my pants and get uncomfortable. Though... I do think one liked it quite a bit.

I'll be responding to RPs over the next handful of days, again sorry for the delay.
 
The past few days have been exceptionally strange. Mostly:
Tonight, in bed, I woke to ruckus on my balcony. Someone must have climbed up to it(on the third floor, the top floor), put loose m&ms, a sealed miniature sausage, and a pack of string/rope on the floor.
Yesterday, I found two alien yellow sponges on my balcony.
The day before that, I found a single men's tattered brown shoe and a empty plastic jug of orange juice, and my cat's outdoor dishes were missing.

I do not have roommates, I do not drink orange juice, and I do not eat that food.

Naturally, little me goes outside, past midnight, play detective and intuitively investigate, in search of the positioning of any candy trails. I win.
 
Designed for Punishment
This active RP is inspired by the Freezing (season 1) / Freezing Vibrations (season 2) Anime series. The RP is set before Satellizer became a highly skilled Pandora at West Genetics who is to be known as the ruthless Untouchable Queen. It focuses on the incestuous relationship between Louis and Satellizer (called Stella in the RP) when Stella and her mother moved into L. Bridget mansion due to the mother's illness. However, her new half brother, Louis, mistreatments her and it turns into sexual abuse and Satellizer was young and forced to endure it as her mother was terminally ill and did not want their family situation to worsen. Her brother is the only one who has this submission affect on her.
Due to the abuse she suffered she hates being touched and freaks out and gets cruel whenever someone touches her and it's how she earns the title of the Untouchable Queen.
My partner and me plan on playing out the second half of the story as well, when Stella returns home for visit and sees her brother after all these years. This RP is reasonably detailed and dramatic (in the senses aspect) to really bring it to life. I play the lead female role, Stella.

Part 1 (part 2 in next post)]


Stella Alongrutch-El’Bridget was a product of an affair. And an affair was all it ever was. It had been decidedly agreed from her birth that Noelle Alongrutch, the mother of the child and mistress of Howard El’Bridget would take full custody. Growing up, Stella had not been fortunate to have any other family members aside from her mother, even to get better acquainted with her father had not happened. She imagined he had been humble when he admitted to responsibilities of other duties. But all this was about to change. For all the countless days and years that she had been shielded from the father’s side of her family was about to bring her the shocks of all that had been missing. The mother and daughter were being moved into the L. Bridget's mansion under Howard's will due to the reason that she was suffering from a critical illness. Noelle did not hail from wealth and could no longer bear the burden of working, so regardless the subtle apprehension to accept Howard’s offer because of his lawful wife she graciously accepted having no other place to turn.

The El’Bridget family was of high nobility and prestige, rich with business holdings across the globe. It was also one of the movers-and-shakers behind the Chevalier organization. It was an elite military organization. The Chevalier had worldwide influence, shown when they were able to tarnish the opposing side’s reputation of Mably Cooperation. The organization was very concerned with public approval and support, to the point they will spend large sums of money and man power to appease the public's concerns. The El'Bridget family had been deeply involved in the Chevalier since its founding.

For the past hour the divots on the road aided in the shaking nervousness of Stella in the back seat of a spotless stretched black limo. She had been quiet, sometimes restlessly fidgeting with the ends of her breast-length golden locks, or even giving the impression of a weak attempt at a nap. Her mother sat across her with the dulled mousy brown hair suffocated against a tinted window, seeming to be in another place every time she coughed. Stella paused in her mess of self to steal concerned glances.

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Upon the slowing of the vibrating vehicle that reached a towered iron gate between equally tall stone slabs that surrounded a property, finally, Stella broke the extended silence, “Mother, I’m still terribly nervous.”

“Everything is going to be okay.” A weak smile crept on her lips; it went with the tone of her voice. “There is nothing to worry about, Stella dear. Once we’ve settled in the castle your nerves will pass. You are strong. There will be your sister and brother, Violet and Louis to keep you company. Louis is only about three or four years older than you, twenty or twenty-one, close to your age. I’m sure he’d like to show you around. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

“But.. but why can we not stay with a friend, or someplace closer to home?” There was urgency in her voice as if what she spoke was tangible, though she knew it was not and suddenly felt the need to address the pointless questions that she had kept suppressed for the sake of her mother’s health.

“No one has that kind of time and space for an ill woman and her daughter.” Noelle spoke in assuring whispers. Her dry lips cracking open past what they were accustom to when she proceeded, as though the speaking of her illness upset her, “Can you not just adjust to the situation? Please. Stella. I am ill and is the place we have to go!”

Without clarity of breath, “I’m sorry!” bellowed from Stella’s full lips, now turning into a thin straight line startled by the turmoil she had caused her weak mother.

There was no reason that the distance between the two families’ played any role for their presence into the household, for which she had no such records weather they would be accepted or treated as rejects. She should just assume that among these people were just the same and equal to her as human being, servant or El’Bridget member. Then she could probably emit a more friendly and interesting nature when the family were to meet her. But she had this annoying habit of shyly interacting with people she just met.

The car had stopped, the driver clicked the sliver door handle and the back door opened for them. There was no inquiring interest to see what was outside, but she looked hopefully to her mother for the strength to leave the car and climbed out with a sigh.

Stella was clad in a fashionable above the knee navy blue skirt, pristine white short sleeved shirt with a sweet-heart necklace that barely revealed her cleavage; it penciled the top of that creamy flesh. On her feet were simple black ballet style flats. Her blonde hair kept peeled from her pretty heart-shaped face, behind her ears.

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With the whine of the engine dying behind them, Stella stood on the alien land and gazed upon the large, intimidating castle encompassed by a ocean of glistening sea in front of her. Multiple slate stone towers elevated towards the sky that mimicked the wrought iron gates that first welcomed them onto the property. The anxiety in her eyes belied the tight smile she displayed for her mother who approached her side with a comforting hand caressing her back.


She assured herself of her mother’s words as they ascend up wide, shallow steps leading to the twenty foot ceiling height doors ajar. Thankfully no figures broke out of the opening. At first this gave her an unwinding ease of the mind, but when they reached the top still to see no member of the El Bridget to warmly greet them at the front of the door but one man, a servant attired in a clean, black suit, this fueled the worry within her wondering thoughts. This too took her mother by an almost expected astonishment.

There seemed to be a force field at the threshold of the door acting as a means to ward them off. Guided by Noelle, they instantaneously broke past it and entered the strange mansion toward the politely servant waving them over. Stella was not sure if her mother felt it, she was uncertain if she had even felt it; the resistance that cut through her being. One that was rewriting the code of her future.





"Sir?"

The young servant girl's voice broke slightly as she called out, the word coming out hesitantly, as if she didn't really want to be heard. She stood in the door to the master bedroom of the west wing of the massive household, the mahogany door only slightly ajar so she could peek her head in. She was a young girl, barely past her teens, short red hair hanging like two curtains around a youthful, wide-eyed face as she peered into the room, taking in the sheer size of it, and the luxurious furniture and art which adorned it.

In public, the young master was always smiling and treating everyone cordially, so the trepidation of the maid might have seemed completely unfounded for the uninitiated, as the son of Howard and Olivia El'Bridget was considered to be a very pleasant young man to be around, both in formal events and during meals at the mansion. However, in the servant halls and sleeping quarters nervous whispers were exchanged between the female servants of the household, with flickering, frightened eyes and hushed voices, over the true nature of the blonde-haired, twenty year old son. Rumours and gossip, never really tangible or proven, circulated among the women who kept the mansion running, that Louis El'Bridget was a completely different man behind closed doors, and that anyone who stirred his ire would quickly come to regret it.

"S-sir?" the young girl tried again, louder this time, though her wide emerald eyes, tinted with a hint of frightened moisture, made it obvious she would rather have been anywhere else at the moment. Why did it have to be her who was tasked with going to the young master's bedroom? She was one of the new girls to have come to the mansion just recently, and the older girls had dumped this task on her, knowing that going to the private quarters of the young man was truly to play with fire. A quiet whimper left her lips as she shuffled into the room, gazing around with wide eyes, like a deer which expected to be attacked and mauled to death at any given moment.

"Yes?" came a calm, patient voice from the opposite end of the room, and the poor young girl almost jumped in the air, terrified emerald eyes swinging in the direction the voice had come from. A moment later, a warm blush spread rapidly over her pale cheeks, and she hastily withdrew her eyes. The voice had originated from the adjoining bathroom attached to the master bedroom, and now the owner of the masculine tone had appeared in the door, dressed in nothing more than a soft, white towel and a questioning gaze, directed at the girl who now bashfully turned her green orbs away, suddenly finding the soft carpet much more interesting. "I...I'm...I'm sorry, Master Louis... I did...I didn't intend to intrude..." she whimpered, tears of terror welling up in her eyes as she trembled under the scrutinizing gaze of the young El'Bridget.

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Louis El'Bridget regarded her calmly, watching as the young maid stared pointedly into the ground at her feet, hands fidgeting nervously before her. He was a quite attractive young man, with short blonde hair and a friendly-looking visage, a small smile on his lips as he regarded her with chestnut eyes. Then, he walked slowly over to the large wooden wardrobe, and opened it. A soft thump sounded, audible to the young girl even across the distance of the spacious bedroom, and with a sudden widening of her emerald orbs she realised that the young noble had dropped his towel. She didn't dare move, didn't dare to lift her gaze, didn't dare to do anything but remain frozen in place, staring straight at the floor beneath her clean, black shoes.

"What did you come to tell me?" the man asked her, his voice having that terrifying quality that made it sound both sincere and welcoming, but also bringing to mind the sensation of having a razor dragged gently over the skin of your throat, a hint of danger lying just beneath the surface, unseen but still there. The girl trembled, licked her lips and found them void of moisture, and then spoke, her voice barely audible. "Mrs... Mrs. Alongrutch and..and her daughter, Stella Alongrutch ....El'Bridget have just arrived, Master Louis," she said, still not brave enough to raise her eyes as she spoke, hearing soft sounds coming from the proximity of the wardrobe, suggesting that the blonde man was getting dressed.

Over by the wardrobe, there was a pause. Louis was staring straight ahead, his mind reminiscing, remembering a beautiful face coaxed out from the recesses of his mind by the mentioning of the name. He remembered the name Alongrutch, the name his beloved mother had angrily imprinted into his mind. It was the name of his father's affair, a woman of common birth, and Louis couldn't believe that woman had the audacity to give her bastard daughter the El'Bridget family name. He had to hate her. She was a bastard child, who sullied the name of his family with her mere existence, and his mother had insisted that even if his father wanted the woman to be here, Louis shouldn't accept it, and should do anything in his power to show the girl that her kind was not welcome in their world.

"Thank you," he said, and the young maid finally lifted her wide, emerald orbs as the sound of foot steps approached her. Louis stood before her, and the smile on his face almost comforted the fears that still gripped her heart. Almost. However, her stomach tightened into a knot as she looked at his chestnut eyes, and realised there was no warmth there, only a frightening, stony cold. The girl quickly lowered her eyes once more, suddenly more terrified of her master than she ever thought possible.

Leaving the trembling girl behind, Louis walked out of the master bedroom, and made his way towards the entrance of the mansion. When one entered the large household, one would ascend the wide stairs and then enter a large, open entrance hall, where three large staircases met in an elevated dais. Each staircase led to a different wing of the mansion, the steps were covered in rich, red carpets, and above the dais hung a massive chandelier, the lowest-hanging crystal still suspended five times taller than Stella's own height above the rich carpets. The room was opulently decorated, exquisite paintings lining the walls, and the stone railings of each staircase was intricately carved.

As Stella and her mother were showed into the entrance hall, Louis stood at the top of the left-hand staircase, leaning against the stone railing, watching with interest as the two ladies entered the extravagant mansion of the El'Bridget. His eyes immediately found the young, blonde woman with the blue eyes, and his heart began beating rapidly in his chest. She was stunning, gorgeous. His father had sometimes mentioned the illegimate daughter he had, and she had become a beautiful young woman, but she was still beyond what Louis had expected. Her long, beautiful, blonde hair, her sapphire eyes, she was undoubtedly his sister with such beauty... No! he told himself, withdrawing from that train of thought. He had to hate her, his mother had told him so. Yet... She was only here because of his father's soft heart, but Louis couldn't help but suddenly be happy at her presence at the mansion... Louis remained standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing and smiling softly to himself, wondering how long it would take for her to notice him, and what kind of expression would spread over her beautiful visage.





“Good evening, ladies. My name is Martin and I’ve been sent to escort you both to each of your chambers to where you shall be staying.” Out of a courteous manner, the Butler, Martin, welcomingly expanded his arms paired with a wide and tight smile. Though he did not bare teeth and he did not bow.

Stella stopped to cycle her head with interest to scope out the innovate interior of the El’ Bridget mansion. She almost could not believe that she was going to be living, let alone had bear the hyphened precious last name of El’ Bridget, in such a place that people had spoken so feverishly about. In this nervous realization it struck her she should not be so hesitant of her father’s gracious offer to allow her and her mother to stay. Yet for some reason the impression that they were not welcomed here mewled in the core of her chest. It had to be too good to be true. The thought rolled over her again with an incline of her chin, the towering walls drawing her sparkling blue orbs to the immaculate crown molding and dazzling chandlers that were large enough not to curb the impressive size of the main room. Eye level was impressive enough, but a whole other world was lurking with attention to detail was above.

A whole other world it was. Seeming to emerge from the shadows was a tall, built figure accompanied by arrogance. Stella’s eye timidly froze at the figure with strikingly similar features as herself and of who she only thought could be Louis El’ Bridget, her brother. He was at once intimidating. Her face went innocently doll-like, her heart had ceased beating, swelled into a lump in her throat and the lack of breathing drained her to ghastly shades of pale. After a moment, she attempted to dry swallow it back to place before her lips parted and she sharply inhaled.

She had not anticipated seeing a member of the family, today at least, after none had been there to initially greet them. In fact, she doubted it would be very likely that any of them would be paying any bit of attention to them. Wait, had he noticed her see him? Oh god, she wanted to pretend as if their identical shaped eyes never locked. And she hastily whipped her head away, as if that did not just happen. As if she failed to notice the observer atop the staircase. But that wouldn’t do, no, she knew as well as he did that there was some sort of unspoken contact between them. She had to acknowledge it.

From the outside perspective, their locking glance was less complex than this and could be presumed as a young girl that had flicked her eyes away from something that made her meek.

“Mom?” Stella breathlessly consulted and rushed to her mother’s side.

The butler and Noelle both shifted their attention to Stella. There was nothing else spoken, but from the decline of her face Noelle could only detect that she had encountered a family member of the house hold. And the butler must have known too. In unison the two scanned the room before settling on Louis. Stella did not look.

Martin chimed in first, “Master Louis, what a pleasure to acquaint us in your presence. Have you been informed of the expected arrival of the Alongrutch’s today?” Martin bowed deeply with utmost respect. “This is… uh..” This hesitation had him gesturing to direct Noelle to finish his sentence, obviously not pertaining knowledge of their first names. Partly exaggerating his lack of knowledge to please Louis on the account that his mother, Olivia El' Bridget had resentment for the two guests, and speculated that he had as well.

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This disposition did not bother Noelle, she had enough to worry about other than the tedious fret of people who may very well not have a liking towards her know her first name. She only smiled as bright and sincere as her ill appearance would allow. “Noelle. My name is Noelle. And this is my daughter, Stella.” She almost forcibly nudged Stella in a direction that was not hiding beside her, who nervously took a small, single step forward. “You must be Louis. It’s so nice to meet you. Howard has told me great things about you.” Paused, peered expectedly at Stella to speak. "Honestly, don't be so shy, Stella." She encouraged.

A writhing, pulsing motion encapsulated Stella's heart that screamed from within as it released a burst of power. She had never experienced this escalation of nerves before. She had also never been lodged in this sort of situation before either, and she accepted what was stirring with in as something organic that would pass and hopefully she could laugh back at this later, finding some silly humor in herself. "...Stella..." She introduced, kept her head and eyes at a drop. To serve as a form of protection she lifted her right hand to ball up between her collar bones, her skinny wrist accented her morsel of cleavage.




Louis stayed unmoving at the top of the staircase, hands resting upon the intricately carved marble of the railing, making no effort of drawing attention to himself. Instead, he much prefered to watch from the shadow of the large drapes that hung around the door behind him, which lead into the west wing of the mansion. The staircase which he stood at the top of seemed to curve in towards the center of the room, converging right in front of the two women and the butler along with the lower steps of the other two staircases. Speaking of the two women, the butler was doing an admirable job of welcoming them without making them feel too welcome and without drawing attention to the fact that he was not as courteous as he perhaps could have been.

Still, the older woman did not seem to mind, while the younger lady's eyes seemed to wander over the room around her, as if she could hardly believe the luxurious decor of the El'Bridget mansion, which Louis certainly suspected was more extravagant than what she could possibly have been used to. He remained standing as if like a statue as solid as the marble he was leaning against, a slight, confident smile of expectation on his face, as he waited patiently for her to notice him. He could almost follow her gaze as it moved around, before, at long last, it settled on him, and he enjoyed the mixture of emotions that he could see playing across her beautiful features.

Most of all, he truly enjoyed the way her facial expression reminded him of a doe caught in the headlights. She stiffened, beautiful eyes widening, and he could almost see her struggling to tear her eyes away from his own, those lush lips parting to draw a shaky breath, and he almost thought he could hear the intake, even from this distance. After a few moments, she managed to tear her gaze violently away from his, but by the time their eye contact broke, Louis felt as if he had already stared into her soul. There had been a definite contact between them, and the look of trepidation in her eyes had sent a surge of excitement through him, a sensation much stronger than anything he had experienced picking on the skittish servant girls.

Speaking of skittish, the new girl certainly seemed nervous, and no sooner had she broken eye contact with him than she rushed over to her mother, her actions drawing attention to Louis. Both the older woman and the butler raised their eyes in his direction, and the young man effortlessly adopted an expression of gentle, friendly openness, one intended to make them feel more welcome than they might have felt so far in the large mansion. Slowly, he descended the stairs, completely at ease with their eyes upon him and taking his own time to make his way down the wide stone steps. He could feel the gaze of the women, a mild curiosity from the older woman and trepidation from the younger, and he savoured the latter, enjoying the way she squirmed lightly as he fixed his eyes upon her. It was an exquisite sensation indeed, and Louis found he only wanted to indulge in it further.

Only a small nod of acknowledgement was offered towards the butler, Louis' eyes fixed on the women as he descended the last few steps of the staircase, his tall frame on full display now that the marble railings no longer blocked their view of his lower half. He was immaculately clad, with a midnight-coloured pair of pants and a dark blue shirt that seemed to accentuate his fit body, and as he stopped before them he smiled a friendly smile, his tuft of blonde hair hanging loosely around his face. "Yes, I was told that we would have guests, so I thought I would be a courteous host and greet them," he offered with a smile towards the women, as he approached and gently grasped the older woman's hand. He then leaned down and placed a polite kiss on the back of her hand. "Welcome, Ms. Alongrutch, to the El'Bridget estate. I am Louis El'Bridget," he said, and relinquished his hold of Noelle's hand, before turning towards the young, blonde girl standing by her side. "And you must be my sister," he said, more of a statement than a question, and he reached up towards the hand held close to her chest. The exposed flesh of her chest drew his eyes, and his fingers almost brushed it as they wrapped around her wrist.

He pulled her hand, with a little force if she resisted his grip on her wrist, though not enough that it would be obvious to the other two human beings present in the room, and he stared straight at her face as he pulled her hand slowly to his lips, his grip unyielding. "It is truly a pleasure to meet you, sister dearest," he spoke, his eyes piercing into hers if she were to lift her gaze to meet his, and he placed a feather-light kiss upon her fair skin. Then, as if his polite greeting had never happened, he let go of her hand and took a step back, turning his eyes towards the butler. "Martin, have your people prepared rooms for our two guests?" Louis inquired suddenly, his voice light as if it was just a curious investigation, though his eyes held a hint of mirth, as if towards a joke that he only he had understood.





Noelle politely dipped her head as Louis approached, and smiled to his hand-kissing gesture. Her hands were not moist sticks of sickness, they were merely dead weight. The woman was undoubtedly ill, though not yet to that degree. “Oh, why, thank you, Louis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Was he coming to her next? He had to be. Then he himself appeared directly in front of Stella, He was coming to her next. The entirety of her joints stiffened at this realization. Although this new brother of hers interested her from the moment she heard of him, and the moment she saw him, she took no steps to run across him or to get into conversation with him. On the other hand she confessed that she did, all the same and from the very first, revealed that he was indeed on her mind, regardless discerned from nerves or not. He clutched her tense wrist. She did nothing on her behalf to encourage it, yet he still insisted and heaved, crumbling her shield of protection. At once she wanted to snatch her hand back to herself, but that was no way for a guest to behave. Stella’s hand twitched but made no objection. He had to have felt her pulsating heart pumping madly through her veins in a never ending cycle on her wrist. It was so fierce that it may have been her body’s defensive attempt to push him off.

The unyielding grip demanded attention, and so she finally gave way with a flick of her eyes to where he held her dainty wrist. Surely he was to give slack to his hand, was he not? In truth, she was expecting a small release, but to her astonishment there was no avail. Her eyes gaped at her mother, as if tattling in the silence. It went unnoticed as her mother’s face played a resting expression, a small, set smile and relaxed lids. Perhaps he simply had not known his own strength, that there was no underlined message to be received. There had been no definitive reason for Stella to think otherwise; if anything, quite the opposite. Thus far he had proven to be the friendliest in this pretense home and she could not help but to suddenly feel her behavior had been somewhat churlish. In this rejection she was inclined to offer the cordial side of her. With reluctance and hesitation her eyes meet his.

At the same time she did, she wish she had not. His gaze barbed hers, like a weapon, and she found herself unable to tear the contact away. Her unsteady blue orbs shone with fretfulness. This became more so the closer his lips edged to her hand. On the surface what might have been speculated as politeness, but at the heart of it was a demonstration of his power. All this just from the hunt of her brother’s eyes… Stella’s instinct still told her that his grip mattered deeply.

When he released her wrist, she visibly relaxed and where he gripped was etched with pale shades of red. Stella noticed dropping her hands to the front of her and casually cupped the area with her other hand to hide it. It really was all too easy to redden the skin. She remembered that just before in the car that this happened to her forearm, and besides, it would subside in a matter of minutes, as if it was never there. As though it never even happened.

After Louis inquired, the look in the Butler’s eyes was more of madness than mirth. The women would not recognize it. "Master Louis, well, there are truly just too many rooms..." His mouth appeared squished, trying not to crack a twist of amusement. "However, I had been informed that-" gesturing with a careless wave of his white gloved fingers to Noelle, "will be staying in the Infirmary wing, naturally. In such a large home one would not want the spread of germs. And the younger one, hmm..." He turned to Stella, "Are you sick as well?" and asked, full well knowing that she was not.

Stella shifted uneasily, picked up her head then slowly parted her lips to respond, "No, I'--" but her mother butted in for her and clarified, "No, she is not sick. She is perfectly healthy." and sounded pleased with the fact.

"Oh, of course." came the Butler's voice before directing his attention back to Louis. "I have yet to have heard word from Master Howard on the matter. Perhaps the West wing?" he questioned for approval; in both his question and performance.





He adored the look in her pale blue orbs, that uncertain fretfulness as her eyes met his. He felt such power as he held her gaze, feeling how she wavered before the force of his stare. Her limb trembled slightly in his grip as he pulled on it, but she made no effort to pull it back, seeming to reluctantly accept what was happening, allowing him to handle the limb in question as he wished. He pulled it to his lips, his eyes maintaining their contact with hers as he placed a polite kiss upon her fair skin, and all the while his gaze challenged hers, showing her a dominance which was completely opposed to the respect of his greeting. It was a challenge, and she failed to answer it, as she soon tore her gaze away to save herself the fretful worry of trying to decipher the meaning of his gaze, the hunger that resided in it, and what it might mean for her immediate future.

The most amazing part was, she didn't protest or struggle. She didn't speak out, to let anyone know of the force of his grip around her wrist, nor about the sheer dominance of his gaze as he held her enchained, a helpless victim of his eyes for as long as their orbs remained connected. When he released her hand from the steely grip of his fingers, she simply withdrew it quietly, and covered the sign of his strong grasp with her other hand, hiding the discoloured skin until it would fade and leave no evidence of his forceful grip. Louis couldn't help the small smile that spread across his lips, though he effortlessly made it seem warmer than it truly was, and listened intently as the butler spoke.

He almost wanted to grin as the butler played right into his hands, and the man would be well-accustomed to the moods of the heir of the El'Bridget family to know that he had done well, judging by the subtle look of approval in Louis' eyes. He waited a moment, appearing to be thinking, before he nodded. "The West Wing, yes. A good suggestion, Martin," Louis said, smiling at the young woman standing before him. His parents kept their quarters in the North Wing of the mansion, and the Infirmary was in the East Wing, which meant that the only other person who would be occupying the West Wing, apart from the numerous servants who maintained the place, would be Louis' other sister.

"In fact, I can show Stella here to one of the guest rooms, while you can show Ms. Alongrutch to the Infimary Wing," Louis offered in his calm, friendly tone, playing the role of the attentive and helpful host with practiced ease, though there was a predatory hint in his eyes as his gaze wandered over the young girl, one she might be able to pick up on if she met his eyes. Not waiting for her to protest or object to his suggestion, he walked over to the bottom of the stairs and extended his hand, as if to aid her in ascending the wide stone steps, his entire being radiating the attitude of a proper gentleman. Everything, except his eyes, which still regarded her like a wolf who had just been let into the sheep's pen.





There had been times in the past when she had experienced apprehension of her presence. Most came from the parents of the friends house she was at, her very own home if she scored an undesirable grade on a test even- and sometimes establishments that thought teenagers to be despicable, uneducated creatures, those were always the most unpleasant.

But she had never experienced this level of being unwelcome before.

As soon as Louis broke his proximity from the group, the Butler moments after imitated his coaxing movements, which encouraged Noelle to pace two acquiesce steps towards his direction.

Noelle paused and turned to Louis and begun bidding her farewells, "Thank you, Louis. Dearly. We mean to cause no encumbrance with our arrival and truly appreciate your warming welcome." Her eye contact shifted to her daughter, whom was unmoving, gazing to where her mother stepped away from her. 'Stella." A small sore voice once again conjured past her dry, cracked lips. It was clear as day that it was a tone which followed before a 'good night.' This did not settle well with her daughter.

"But mother, I want to stay with you tonight." Which was to be the protest of the night regardless or not Stella's new brother had imprinted his... his marks on her, literately. Even if the encounter was a fleeting 'hello', even if not at all. Simply entertaining the thought of spending a night alone in a new home without the comforting presence of her mother felt... unsafe. In this implication little to no thoughts of him even surfaced her thoughts; all that seeped down through to her widening eyes were genuine anguish at the bare idea of abandoning her mother- in a place of all places.

"And I'm going to miss you too." Noelle accepted with a raise of her mousy brown eyebrows. "It's still kind of early and I am exhausted. Besides, you must at least get to stay where you'll be staying and settle before thinking abut worrying over me. Honestly. I'm fine." And smiled, subtly rejected her requested, partly in desires for her to get better acquainted in this place, and the other part because she desperately required rest.

Stella pressed her lips into a tight line at the positivity in her mother's tone of voice. The cracking lips were signs enough to influence the not stressing her mother with her insisting on them staying together tonight. All that had occurred today she figured her mother was in just as much a state of distress as herself. "...Okay.." Her gaze shifted to the immaculately polished tiled floor that reflected the room itself before easing back to her mother and lovingly added, "Please rest well, Mother."

Suddenly and warily, she walked towards the blonde haired stranger gaping his hand for hers. Although genetically related they were the opposite, strangers; in truth, they were raw, blood relatives; brother and sister; 'family.' And she felt intensity budding through her in what? Nerves? A once expected excitement? As she thought before, just having someone close to her age in a formidable, new house had appealed to her interests; but as a minute passed, as she peered to her Brother's identically shaped brown eyes for the first glance since the demonstration of his grip and closed the distance between them, it felt as anything but what it was surmised to be. She paused a stepped before him.

Stella looked back for encouragement to her mother.

Fortunately for Louis, Noelle was employed in the state of the sickness of her own mind. "Good night." She did not detect the strange and peculiar flutter in Stella's eyes, but noticed her hesitation - a familiar signal Stella had given her not too long ago since her arrival. She could not tell if anything more than nerves was what convulsed her because to her there was nothing more to meet the eye, her eyes. Noelle thought Louis to be a man who was known for his success and friendly nature, even this had been shown and known to her, not merely gossiped about.

The Butler and Noelle bid Louis farewell, the Butler bowing upon his utterance and they both suddenly vanished from the room.

Stella reluctantly turned back to Louis and his expecting hand, and she thought about denying him. How rude would that be? To be honest, this place induced shifts in her judgement and in the moment she convinced herself he simply was not aware of his own strength; what else could it have been? Nothing. Her hand seemed to be dragging itself through the air before resting the hand with the wrist that just now faint and undetectable smirches of pale, flesh toned prints into his larger hand. The tips of her slender fingers twitched with rejection in unison.at being united with his warm hand.

With a low chin she thanked him, "You have a very lovely home." It was a banal remark, though being forced in this unanticipated situation, he should consider himself lucky that she even managed a sentence out. She was an introvert with a little extrovert tendencies, however, this terribly awkward situation purged more of the former. Admittedly she had a mass of words brimming with in, though were all dormant as of now. Her gazes were shifty and never lasted more than a second.





Louis was pleased by the impending and timely departure of the butler and the mother of the young girl, especially considering the fact that the older woman paid little heed to the feeble protests of the girl. He had been careful not to give the mother any suspicion that something was off, and it seemed to have paid off, as the vibe he got from her was of a mother telling her daughter not to be so fretful and nervous, and to go along with his wishes. Stella's protest was almost reminiscient of a pouting child, and the calm and caring of her mother's reply nearly made her seem silly in her worry. Whether she was worried because she had seen something in his eyes that might have given her pause, or if she was simply loath to leave her sick mother alone in such a large place was anyone's guess, but Louis was fairly certain that the former had in part influenced the latter.

Noelle's smile towards him was warm and grateful, displaying no hesitation at leaving her daughter in the care of this young, friendly man, and his returned smile was equally mild-natured, conveying a wish for her speedy recovery, though in his mind his thoughts went in the opposite direction. After all, the longer the older lady remained at the mansion for treatment, the longer her daughter would likely stay as well, and though Louis knew he was supposed to despise the beautiful blonde standing before him, he could also feel an undeniable attraction to her.

"Rest well, Miss," he called politely after the older woman as the butler led her away with a bow directed at Louis. "I will take good care of your daughter." As the final words left his lips, he turned his eyes towards the young girl in question, his eyes finding her standing before him at the bottom of the stairs. She still seemed hesitant, her eyes rested upon his hand in place of her own hand which he waited patiently for, and as she finally reached out her movement seemed almost deliberately sluggish.

He allowed her to progress at her own pace. He didn't shift his hand until her skin at last touched his own, her smaller, slender fingers grasping gently at the space between his thumb and index finger, and then his fingers closed around her hand with a sudden finality. It was a gentle grip, entirely different from his earlier grasp of her wrist, which still held almost imperceptible marks from his fingers on her skin, but if she was to truly feel the way his fingers held her hand, she would find that same strength lying in wait, hidden but not fully unseen. It was like a hangman's noose; at the moment it was slackened, almost though not completely unthreatening, but if she were to struggle against his grip it would tighten, dig into her skin and make any thought of escape impossible. She would have no choice but to follow.

Louis placed a foot upon the first marble step of the staircase, and waited until Stella's foot moved as well before he continued the ascent. He held her hand through each step, as if merely aiding her in ascending the staircase safely, though the subtle strength that resided in his grip could also be read as an entirely different motive, an unwillingness to let her slip away from him, to put more space between them. Indeed, Louis maintained a close proximity to the young girl with the golden tresses as each one of his steps mimicked her own.

A soft incline of his head was the first response to her spoken comment, and he accepted it despite the banality of her words, though he brushed it aside with a humbleness that seemed natural, or well-practiced, depending of how easily Stella could see past the veil of his mask. "It is a bit too spacious at times," he commented easily, indicating with a wave of his free hand the number of doors visible in the halls leading away from the central entrance hall, their slowly rising altitude giving them a good vantage point to judge the number of rooms the mansion possessed, which stood in stark contrast to the number of permanent residents. As he spoke, his gaze rested calmly upon the girl whose hand he held in his gentle but possessive grip, noting the fretful way her eyes moved with a small smile.

"I must say, Stella, I am happy we could aid your mother against her illness," he offered after a few moments of silence, just as they were ascending the last few steps of the gently curving staircase, and stood before a long hallway with soft, red carpets. "After all, no matter what others might say," he continued, his words subtly drawing attention to the fact that not everyone felt she or her mother was welcome here, and that a sense of gratitude from her was not entirely out of place in the current situation. "You are family, and family should help one another," his conclusion was spoken with a slight smile, though his orbs held a hint of something more if she were to meet his gaze amidst the fretful movements of her eyes. Amusement perhaps, or something darker, something more threatening and sinister?





Louis easily captured the entirety of Stella’s smaller hand, which was expected. What was not anticipated was the lack of force in his grasp. This action, or rather absence there of noticeably stilled her. Her eyes narrowed and locked at their intertwined limbs. She innocently assumed it were to be a near match to what it had been just moments ago. But this, this was almost unrecognizable. Almost.

Yet his hand was smoldering with a vice that she could feel fogging her tense hand. Was this… what she thought it was? A psychological assessment which harbored the true feeling he related to her? No. It could not be. It simply just… cannot. Something inside her core dismayed her, his display sharpened her natural instincts of danger. She did not want to believe it. For a quick second she flicked her head to the right, as if her Mother was still standing there waiting for her to change her mind. Perhaps she should have put forth more vigor in her protest to stay with her mother. Though, he seemed… nice enough otherwise. And her mother had no such hesitations in displaying a trustworthiness and fondness towards him.

Then suddenly she realized her brief state of paralysis and followed Louis’s initial guidance, hastily mounted the first step. Her shifty orbs continually shuffled from the clean marble steps, to suspiciously at their hands, to the pits of his intense eyes. It did not take long for the thought to strike her that he was waiting for her to lead the ascent up the widened staircase.

Stella briefly hovered her right foot over the next smooth marble stair and planted the bottom of the black ballet flat on the stone. White lights illuminating from above reflected the black rounded point and highlighted the toned skin over the tibia bone of that leg. The edges of her at-the-knee skirt danced and snaked up her upper leg with the up heave, attracting the rays of light to glow that bit of exposed pale flesh too before the navy colored cotton cloth slithered back closer to her knee with the settlement of her step. This would occur with every climbing of a stair step she took, and with some areas of the elevation and placement of the light could have added a pinch of sparkle.

The string of her shifty gaze collected to the directions of Louis’s blithe wave of his free hand. Some doors stretched as tall as the ceiling, had gold brushed handles the size of her petite torso, and somewhere lacquered with fine line carved details of vines and symbols that even from a distance could be no way mistaken for anything but work of a professional. The new addition lasted for several moments to exude the acknowledgement of his response to compensate for what she did not speak.
Then the air fall silent around them and at first, Stella found it unwinding. However that resulted in the solitude of her own anxiety-ridden mind and the weight of his thick digits around hers; which crept the notable difference back to thoughts.

At his utterance, she politely geared her face in his directions, though being careful not to give full eye contact. In fact, she was not even sure she was comfortable to the point where she could. A tight tug t the corner of her velvet, pouty lips curled them in the smallest of smiles. But that died right there, as he subtly insulted her, and kicked her pride down. “Thanks again.” A whispered reflex off her tongue, quickly, desiring to repel the haunting thoughts of being unwelcome in this household. At least to most; her new brother sure did not seem to pay much heed to the fact that she was a product of infidelity.

“Yes, family.” The comment seemed to herself, though was in agreement to his statement. It almost warmed her. “I never had any siblings before, so it’s nice to have a brother.” Stella shyly admitted with an inaudible laugh and offered a timed smile before directing her attention toward the hallway they approached. As they did, the heels of her shoes imprinted on the lavish, red, carpet, it was of youthful impulsiveness that she allowed her hand to go slack, to retract from his.

But there was no such release. Stella’s neat eyebrows furrowed, confused. The thumping at the palms of her hands raced against his, though provided no further resistance out of the flushed state of being pushed back a few mental steps of his nice, though violent words. An unpleasant look cast her lowering eyes, made worse of her Brother’s lasting impression.





As they ascended the stairs together, one wide marble step at a time, there was not much conversation, which gave Louis plenty of time to admire the way the fabric of her skirt rose and descended with each step. Every time Stella lifted her leg to mount another step, her retreating skirt revealed a few inches of fair, unblemished skin, that seemed to shine slightly in the light of the large chandelier. It seemed to draw his eyes, like his gaze could not resist the gravity of her thigh's attraction, and he was glad she still seemed too shy to meet his gaze.

Still, even if her fretful gaze told him that she was not yet comfortable enough to look him in the eyes, or even say much in response to his conversational prompts, she followed along willingly enough as he guided her up the staircase, meaning he did not have to use the vice-like grip he had displayed earlier. Still, it could be sensed, lurking behind the veil of consciousness, ready to grip her limb at a moment's notice if she was to suddenly try and slip away from him. She might realise this as well; that even if he gave off the appearance of being a charitable host helping her to find a room, she was already trapped.

He inclined his head slightly in response to her comment about never having had a brother before, accepting her admittance with a smile of his own, meeting her timid one. "I never realised I had such a beautiful sister, either," he complimented her, though his comment was also a subtle kick towards his other sister, and the claim that Stella was more satisfying to rest his eyes upon. To most people, it would have sounded like a harmless comment, but Stella might react differently to a compliment to her attractiveness from one of her own blood, especially if she had picked up on his slightly odd behaviour so far.

This would prove especially true once she tried to withdraw her hand, and then found that Louis' grip held her like a vice once more, his fingers tight around her own, accepting no argument as he began leading her down the hallway. Just like in the hallways on the ground floor, there were numerous doors, many leading to guest rooms which might suit Stella just fine, and yet he kept pulling her along. His pace was slow but steady and insistent, and his grip gave no hint of softening any time soon, giving Stella the choice of following along or being pulled until she lost balance and fell.

Louis didn't say anything as he lead Stella along the hallway, but for the nervous girl the pressing silence was luckily shortlived, as they soon stopped before a particular wooden door, decorated with golden trims and an elaborately decorated door handle. Stella would not know this, having never been to the mansion before, but the room was very close to Louis' own room, and was usually reserved for close guests of the young heir. The fact that he had chosen to place her in such close proximity to his own, personal quarters suggested that he would like to keep her close at hand, for some yet unknown motive.

"Here you go, dear sister," Louis said with a smile, though the edges of his lips curved upwards until it was the shadow of a satisfied smirk. Letting go of her smaller fingers at last, he reached for the door handle, confident that she would still stand there when he turned to gaze upon her. He opened the large wooden door, and turned to her with an expectant expression upon his face, making it obvious that he wanted her to enter. Once she did, she would find a room that was sparsely furnished in comparison with Louis' own, but to her eyes it would be lavishly decorated, with a large canopy bed and a dresser, the floor covered in the same rich, crimson rug as the hallway outside, and the walls were decorated with expensive-looking paintings. As she entered, Louis followed her into the room and closed the door behind him, the sound of the door closing drawing attention to the fact that they were now alone in the privacy of the room.





Stella’s gaze shifted from his to in front of her at his bold compliment. Or maybe he was just trying to play nice and may not have been as expert at it as he wanted. Still, it felt… wrong. Whatever the case, she reached from someplace in her depths to tug a polite smile at the corners of her smooth lips, tight and tense. As she even suspected herself that the pulls on her facial features gave away something other than intended; discerned from the poster of dis-settlement still fighting her delicate features that gracefully pulled and imitated the truthful scope of her uncomfortable nature in this situation.

She forced a nervous laughter to fill the void. No sooner had he propelled himself briskly down the hall, powered in equal measure by determination to retain his hold on his sister’s smaller hand. Initially, hesitation leeched her limbs and for a few paces found herself at arm’s length. This was clearly not a request. She craved for release from the shackle of his grip. Say something? She could not. Well, she could if she wanted to emit a distrusting quality she held toward her nothing-but-humble-host, and in return would mirror that perhaps she possessed such a quality as well.

Trapped.

Louis led Stella, unresisting his guidance, the rest of the time down the hallways, keeping up with his paces as his strides seemed to get longer with each step. Perhaps she was not as fully unresisting as she had thought.

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Finally, they came to a halt, and at last her hand was freed once more. With a deliberate slowness added to the haste of the action, she retracted her hands out of his view to a clasp behind her. She did not need to see to know the shades of redness that etched at that hand. In fact, heat emitted from it and she could feel the warmth in her other hand that covered it.

He was right. He was entitled to that annoyingly, cocky look of smugness that creased his face. Fore, Stella did not so much as twist her body away in a different direction, not even to enter the room after he had opened it. It was almost as though she was waiting for a sign of non-verbal permission to enter, and he gave it to her. She did not perceive this interaction between them of anything more than a curiosity and exchange as if asking if this was a room they were going to enter. Apparently, his utterance was not enough of a clarification.

Upon entering the room she shifted her hands to the front of her, perched and re-clasped at the rift of her cleavage. The room was very large in length, width, and height. A unity of wall-length windows nestled together in the middle of the wall that would be first seen upon entering. Thew view was of the glistening ocean and cycling waves crashing against outcropping of rocks, daylight was fading and the sky was dull pink, though any other parts of the El'Bridget the room may have faced were not level. The walls were laid with peculiar spiral patterns and expensive artwork. Her jaw relaxed as her eyes did the circling of the impressive room, making an effort to keep her head forward as much as possible.

Creakkk.

The door creaked closed and initiated the rapid palpitating of her heart. Undesiring to draw any more attention to the fact that it was just these two in this room, she took quick paces to the left section of windows. This was awkward, for Stella, being in a new home, a strange room, and with Louis. They just met for the first time as brother and sister, so she supposed it was not completely out of place that they spend some quality time together. She fiddled nervously with the soft ends of her golden locks. She spoke without looking back, partly because she felt as if she was obligated to, “This is wonderful. Truly. Thank you.” She wondered if being quiet and shy would discourage any interest to stay.

Her eyes shifted focus from the dancing waves to the reflection of the room on the glass of the window. It was clear enough that she could make out the discoloration on her slender digits. Not more than a second of time was paid to that, her eyes curiously wandered to Louis's reflection. It was the first time she had a chance to inspect him. She saw no reflection of a gentle man, but somewhere in his stance she sensed darkness, a deep pool of blackness that she herself might drown within. Or be held down under.

[/CENTER]
 
Designed for Punishment
part 2 (part 3 is in the post below)]



As the door slid audibly shut behind them, the two young people were left in only the company of one another, though it was noticeable that one of them desired this shared space more than the other did. Louis certainly enjoyed the chance to be alone with his step-sister. However, there was a bit of a struggle within him. She was certainly an attractive young woman, and if they had not shared the blood of his unfaithful father, she could have been a fitting candidate to fight with other minor noble girls for his hand. On the other hand, his own dear mother loathed both her and the common tramp who had seduced her husband, and Louis knew he had to hurt Stella to stay in his mother's good graces, with all the benefits that entailed. Of course, there were several ways he could hurt her...

Her quiet demeanour did not seem to discourage the presence of her host, as Stella might have hoped, to give her some space to get acquainted with her new residence. Quite the opposite in fact; if the blonde girl was to watch his reflection in the windows, she would notice that rather than receding into the distance, her half-brother was approaching her, his mirror image growing until he was standing right behind her, a calm smile on his lips. He was close, only a few hand widths separating them, his reflection meeting her eyes over her shoulder. "It is no significant trouble, dear sister," Louis spoke calmly in response to her words of gratitude, nurturing the idea that it was, in fact, an effort made by the household to accomodate Stella and her mother, though he didn't speak it so plainly as to draw attention to the fact that he might expect compensation on behalf of his family.

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Together they stood before the large windows, the warm glow of the slowly setting sun bathing them both in an orange light. She did not move away from him, did not shy away from his presence, and her silent acceptance of his proximity was all he needed. One of his hands, which had been folded easily behind his back along with its twin, now rose, and Stella would suddenly feel his fingers upon her shoulder, a light grip as his fingers gripped her skin through her blouse. Then, a moment later, his grip tightened a little and then relaxed once more, several times, as if he only wanted to give his sister a gentle massage.

However, his fingers were soon moving once more, now in the direction of her bare neck, wandering inch by inch. At first she would only feel his fingers through the light fabric of her blouse, but within moments there was the warm touch of his skin against hers, as his digits caressed up the side of her slender neck. He smirked slightly, seeing the expression on her face in the reflection of the window, and he could feel her tensing under his touch, as his fingers ascended the side of her neck. The continued to climb, until at last he brushed a few locks of golden hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a few long, sensous moments at her earlobe.

"You must be tired from the trip," Louis commented, his voice quiet with a strong hint of mirth in his tone, as if he was enjoying a private joke on Stella's expense, one that she was not privy to at the moment, and his hand remained at the side of her head. His fingers left her ear, and trailed down her golden tresses, feeling some blonde locks between his fingers as if ascertaining the quality and make of some fine textiles.





The gleam in her blue orbs was that of a stupid hopefulness that he would reduce his mass from the reflection. Louis had become elastic and stretched right behind her, in an intrusive way that left her anxious and unblinking.

Admittedly, Stella felt as if she were a burden from inception. And while there was much truth to that, the matter became more apparent with each protracted second she was acquainted within the walls of the El'Bridget home. El'Bridget... people of the world would only have dreamt of possessing the powerful and well known surname. That may be a part of her last name, but it appointed her no benefits or advancements of such the prestige title in the position she was bestowed. She may very well bear that hyphened last name, though everyone knew as well as she did that stripped of the falsely placed title she was another mere no one. Still, she would have to come to accept that the people within these walls may have no problem, even take pleasure in reminding her of the reality of it all, which was nothing but a nightmare. Not only did she not belong, she would have to attend a new school and try to make new friends, her mother was growing more ill by the day and the medical attention had not appeared to be warding it off. Atop of that, now she had this brother whom she so strongly wanted to believe that she did not know what to think of him. That itself appeased her more than considering the very truth that rotted within her core.

One that he kept toying with, as though he were doing no wrong. He dauntlessly rebelled against her non-verbal signals of communication; one after the next, relentlessly, and at that only had known her under an hour! This one-- Stella started with placing fault on Louis, though felt compelled to cease the train of thought, which had forked into the opposite direction; what if it were herself? Not him, but her. She thought it plausible. After all, she lead the life of a commoner up until she stepped foot on the very floor she stood. Very much he could be somewhat less sheltered, educated, and socialized more than she ever partaken. Then it suddenly felt acceptable to misplace her internal behaviors of the fact that their ideals of socialism were different.

In addition, Stella was only sixteen, a few years younger than him. In her young eyes she thought him to be much older than three or four years. A more accurate comparison would be of about double that. Yet concurrently in her mind he was still considered in the same age range, only that Louis reaped the dominance and authority, certainly the superiority.

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Then out of the murk, his fingers captured her shoulders and a jolt surged through out the perimeter of her soft form. So taken by surprise she was that to him it might have felt violent. It broke the penetration of the gaze she held to Louis's reflection. She was breathless. She could neither accept nor reject his affection. Fear gave speed to her heart. Thump, Thump. Her defensive arms crossed at her chest constricted, and pushed the double supple mounds together in an inviting fashion that poured atop the neckline of her white blouse. His massaging fingers sapped her strength. She was curious as to how long she could keep this up. Strange to say that after a couple of pumping grips the sapping evolved to.. pleasant sparks and from across the bridge of her nose, ear to ear, a blushing pink streak bloomed. Stella very slightly twisted her head toward him, though not at all, and almost expected that to be enough to get him to cease his uneasy actions.

But to her rejection, she felt once more the pressure of his thick digits fall to a new area of her shoulders.. her flesh. His fingers felt like a violation and were unwelcome, much as she was in this place. It took visible restraint to prevent the stiffening of her shoulders extending to the point that it might have depressed the advancements of his fingers. She succeeded. However, it was all the more a battle of her own fretful nerves, and delightfully twisted reactions of her muscles. Once crept up to her ears, it was out of a natural, unnoticeable reaction that her shoulders raised and shuttered to the foreign sensation. The heat emitting from her cheeks made her eyes sting.

For a bleak moment, silence hummed the tune in the air after his mention of her being tired. He was mocking her, she was sure of it. She thought that secure tone in his voice was indeed amusement, probably out him thinking her as childish for such displays of something that would be perceived as friendly. Panic boiled her blood, and it was there she swore on her life she had not inhaled one breathe the entire time he had his hands on her.

She took three deep breaths, the first one touched of a loud gasping sound. Her shoulders declined, only to tense once more. And spoke in reply, "Yes" her voice was cracked and she lightly coughed until the tunnel of her throat was cleared. She repeated, "Yes." And went on with a cautious voice, "I guess I'm not used to sitting in a car for such a long time." Among other things.

Standing there wracked her sensitive nerves, and her face (besides the glow of pink) looked pale and perplexed. She thought if she tried to step away she might accidentally or purposely get her silk-like locks entangled in his fist, so made no such steps. The decline of her chin made his inspection of it all the more noticeable.

"It's getting late.. and dark." Stella finally gave birth to the cumbersome silence, distractedly pointing out the obvious, she did in attempts to warrant his departure. 'A-and I should probably get some sleep."





As his fingers gripped her flesh through the thin fabric of her top, Louis could feel her stiffening suddenly in response, and if he had not currently been gripping her shoulders, she might well have shrugged out of his grip from sheer surprise. The tension in her form was obvious to him right away, and out of instinct, she folded her fair, slender arms over her chest. This only served to push her large assets closer together, giving her taller brother an excellent view as he stood behind her, looming large behind her as his fingers wandered along her shoulders and up her neck.

Her breath was quicker now, coming in short, shallow gasps that were barely audible, but Louis, by virtue of his close proximity and the attention he was imparting upon her, picked up on it with ease. When she spoke in response to his comment, her voice was cracked and wavering at first, and she had to clear her throat before she could answer him once more. All the while, Louis stared at the reflection of her face in the window, smiling amusedly at her as his fingers ceaselessly massaged the side of her neck, before his digits suddenly found interest in her golden tresses, and his eyes broke the gaze upon her facial features to study the strands trapped between his curious fingers.

Even as Louis stood as close behind her body as he was currently doing, even as his fingers quite obviously trespassed within the accepted limits of her personal space, and touched her fair skin and blonde hair, there was no struggle from the young girl, apart from the tension in her muscles as he touched her. She was blushing, as much was apparent, and the tension in her flesh spoke volumes of how she would much rather have been anywhere else right now, instead of alone in the guest room with her host, being physically investigated by her half-brother.

And yet, she did not struggle against his touch. To his surprised delight, Stella did not shy away no matter how unwelcome his touch upon her skin was. She bore it in silence, and Louis assumed that her lack of resistance against his touch was in no small part due to the condition of her mother, and a sincere wish not to alienate herself from her family and the aid that they provided for her mother, and by extension, herself. Behind her back, Louis smirked slightly to himself, pleased by the development. If she was concerned for her mother to the point where she would allow a man she had just met, her brother no less, to touch her skin and hair without any fuzz, how much else would she bear without complaint to avoid risking her mother's health?

His fingers roamed gently through her golden locks, feeling the softness of the strands, and Louis even lifted a handful of it up to his nose, drawing in a silent breath of her scent. The intake of breath was silent, and yet it felt loud in the silence of the room, only joined by the steady beating of his own heart, and Stella's slightly quicker breath, conveying her anxious state of mind.

At last, Stella spoke, and broke the silence that hung like a veil around them, claiming that it was late, and that she needed rest after her ardous journey. Louis smiled, and let the silence hang around them a little longer, unhurriedly withdrawing his nose from her hair, and then at last he let go of her hair. "Oh, of course," Louis said, smiling at her in the reflection of the window, though his hand, which had dropped back to her shoulder, didn't withdraw. "Make yourself at home, dear sister," he added, with a flourish of his free hand, indicating the large canopy bed and the dresser, next to which stood her luggage. "I will have one of the servants call on you for breakfast in the morning. Good night, sister." As he said the last words, Louis suddenly leaned in, over her shoulder, and placed a kiss on her cheek. Then, he turned around, and walked towards the bedroom door, leaving Stella alone with her confusion and her thoughts.





Just as she thought he was going to retreat to his bedroom... no, instead he shocked her with giving her cheek a quick kiss. The kiss felt like fire against her already overheated face. Her eyes bludgeoned from their sockets, ponderously roaming to his reflection, and her lips pressed into a tight line. Stella was significantly silent. The entirety of her neat figure expressed extraordinary distress. She watched his tall figure shrink in the window.

Once Louis exited the room, Stella obtained the solitude she desired and her eyebrows went from a straight crease to a slightly more relaxed angle. A gasp of air filled her lungs and diffused the tension of the night's air.

Oh god, she hoped she would never have to deal with that again. Why did she not say anything? She should have said something. Stella scolded herself on the matter and told herself she was going to speak up. She had decided to confront him. No, not that. It was not as though he was doing something wrong, per say. Ugh. She could not take offense for this uneasy embarrassment, which she did not herself understand. Secretly, she blamed herself. The next time he crossed the line of passively violating her personal space, though, she vowed to verbally express her winding discomfort. That's probably all it would of took for him to realize what he was doing, what he was doing to her. She thought herself a silly, foolish girl for enduring the pantomime of being someone raised with cordial affection. No sooner could she tolerate another reflection such as this.

The encounter with her brother seemed to make a considerable first impression on Stella. Despite his evident interest to spend time with her, they were not quick to become friends. And in truth, she was not sure if they were ever going to be. Although, Louis came off as a natural extrovert, that could redeem the tense feeling she felt that said they would not.

Before going to bed, she unpacked her belongings, and changed into a mid-thigh, lilac colored slip-gown.




Rays of glowing sunrise ascended from the autumn colored horizon and screamed through the wall of extravagant windows.

It was earlier than the usual time Stella would awake when she woke from a much needed slumber. She idly wondered what time it was, planting her face in her golden strands that laid dead atop a fluffy, white pillow. It was not as good a sleep as she had hoped, despite the amazing comfort of the over sized bed. There was little doubt that it would not change, after all, this was her first night in a new home. Nerves would take time to getting used to the new scent of lavender fuming from the plush blankets and silk bed sheets, as would with her new, strange brother. Though he was not in the room when she woke, thank goodness--why would be be?, a permanent presence of him lingered and stoked a fear resting dormant beneath her skin. She still felt the trails of his fingers crawling on her.

She yawned, letting a low groan from her throat realizing Louis's mention of family breakfast. As encouraging as his words had sounded, as well as terrifying with them. It was going to be an awfully awkward breakfast, most definitely the most cumbersome one of her life. A urge to feign a day of sickness beamed in her mind, but instead she rolled out of the bed and crossed over to the four piece en-suite to shower.

When Stella exited the large, double doors the sun had hit the room like a fist. Her beautiful hair was semi-blow dried and reflected off the beam of the rays. A pristine white towel was wrapped over her breasts, shielding her curvaceous form, though it dipped in the back to the small of her back, nicely showcasing the sharp curves of her lean torso. She crossed over to her new dresser, the red carpet was warm beneath her feet. Over the course of the next couple of minutes of deciding what to wear the impending event became more clearer, and there was almost a forced adjust twisting her mouth. Louis's mother, her father, her mother, Louis, Violet... god only knows who else who be at that table, and what, if any words were to be uttered; she did not imagine very pleasant ones if Howard's wife was present along with her mother.





As his lips gently touched her burning cheek, Louis could feel a sudden rigidity passing through her form in response to his relatively chaste, though still uncommon among siblings, kiss placed upon her skin. He smiled slightly, the two tiers of his lips shifting slightly against her reddened skin, and then he withdrew. By looking in the reflection of the window, Stella would see her brother walking away without looking back, and the sound of the closing door signaled that she was, once again, on her own, with her nervous thoughts.

It was not until he had crossed the treshold of the room, and closed the heavy wooden door behind him, that Louis turned and looked at the entrance to the room he had just vacated, a small smile on his lips. That had gone even better than he could have hoped. He had gradually wormed his way within her personal sphere, and with every step, she had seemingly suppressed her instincts to struggle against his approaches. Every time he had invaded her personal space, she had borne his attention in silence, even though her body had silently protested against his touch.

Louis was feeling confident as he walked down the richly decorated hallway, crossing the short distance to his own chambers, smiling to himself as he thought of the blonde girl who was presumably making herself at home in her guest room. She was not going to resist him if he kept making little pushes closer to her, he realised, not as long as her mother was receiving treatment at the El'Bridget house. Stella would know that they could not afford the medical bills without the help of her father's family, and that if she spoke out against Louis, it would be her word against his. That was a contest Stella was unlikely to win. At the thought, the young man grinned. If he could edge himself closer to her, when she could not resist him out of fear for her mother's health, he could make his own life heaven while making hers hell, and follow the commands of his own mother, at least in spirit.

Still, he had a ways to go, and he was not about to give her too much time to steel herself. Come morning, she would have had time to think, and he was determined to not let her prepare herself for his continued attention. Grinning to himself, Louis stopped outside his own chambers, and then walked away, deciding that he needed to find one of the staff, and set up breakfast plans for the morning.


As Stella was getting dressed to face her first morning in a new and unknown mansion, there was a soft knocking on the door, and a moment later, the door was pushed open gently. A young, female face peeked in, around Stella's own age, with midlength, crimson hair and emerald eyes, that were quickly lowered as she noticed the half-dressed woman. "My apologies, Ms. Alongrutch," the young woman said, pointedly using the lesser name of the girl before her, despite the fact that her young master had asked her to fetch 'Stella El'Bridget' from her quarters. In the household, it was well-known that Louis' mother utterly loathed the older Alongrutch, and even though the young redhead was primarily tasked to serve the West Wing and Master Louis, she still dreaded incurring the wrath of the Lady of the House.

"I just came to inform you that Master Louis invites you to break fast with him," the girl said, as she entered and closed the door behind her, her eyes still glued to the expensive carpets beneath her spotless, black shoes, which matched her uniform. Her hands were clasped at her front, as she waited patiently for the blonde woman to come with her, and her posture made it perfectly obvious that she had been instructed to show Stella the way, and that she was not about to disappoint her master or do anything to draw her ire. Stella might not want to dine with Louis, especially considering the fact that the young maid had not mentioned any other names to be present at the meal, but it was clear that the girl would not be leaving the room except in the company of the bastard girl who carried the honourable title of El'Bridget as one of her birth names.





As the door opened, it made a swoosh sound, and at once Stella jumped. The towel draped around her figure and dropped a few inches, exposing her curves before she caught it and hastily pulled it back up with a surprised gasp. "I-It's fine.." She stumbled over her words, looking at the maid bashfully dipping her head in apologizes. For a fraction of an instant, she thought perhaps it might have been Louis, and was relieved to know it was not. How embarrassingly awkward that would have been. Certainly not something that would disperse the already tense energy between the new siblings. "Yes, thank you. I remember." Her shoulders were clutched up to her chin, slender back slightly hunched as she tried to hide her body, expecting her to leave.

But she did not make her departure. Instead she waited, making it clear she was going to wait for her. Stella was obscurely offended by the presence of the girl. Such so that she was incapable of expressing it, she could not even find words to purge from her lips, which were almost pursed, almost, though disciplined into not. No matter the invasion inflicted upon her, she was not one to intentionally place discomfort onto another. That was not how her mother raised her. The maid was not leaving, so Stella would have to... she could not change in front of a stranger. She mindlessly plucked a few articles of clothing from the dresser, hugged them at her chest, and scurried over to the bathroom.

She turned so quickly and vanished behind the large, wooden bathroom as it came to a close that the young servant girl would not have had time to utter out a single word if she wanted to speak. Admittedly, it left her feeling rather boorish and suddenly longed to apologize for the hasty action. She realized the girl was merely doing her job and figured she had no inkling to the peculiar behavior that Stella mistook it for; much like her brother, Louis, she thought with dis positioned apprehension. In no part was it their fault, or even hers, that they were adjusted to different customs. But she was already behind the door.

After taking a short time to dress and finish her hair, she stood before the door loomed before her, it was manipulating her not to open it, to just stay behind it and miss breakfast. It was tempting. Was not Stella forced at times to engage in situations as such? Of course she had, and it was always done alone, without such reluctance, though it had never been quite a peculiar and unique situation as this. She did not exactly pride herself of her independence, as now it caused her to regret the intrusions of doubt. At least she had the idea she was going to get to see her mother, she was happy about that and wanted to know how her first night here went.

Stella emerged from the bathroom, her attire reflected that independent demeanor. She wore a above the knee, celestial blue halter sundress, the neckline appeared almost square and accented with a frill, the straps were wide and wrapped over her collarbones to around her neck. A long-sleeved loose flowing white shrug provided proper coverage, while the cut did not hide her shape. On both feet she wore ballet flats, similar to the back ones she wore yesterday, though they were white and had a slightly pointed toe.

"Okay." Her voice could be heard again, as though signaling that she was ready to the girl whom she felt some obstruction. In case, she added, "I'm ready." and smiled politely as she neared toward her with intent to follow. Then quietly felt obligated to offer, "It's nice to meet you. Have you worked here long, do you like working for the family?"

It would not be until they exited that the words the girl announced earlier would come to thought. They were muddied from the action of intrusion and she could not remember word for word what she said. It sounded as though she only mentioned Louis, but perhaps it was Louis was the one who sent for her, or she misheard.





The sound of the bathroom door closing alerted the maid to the fact that Stella had retreated to the bathroom rather than staying around and getting dressed in front of her, despite the lowered eyes of the redhaired girl. The maid raised her gaze briefly to glance at the door, to confirm that she was for now alone in the bedroom area of the suite, but she just as quickly lowered her eyes again, determined not to slip up in how she behaved. She was aware that Stella was not like the rest of the El'Bridget family, but she could not know that she wouldn't scrutinise the staff jut as thoroughly, and the girl was not about to give her anything to complain about. So she kept her eyes down, and waited patiently for the other girl to join her once again.

The young, redhaired girl was still waiting patiently as Stella came out of the bathroom, now dressed in a suitable fashion for the prospect of having breakfast with her half-brother. The redhead's emerald eyes remained downcast until the blonde girl spoke up, telling her that she was ready for the first meal of the day, and only then did the maid lift her gaze, though she did not meet Stella's eyes. "If you would follow me, Ms. Alongrutch," she said softly, with a gentle flourish of her hand, as she opened the door and held it open for Stella, her head lowered just enough to be respectful, without seeming overly eager to serve. Again, she did not want to earn the ire of the Lady of the House by seeming to eager to serve the Master's bastard daughter. Though she was new, she had picked up on the dangers of getting on Mrs. El'Bridget's bad side quick enough.

As Stella walked out the door from the room that would serve as her quarters for the foreseeable future, the redhaired maid followed her out and closed the door gently behind herself, before motioning for the blonde to follow her as she lead the way down the hall, in the opposite direction of where Stella had come from the other night. This meant that rather than heading in the direction of the entrance and the rest of the mansion, the two young women were heading further into the West Wing, the part of the mansion that served Louis and his true-blooded sister.

The maid glanced back at the young lady as she spoke her questions softly, her voice barely audible, and the redhaired servant inclined her head softly in response to Stella's greeting words, as if the small motion of her head would let her get away with not saying more than necessary, a fear of seeming to friendly with the bastard girl still at the forefront of her mind. "A little over two weeks, Ms. Alongrutch. It is an honour to serve such a distinguished family," she offered quietly, the neutral tone of her voice clarifying in no uncertain terms whether she believed Stella belonged in such distinguished company.

Luckily, before either of them could pose any more words that might make the walk even more awkward and uncomfortable, they reached a pair of large double doors, and the maid pushed one of the doors open, before motioning for the blonde lady to enter ahead of her. As Stella entered, she would find a richly decorated dining area, with a pair of gleaming chandeliers, and an impressively decorated stone fireplace in the center of one of the walls, the opposite wall lined with large windows through which the mid-morning sun shone brightly. The rays of sun that stretched along the soft carpets almost reached the table that stood in the center of the room, though it was obvious from the size of the room that a larger dining table would usually occupy the space. The dining table that had been laid out at the moment was very small, likely only able to seat six guests in total along its circumference, but now it was only laid out for two. Two supremely carved wooden chairs with high backs had been pulled up to the table, on each long side, making it seem more like a romantic date than a breakfast shared between siblings, and several waiters stood on hand, sharply dressed and with cloths over their lower arm, ready to serve Stella and the man she would break fast with.

Speaking of the young Master of the House, Louis stood by one of the chairs, and he smiled warmly at Stella as she was bid to enter by the maid, and no sooner had she entered before the maid closed the door behind her back, clearly prefering not to be in the presence of the male El'Bridget. Louis simply smiled, and approached Stella if she would not walk towards the table of her own accord. As they came within arm length of one another, he would grasp her hand gently, though once more there was a hint of forcefulness in the way he held her dainty fingers, and brought her hand up so he could kiss it. "Good morning, dear sister," he spoke softly as his lips parted from the fair skin of her hand, his eyes holding hers like a mountain lion gazing upon a doe, and his lips curved slightly in a smile. "I hope you've had a good rest?" The words were gentle and curious, what seemed like genuine interest in his chestnut eyes as he held her gaze, waiting to hear her angel's voice that he had longed for all night. His hand, meanwhile, still held hers in a light but uncompromising grip, giving her no chance of backing away, and it would be clear to the young girl that she was once more trapped with her brother, a man whose intentions she had little chance of deciphering at the moment.





There was a part of Stella that was hoping for some extent of insight of the family, more in particular, her brother. But the redhead girl was vague and strange in her response, giving a sense that she did not in fact want to answer her at all and had only done so out of her position, and that once again refreshed the welcome air that Stella was being forced to breathe. No information other than her short lived time here of two weeks, it would serve no use for any further gentle probing, she was too new to truly know anything of importance. At least that was what Stella had thought as she looked at the stringy, red strands of the maid's hair that floated from left to right. Her thoughts traced back to her mother and could not wait to get to spend time with her after 'family' breakfast; she was excited and smiled that she would get to see the room where her Mother would be staying. As long as she focused on that during this, she would be able to get through it, she was sure. Suddenly, they stopped as she turned to a set of doors to open them. Perhaps her pace had quickened in efforts to avoid forced chatter, or was the room closer than Stella would have initially guessed? One thing was certain, the redhead did not like her. The maid motion for her to enter, and she did.

Stella's appearance had undergone a complete drop since she seen Louis, and only Louis. Where was everyone else? She wondered, then having seen the table set up for two it became obvious there would no one else. Her eyes that were arched, dropped slightly while she questioningly peered around. A feeling of had been hoodwinked cast upon her. The surprise in that showed no vacant in her slightly enlarged orbs.

Slam. The door abruptly closed behind her, drawing her attention with a flick her head. Her escort had departed in a noticeable haste. She found it suspicious. And thought perhaps there might be something more going on between Louis and the redhead? It was none of her business. Redirecting her attention to the front of her, Louis was closer. She seemed to be shrinking with each step that closed the distance between them. Instinctively, her elbows twitched back at his out reach for her hand, in remembrance of his not-so-gentle grasps. A strong hand caught hers and she watched it being strained up to his lips and bid her a good morning.

Out of her polite nature, she smiled and declined her head in acknowledgement that she heard him.

At that moment Stella lightly tugged with a consistent weight, urging him to release her hand, but not in a direction that implied an order. Their eyes meet. Her heart multiplied in beats. Stella hastily turned her eyes off to the right and dropped them to the floor. She was not sure how she should feel about the way he stared at her. From the hunt in his eyes she very much felt like the target of some game. A game of which Stella had no inkling, nor consent, of participating. She would not draw her eyes to his again. He would win that game, and in hope that her playing along with it would settle appeasement in her brother, Louis, to get him to just stop staring at her the way he was. As though he regarded her as having done something easy. It was not at all comforting. She wanted him to stop, even though there was not really not much that he was doing that would be of notice to anyone else. Stella most definitively noticed.

Her lips parted with anticipation, with intention to speak, but there was suddenly a thickness swelling and blocking her windpipe. Her lips closed as her doe eyes shifted over to the left and tried to swallow whatever it was. Again they parted, tongue sliding across to slightly wet them, leaving the center with a shine and inhaled to make sure there would be no further interfere with her speech. Her chest raised as she successfully inhaled a lung full. "Well. I slept fine. Thanks." She curiously inquired without pause of breath, "Is no one else not joining us?" and sounded as though she would much less not join herself if there were no one else.





As the door shut audibly behind Stella's back, Louis gave a brief glance in the direction of the wooden barrier, noting that the redhaired maid had left without his express permission. Granted, she was fairly new to the household, and seemed to be a little skittish around him still, but that was no reason for her to act like she had. Louis made a mental note to himself to discipline the maid in question properly for her transgression at a later time, but at the moment he had a much more pleasant matter to attend to. His gaze shifted from the door to the young, golden-haired woman standing before it, and he smiled warmly at her as he approached, his hand gently seizing hers.

Just like the night before, he could feel the struggle against his grip as he pulled her dainty hand towards his lips. Her resistance was not an active one, but he could still feel it just below the surface. At least at first, but as he parted the touch of his lips against her skin, she gave a little tug, trying to pull her hand back to join its twin, which was folded protectively over her chest. He let her have control of her limb once more, though only after a little while of maintaining his grip, showing her implicitly that he was the one who allowed her to withdraw her hand. Still, even with her small show of resistance against his touch, her eyes were cast aside and down, not brave enough to meet his gaze, and her lips remained sealed.

Despite her small tug against his possessive grip, it seemed that she still maintained her policy of appeasement when it came to confronting her obvious uneasiness with the attention she was given from her half-brother. For some situations, the path of less resistance was often a wise choice, but not in a situation like this, where she was faced with someone possessing a strong will and clear personal goals, who shunned no means for gaining what he felt was rightfully his. Each time she let him do as he wished without voicing a challenge to his actions, she simply confirmed to him that she would not resist when push came to shove, and Louis only became more certain that he could hold her in the palm of his hand soon enough.

She inquired then, her voice sounding slightly breathless, as to whether they would be accompanied in their breaking of the fast by anyone else in the household, and Louis smiled slightly, thinking that the layout of the table should already have given her the idea of what was going on. Apparently not. "The medical staff informed me that your mother would need to rest and quiet for a few days, and my parents are otherwise too busy to accompany us today," he lied smoothly. Truth be told, no one had said that Stella's mother could not accept visitors, only that she should not strain herself, and walking across the large mansion to the West Wing was going to take a bit of effort, so she was unlikely to disturb them. Similarly, his parents usually ate their breakfast in the North Wing, and though Louis would often join them, today he had informed them that he was busy.

Smiling warmly and expectantly at her, Louis walked over to one of the intricately carved, high-back chairs, and pulled it out for her, making no suggestion of moving until she would come over and sit down, at which point he would push the chair in so that the high armrests and the table effectively pinned her in place, allowing her no movement without having to push the chair back. "You must be hungry, dear sister," he said calmly, regarding her with that familiar, slightly amused gaze, as he walked around the small table and seated himself, before motioning to the waiters. The men stepped forward, placing a sizeable feast upon the table between them; eggs of various types, cured and spiced meats, cheeses, course and fine bread, pastries and jams, as well as milk and orange juice in fine glass mugs. Once they had placed the abundance of food before the two teenagers, the men stepped back with a bow, and after a nod from Louis, the servants retreated calmly from the room, leaving Louis and Stella alone. He motioned with a hand towards the food before them, smiling at her as he watched her with that familiar, slightly possessive gaze. "Eat," he suggested to her, kind of needlessly as there was nothing else to do with the food placed before them.

"I will be honest with you, dear sister," Louis said suddenly a few moments later, his hands folded and his chin resting upon his hands, as he watched her calmly from across the table, a small, knowing smile creasing his lips. "Not everyone feels that you are welcome here, unfortunately," he continued, and to Stella the likely identity of the person who loathed her presence was bound to be obvious. Louis confirmed her suspicion a moment later, as he continued with his speech, his food remaining untouched before him. "My mother wants both you and your mother gone, but as long as she is the only one who thinks this, she will not get her will. However," Louis' voice took on a note of warning, even as the small smile on his face widened by a fraction. "If my mother was to gain support in her sentiment from other family members, even my father would have to concede to her demand." There, at last, was the central point of Louis' argumentation. There were four El'Bridget family members in the mansion, not counting Stella herself, and while her father was happy to have her and her mother present, Louis' mother was not, while Louis himself and his true-blooded sister were both on the fence for now, having not declared their opinion either way. If Stella wanted the support of Louis in allowing her mother to stay and receive the medical assistance she sorely needed, she would have to stay on his good side, and the young heir of the family was well aware of this, if his smile was to be any judge.





It was an agonizing moment that dragged with his purposeful authority until he finally allowed her reigns to her hand. She put it to her chest with the other hand and clutched it to herself knowing it was hers again. Finally, she looked to him only to look away from hearing the vocal affirmations that indeed no one else would be joining them, and mainly because she was upset to hear she would not be able to see her mother for a few days.

She noticed his shadow was gone from her personal space and looked up to see him expectantly waiting for her to sit in the chair he held out for her. There were other people in the room and wanted no scampering rumors floating midst the staff if she fussed with an excuse to leave, so she reluctantly crossed to the chair and sat, placing her hands folded at her lap and held the dress to keep it in place, thinking if nothing else at least the butlers were going to be here and she would not have to be alone with him again. "Thank you." said Stella lowly in a passive voice. While he was behind her she at once felt the way she had the night before when he loomed behind her and strangely lifted finger fulls of her hair to his face. Her shoulders inclined with a chill and stiffly flinched her head to the right, then to the left to watch if he was coming for her hair. The back of the chair was unusually high and he pushed it in forward... rather pushed her against the table and the chair behind her. She stilled, as though assuming he would notice and assist in restoring some room in her seat for her. But was only restored with that same gaze she wished he would stop, as he took his own seat across the table.

Something was not right in the air. It smelled of hazard. And was forever awkward. There was something... something peculiar about her brother that she could not quite put her finger on. She recalled the haste of the redhead maids departure and drew a conclusion that part of it was Louis shoveled an initial stand-off impression to people he would just meet.

The butlers dressed the table with breakfast and filled their cups, after Louis blithely fluttered his hand in the air that signaled the staff to leave. Dismayed, Stella could not help but to stare with a tense chest as they all left, one by one.

They were alone now.

He suddenly began to speak again with the weave of mock in his tone of voice. It was as though the Earth itself had come to a stand still for only these two so attention to details could be drawn to that fact. Blunt words rolled casually and too calm from his lips that hit her harshly. Stella became dejected and more anxious. Though it was clear she was tentatively listening, her eye contact was shifty, shifting the tension of her discomfort to elevate.

What exactly did he mean by that, she questioned to herself, knowing it was said for a reason, and she already had a good idea that his passive-aggressive actions were not by any means passive, no matter if she badly wanted to think otherwise. It was difficult to judge at a glance, so she carefully cast her eyes to settle on him through her dark, rich lashes; she blinked and found the way he regarded her as though searching and pondering for something, and the smile twitched on his lips portrayed the eerie confidence in his patience. She did not know for what. Strangely, she almost deliberately did not care to know, or want to.

If the offer for her and her mother's stay were to be retracted they would have no place to go and lack the urgent medical care her mother required. This new brother of hers had spoke indirectly, implying a expectation of some sort. She seen her situation so very clearly, though was unconscious of the extent he seen his. She already experienced the fate of not being entirely welcome here on numerous occasions during her short time here.

Stella realized she may had not come across as very nice to him either. At first her nerves might had made her seem this way, but rather than shrinking her nerves were made worse by her brother's bizarre behaviors. And she thought her non-verbal communications would suffice to have got that across to him, though seemed only to encourage it- even currently. He might had only said what he did to try to encourage her to be more cordial with him. If he expected something in return for being a nice person... he was not a nice person, even if just a friendship. However, she planned to be more social, though found herself momentarily incapable of considering just what to say to the bold words he just spoke. His presence broke her concentration. Her eyes left his as she declined her chin and stared at the insignificant spot of space between her torso and the table; much resembled to her position in this situation.

Despite the doubts she felt toward a friendship blossoming with Louis, she still had no choice but to try and force it.

"We don't want to cause any trouble. And do not mean to have caused any." she assured nervously with a shake of her golden locks following the motion of her head. "My mother and I will keep to ourselves. We have no intentions of harming your family." she added gratefully, having thought he might had also meant it as a warning not to sling any form of slander or stir anything in regards to the El'Bridget family and the public.

Stella snaked her right arm from the narrow opening and reached for her glass of orange juice to quench her throat and politely inquired, "So.. I hear you're a limiter..?" eyes never leaving the rim of the glass, even as she bought it to her lips and begun to sip. The proximity of the table made it awkwardly so.

A shuttering gasp exploded in her mouth. The cup suddenly slipped from her slender digits, cascading the orange juice over her exposed chest, naturally flowing toward the center of her bit of cleavage, wetting and darkening some areas of her blue dress, as the chill to her flesh made her flex back to stand, only to had been trapped, her spine shot straight up instead. The cup could be heard clattering on the floor after the sound of Stella's other hand hit into the under side of the table in a failed haste attempt to catch it. She grabbed the napkin by her plate and hurried it to her chest, "Sorry. I'm sorry." and exhaled, working on bringing her left hand from beneath the table. "I'll clean it up." How embarrassing, she could not believe she just did that. At least the cup did not contain much of the liquid.






Once they had finished their duty of serving the food to their master and his guest, the staff were quick to make themselves scarce. Louis had declared his desire to be alone with his half-sister to get to know her in a private setting, and he had made it perfectly clear to the servants that they were not to be disturbed. The staff who had been there long enough to see Louis' moods knew how vital it was to follow his orders to the letter, and they would rein in the newer and more inexperienced staff, in case any of them would decide to disturb the master for any reason, knowing that his ire could spread to include them all if they went against him.

Stella could not be expected to know about the mixed reputation Louis held among the serving staff, but she did not need to to feel uncomfortable in her current situation. Her discomfort was plain to see, as she barely spoke to him except when spoken to, and her eyes were constantly traversing the area of the room, pointedly avoiding looking at her brother in fear of what she would find in his eyes. Similarly, her food remained untouched before her, and she had only deigned herself to pour a small glass of fresh orange juice.

As he began to speak to her, however, he felt her gaze drift in his direction, and she met his eyes through the curtain of her dark lashes. Her slowly blinking eyes reminded him so much of a doe staring into the headlights of a car; an innocent, beautiful creature, completely unaware of the danger she was in, how much he could do to her if she would only let him, and he knew that with her current situation, she could not afford not to follow his every wish.

She gave him a nervous, hesitating assurance that she meant to cause no trouble for him or his family, and he couldn't help but give her a small smile. He found it amusing that she took his words to heart, that she actually believed that he might suspect her of being a troublemaker. He knew she wasn't; she was a very typical good-girl, the talented school queen, the innocent, pristine young woman. He just longed to corrupt her, to show his mother that the girl who dared to take on their name would not be allowed to do as he pleased. He could follow the spirit of his mother's words, and still enjoy the benefits of having such a beautiful, innocent half-sister. She wouldn't cause any trouble, he knew, and that meant she would not speak against him. She couldn't, not with her beloved mother's health on the line.

"You have caused no trouble," he said amiably and with a tone of amusement, an unspoken yet lingering in the brief silence that followed his statement, before his lips curled slightly in a small smile, and he lifted a cup of tea to his lip, taking a long, languid sip of the hot liquid, before he lowered it back to the saucer. "And I sincerely do not think you are planning to cause any, dear sister," he said. Was there a ghost of a threat in that tone? A suggestion that she would comply with everything he wished of her if she wanted to stay, with all the benefits her mother gained from it?

It seemed that she was at least going to try to put herself in his good graces, as she lifted her glass of orange juice, and posed a polite and casual question in his direction, but whatever answer he had been inclined to provide her disappeared from the tip of his tongue as there was a sudden, surprised gasp from the young lady across from him, and a clatter as the container fell noisily to the floor. The vibrantly coloured juice had spilled over her white blouse and the ample bosom beneath, and Louis' eyes followed a few droplets as they ran down her flawless skin, into the great and shadowed valley of her chest.

"Allow me," Louis said as he rose, easily pushing back the chair as he was not sitting as constricted as Stella was, and he crossed around the table in a few steps, while she was struggling with bringing up her left hand. Gripping a napkin from the table, Louis was completely unabashed as he suddenly slid the napkin into the cleavage of his half-sister, attempting to catch the orange droplets before they ran into the depths of her bosom where he could not readily reach. It was a lost effort, but Stella would feel the warmth of his hand gliding along the upper ends of her sizeable globes. "You've made a bit of a mess of your dress, Stella," he commented calmly with a light chuckle, withdrawing the napkin only after taking a bit of time to run the paper over her smooth, fair skin.

"Wait here, and I will have someone bring over a new outfit for you," Louis offered with that tell-tale smile of his, and before Stella would have the chance to protest, to claim that she could make her way back to her quarters on her own, Louis was already making his way over to the door. He opened it slightly ajar, and spoke to someone who were apparently standing just outside of the room, loud enough for Stella to hear his message to the servant. "Please fetch the outfit I had prepared for my dear sister. It is in my chamber," Louis said, and then closed the door, turning back towards his sister with a satisfied smile.




[/CENTER]
 
Designed for Punishment
Part 3

Will randomly edit this post to add future replies.]




The naive side of her thought nothing more of his hasty gesture to aid in her silly clumsiness; that he was going to scoop the cup she dropped from the floor. That was the initial impression she got impression anyhow; what else could her Brother have offered his “allow me” assistance of? Stella was dumb in her assumption. And soon realized she purely miscalculated his not to innocent intentions. Louis was beside her, and invaded her what personal space she had left in her entrapment.

This time Stella did make an obvious sound. His actions were so bold and brash that Stella quivered out a whimper, and she stifled it with a heavy inhale through her mouth in the very next second. But her dismay of astonishment was unmistakably audible. She flinched her arm to retract his, but that died right there. Always as ever, did any eye contact with her brother too. Stella intentionally distracted her gaze the opposite direction and her head declined, her face glowered to hide beneath her bangs, to hide her face and paralyzed eyes of shock, in a sea of blushing, shameful, embarrassment. There was so very much she wanted to say, but no other discomforts purged from her quivering, tense lips. The warmth of his flesh connected and collided with the delicate mounds of her breasts and felt hot like fire. It was actually a bit cold in the room, having a chill bite to the air, but damned it be if he allowed anything other than him to control what his innocent sister was feeling. There was no denying the wrong his invasion felt; appealing to the opposite of what it was falsely made out to seem to be, which was aiding to help Stella in her spill of juice. All he truly helped was himself, helped himself to sneakily, sexually violate his younger sister.

If he stayed there unwelcome any longer she was certainly moments away from embarrassing herself by a verge of tears. Before that occurred, by some miracle, he was off of her. For a moment she found her brother's invasion some what silly, or desperately wanted to. Yet she had to confess to herself that when he backed away she felt as if a burdensome load was lifted from her chest...which technically... it was.

As he ventured toward the door, leaving her without room to protest his offer, Stella rushed her other hand from the table and hastily rose the neckline of her dress to cover the entirety of her damp, exposed chest. If he saw that it could be considered rude, she thought. Not necessarily wanting come across as such, nor being able to afford, exude the impression that Louis’s help was not welcome and unwanted. Even though, In part, it was. She could not let her stance play off as such, she knew, and readjusted the coverage of her chest by clutching the little white jacket she wore together defensively at her collar bones. Although she appeared to had compensated for the chill of the beverage at her fleshy chest with the coat, it might be quite obvious that her discomfort addressed her longing for coverage.

An outfit he had prepared for her? She dully pondered, finding herself not desiring the answer.

He faced her again. Stella looked at him, guarded, and was in evident perplexity. A violent pulsation possessed her heart. He looked so frightfully beautiful in his confidence that Stella could not help but to try to maintain eye contacts; both in equal efforts to match the authority in his and a petty obligation of politeness; but it was no sooner broken by a spellbound state of remembering and feeling the placement of his bold hand through the trails that still felt a blaze across her still covered cleavage. She squirmed, and considered standing to assert her independence. Though, she did not dare try to alert him with any noisy obstruction, and disobedience, of moving the placement of her chair.

Her voice nervously squeaked, “I do not mean trouble.” She assured him again, though likely not quite the meaning he might have had in mind. She coughed and breathed deeply to clear her throat. ‘There’s no need to prepare anything for me. Really.” Her pleading was obscured, and insisted with earnest to get out the room with him, “What I' wearing is fine. And I-I have my own clothes back in my room. Though I’m certain what you picked out is very nice. It’s no trouble for me to go back to...” Her feminine voice trailed out in the sudden drop of her sentence, as though not wanting to push his patience among his faux kindness.

Her knuckles whitened from the grip she maintained at her cardigan.





The action Louis had conducted now was the boldest one up to this point, as he pressed his palm against his sister's ample bosom, under the guise of catching the remaining droplets of fresh juice before it could soil her clothing even further, and he had expected her to show resistance to his approach and to his touch. Her hesitation towards his presense had been possible to sense until now, and as he touched her directly, her displeasure was even more obvious. However, her resistance still died almost before it had manifested. The whimper that left her parted lips in surprise was strangled almost immediately, and her hand twitched in panic as he laid hand upon her bosom, but she made no move towards forcibly removing the affronting hand, despite the obvious invasion of her personal space.

As before, her show of resistance against her brother's continued breaches of normal conduct between siblings still seemed to consist mainly of pained silence and a pointed avoidance of his gaze, as if ignoring his transgressions would be an effective way to fight his advances, whereas past experience from the night before should have told her that this would not be effective. She had made no vocal objections to his touch, apart from that choked whimper, and her attempts to dissuade him were frankly laughable. All she told him with her lack of resistance, with her policy of appeasement in response to his continued transgressions, was that she would not resist.

This, of course, meant that Louis took this as a sign that he could go ahead and continue with his invasion of her personal space, as she was not going to fight against him or call him out on his offences. Whether from fear of risking her mother's treatment, or born from a natural timidity, he did not know, but the end result was the same; she would quietly bear whatever indiscretion he commited upon his sister's flesh, any breach of her personal space, as long as he only gradually escalated the seriousness of his advances. Too sudden a move, and she might well be frightened into action, though Louis doubted it, as her resistance had been crushed almost immediately even when he had directly touched her bosom. She was already in the palm of his hand, and she didn't even know it yet.

Having walked to the door and commanded one of the servants to procure the attire he had prepared for his sister, Louis turned around to regard his sister once more. The lack of sounds told him that she had not taken the opportunity of his momentary absence to push the chair back and rise, and his gaze confirmed this as he found her still sitting, her eyes watching him with a sort of wary, careful expression, though she maintained their locked eyes, gaze trembling though she did not break their contact. Louis smiled slightly, amused by her attempt at asserting herself a little again, holding her gaze calmly. She was clutching the soiled neckline of her blouse, trying desperately to shield the ample bosom that her clothes accentuated, but Louis could still feel the warmth of her soft, fair skin upon his palm, almost as if his hand was still resting upon her soft chest.

She spoke to him, then, her voice breaking slightly with nerves, as she tried to convince him that she would not need a new change of clothes, and that she would be able to find a fresh attire in her own room, though her argument trailed off weakly as his gaze held her captive. He smiled a little, that smile which seemed to hold nothing but kindness, as long as one didn't sense the mocking and cold disregard beneath. Stella was only now starting to scratch the paint, and see what was truly hidden beneath the kind and welcoming exterior of her brother. Slowly, he shook his head, as if slightly disbelieving that she would even suggest such a thing.

"Don't be silly, dear Stella," he said, the words coming out light and friendly, though there was a hint of derision lying beneath the surface, veiled so that it was only barely detectable. The fact that he had forgone the use of her title as sibling, and instead used her name, only made the words seemed more intimate, and thus adding a little extra sting to the fact that he was putting down her suggestion. "You cannot walk around like this. What if the servants were to see you, with juice all over your front? You carry the name of El'Bridget," he reminded her, as if she could possibly have forgotten. The name was a chain right now, keeping her captive, her enslavement to the dictates of her brother the price for her mother's medical treatments.

Before she had the time to protest or find another excuse to leave the presence of her brother, there was a knock on the door, and it would come as no surprise what the reason for the disturbance would be. Apparently, the servants had been quick to fetch the outfit; perhaps even a little too quick, considering the distance between their current location and Louis' quarters. The young master of the house turned in the direction of the sound, breaking his eye contact with his sister, and proceeded to open the door, grasp the bundle of clothing from the hands of the servant, and close the door once more. As he turned in her direction once more, his gaze found hers with ease, and he held her eye as he approached, each step audible over the floor of the room, a smile on his lips.

He stopped as he reached the side of his sister, still seated, and placed the bundle of clothing upon the table in front of her. Then, he proceeded to pull her chair out, at last allowing his sister the opportunity to stand if she so wished, and his hand came up to indicate the clothes placed before her. He smiled at her, gauging her reaction to the clothes he had provided. It appeared to be a frilly, white skirt, its cut short enough to reach midway down her thighs, accompanied by a crimson corset-and-blouse, which appeared to be tight-fitting enough to squeeze her bosom together in quite an attractive way once worn. The depth of the cut of the blouse, as well as the shortness of the skirt, meant the outfit he had provided was balancing precariously on the edge of what was decent and wanton, though the fine quality and details of the clothing still lent it an air of refinemeant and style.

"You may change in here. No one will enter without my permission," he said with a smile, and proceeded to turn away, offering his sister the opportunity to dress herself without anyone looking at her, though she must know that it would have been the easiest thing in the world for him to turn around and watch her change if he so desired. It was a dangerous play of whether she would trust him enough to go through with it, knowing that he could gaze upon her at any time he wished to do so yet trusting him not to.





The instant he powerfully attacked her by using her name she stifled a convulsion, as though stuck by lightening. He was right. That was the truth; all he spoke, and there was no auguring with that. Even dispute the lesser of her position, the last name El Bridget, no matter the birth descent, was infinitely El Bridget. And all the pressure of importance and prestige that bore with that surname. If had not been reminded, she would have slacked in her chair from embarrassment.

The midst of this discomposure devoid all else up until she felt the gravity of the chair retract, which in turn meant that she had to stand in response to the gesture. Stella slowly stood with caution, just then noticing the new clothing in front of her. The plays of her delicate features and fingers frosted upon gauging her eyes at the risque attire her brother casually presented to her. Each popped, frosted in the sockets as she tried to possibly imagine such clothing on herself and wonder if this was merely how the other women dressed in this class. With nothing to compare, that was all she could innocently assume.

Louis turned, suggesting she should change where she were. She took a moment to quickly unfold the clothing, to get a better look at them. She gulped. A loud and audible gulp of discomfort.

Her digits loosened from the jacket, relaxed to be freed of his scrutinizing gaze. Now that he was not watching her the tension in the room simmered. Should she change here? She really didn't want to... there were other, better ideas of where she could change. Stripping naked behind her brother posed as a threat, especially since she was uncertain to the extent of his patience. If she took too long, he could simply assume she were finished and evolve from toeing the line of privacy to leaping the line without hesitation. It was not sating to her already jumpy nerves. What did she have to worry about? Nothing, she realized. He was her brother. And that was an excuse enough to slightly decline her tense shoulder in a relaxation that they so desperately needed. She needed to create an excuse to relax because she needed it.

Stella dropped the jacket from her bare shoulders, now exposed to the cold mist of the room, slid it down her thin arms, one at a time, and dropped it to the chair behind her, light goosebumps trailed her arms. Next were the straps to her dress. It was done with immense reluctance; halting a violent hurricane would have been an easier task than allowing the blue dress to depend on the support of the way she held the straps to her breasts that spilled from the bra she wore. Her eyes never left him the entirety of the time, using her hands as though blind if needed for her eyes in those moments.

His younger sister was not well versed about boys or cocks, nor especially regarding incest; such things were almost forbidden to Stella through her innocence of it all. Young, yes indeed, but none needed clarification to mildly sense the wrong of the situation cutting the air.

Something suddenly struck her. No, no, no. Do this, she cannot. In haste, she reached out for any piece of clothing, it was the skirt she were to wear, to cover her torso. The pale blue dress draped just above the alluring curve of her bottom side, her slender back completely exposed. The very front of her only covered by the skirt and breast-plate of the dress, which the dress were only secured, covering her lower half, from the resistance she held firm against her large, supple breasts.

Where did she put her necklace? Where was it? If she questioned Louis, would he know where it was? Would he even tell her? If she had initially expressed her reluctance to attend breakfast to the red-headed maid, whom may have provoked Stella's jitters when she so rudely invaded her privacy while dressing earlier, thus may serve a logical and valid explication to the escalations of privacy violations her brother had been making her experience this morning and up to the very moment, would she be so violently uncomfortable? Would this extended request deliver turbulence during her stay? Where was her brother now? Where was her necklace?

You have no necklace.

...That's right. Her mind was a cluttered mess and drenched blind with perplexity. She felt completely alone, even with her dear brother so very close to her.

The necklace incident discouraged any urge to ask further about another room to change. It was as though the world itself going out of the natural order of things to warn her not to. The opportunity had passed the very next moment when she opened her mouth. They both knew that any sound purged from her mouth was that of protest- words or not, even a simple timid squeak that came before any words was enough express her reluctance. The reluctance that defied his orders.

There was a squeak before a nervous shuddering of something she striven to convey as casual, "Is I-is is there any other.... bathroom?..... place with more.. privacy I could change?" She dared not shift her pupils toward the direction he were. The intensity in her eyes shook with effort to maintain her gaze in front of her, to the side, on the floor, or even the ceiling, though NOT in any flinch geared to where her bother was. That alone made it clear the danger she felt in asking the question.

And hastily choked to add, breathlessly, obscured with pleading, "if not too much trouble." with the same mousy tone that promoted the daring utterance.

Damn. How the hell did he have such power over her? Not often before had she experienced such trouble with speech. It was most certainly not the way she spoke in her head just a second before it came from her mouth. That annoying shyness she had lingered with a dead weight in the air.




Having voiced the go-ahead for Stella to change her attire, Louis turned around to face in the opposite direction of his sister. His eyes wandered calmly over the exquisite interior of the dining hall, across the tasteful wallpaper, the expensive paintings and the other decorations, but his consciousness was directed at what was going on behind his back. Louis might not be able to lay eyes upon his sister at the moment, but he was listening intently for any hint of what Stella was doing. The two of them were the only occupants of the room, and Louis was silent, standing calmly a little away from Stella, giving her the privacy so that she might be able to change her clothing. That is, if she would actually gather the nerve to do it.

In the deathly silence of the hall, every sound seemed louder than normal, and as such, Stella's gulp of discomfort was clearly audible to the only other occupant of the room, which was her brother. Unbeknown to her, as she could not see his face and his expression, Louis was smiling to himself. He was enjoying this; even if he could not see her, that sound and the general atmosphere of the room was enough to tell him plainly of the discomfort that she felt. How simple a matter wouldn't it be to turn around right now, to lay eyes upon her and turn her worries to reality? He really wanted to do it, but he held himself back. Not yet. Soon, he would close the walls around her and make her his, but not yet. She was not intimidated and subdued fully yet. Not truly.

However, as Louis stood there, waiting patiently, the silence was heavy. There was no little sound to break it, apart from his own, steady breaths, and the slightly more uneven exhales and inhales of his sister. There was no shuffling of fabric, no hint to suggest that she was indeed doing what he had asked of her, and Louis was beginning to wonder if she would comply with his order. Part of him wanted to turn around, to ascertain the situation and the reason for her dawdling. Then, a small, nervous squeak broke the heavy silence of the room. Stella's voice was small and timid, asking if she could go somewhere else to change, and Louis almost wanted to chuckle. She sounded so frightened and hesitant, so different from the strong girl he had heard tales about. She truly seemed to shrink before him, and the feeling of power gave him a heady rush.

"Another place?" Louis asked, putting a hint of curiosity in his tone as he turned around to face his sister once more. Her jacket was off, hanging off the back of the chair behind her, and her pale, azure dress she had worn was hanging around her waist. As far as Louis could tell, her bra was the only thing that kept her ample bosom from spilling out into plain view, but at the moment his sight to her torso was obscured by the skirt he had brought for her to wear, clutched tight in trembling hands. Her expression was timid and shy, her eyes pleading, hoping that he would allow her to go somewhere else to change her clothing.

In contrast to his sister, Louis had some experience with the opposite sex. More than one of the serving girls at the mansion had received some unwilling attention from the heir of the El'Bridget empire, and subsequently threatened to silence or risk having their own family ruined for generations. Louis' family was a powerful one, and just his name was often enough to scare the maidens into silence, clenching their teeth and holding their tongue as they were forced to bear the attention of the young man. Of course, Stella would have no way of knowing about the darker sides of her brother, though she might begin to sense that there was more than met the eye with him. The veil of polite hospitality was beginning to slip in places.

Now he made a show of considering her question for a more private place where she could change out of her dirtied clothes, putting on an expression that suggested that it would be giving him some minor trouble, but that at the same time he was polite enough not to show it. Of course, this was all an act. Let her think that he was doing his best to accomodate her, that she should be grateful towards him. It would only serve to tighten the chains around her neck when he revealed his true desires for her. "Of course, my dear sister," he said and smiled warmly at her, his face the epitome of hospitality and caring. "My suite is right down the hall. You can change in the bathroom there, with no prying eyes nor my presence to disturb you."

Before she could voice any objections or even an answer to his suggested solution, Louis was already walking towards the door, and once more he slid the wooden panel ajar, allowing him to speak quietly to the person standing outside without risking anyone laying eyes upon his sister. No one would see her vulnerable like this, no one except himself. She belonged to him; she just didn't know it yet. His voice was quiet as he spoke, but in the silence of the room, Stella might be able to pick up enough of his words to understand his order to the servants; that they were to clear out of the hall outside, and that no one were to occupy the space between the dining hall and his own quarters for the next few minutes.

The sound of departing foot steps over soft carpets was barely audible, but the quiet sounds still suggested that the servants were retreating, obeying Louis' words, and the male heir turned in the direction of his sister, smiling warmly. He still held the door slightly ajar, making it obvious that they would be leaving the relative safety of the dining hall, and his hand was extended towards her, clearly expecting her to take it. He smiled, inclining his head slightly as if he was honestly curious as to why she hesitated, and elevated his hand a few inches for emphasis. "Are you coming, sister dearest?"





Stella focused her gaze to the spill of orange juice at the floor, the cause of all this, and rapidly blinked in the anticipation of her brother’s response. She did not quite know what to expect, something she found strange because she knew he should have obligations to cater to her request, yet all together was terribly distressed about him granting no such release. How was that? How had that come to be? He had to fulfill her request, nothing less was commutable. She told herself despite the way she avoided him as he turned and looked at her, and hoped he would comply.

The leisure of his consideration had shown by the buckling of her limbs that got tighter toward her torso, the fabric in a temporary wrinkle. The skirt covered any cleavage of her breasts and a substantial amount of her flesh, as though the blue dress were still on, and excellently penciled the outline of her generously sized breasts. Perhaps she should have straightened out the clothing in a more proper fashion before she spoke, it had only gave a verbal signal that invited her brother to face her half dressed like this. But she was not thinking about that detail and now through her timidness were yearning to adjust the wet dress back around her torso.

Had he said yes? She was not really listening, and only knew that he had uttered something before turning her back to him again. It looked like he had said yes and in an eager adjustment she hastily fixed the dress back in place, and held the skirt and shirt he had bought for her over the stain of juice at her breasts. The dress was put on hostility, and it showed, it sloppily hugging the alluring curves of her torso, no jacket to hide it. Even this was comforting and preferable than it hanging around her waist. Hushed words were exchanged from the dining room doorway. There was time to correct it, time she did not dare risk and found herself contented to simply be covered. He turned and offered out his hand for her... that gripping hand again. She regarded it as a poison, though she feigned a smile that devoid the truth of her thought. "Uh-- yes. I'm coming." Unsure, she took that as he having had yes. She had expected it and this expectation still surprised her. Reluctantly, Stella paced to depart from the room, each step passed quickly and only bought her closer to the unavoidable action of allow him the capture of her hand once again. She extended her free hand out to place in his, watching the distance close between them, and he might of almost had to grab it because she were taking her time. Everything she knew of his hand were present, the firm grip and attentive pulling, lead her out of the room.

As soon as she had bypassed the arched doorway, it was as though that scene of distress had been left behind in that room. This hallway was a new place that offered new senses and thoughts, ones she was much appreciative of. It had smelt of fresh air, like a window were open, unlike the dining room that had her breathing as if oxygen had been draining by the minute in there. Moisture had returned on her tongue. She could now clearly hear the sounds that the old castle made. He had stringed her down the hallway to someplace where she could change in privacy, the shuffle of their footsteps were slow yet deliberate with haste.

She had decided she had a strong dislike for that dining room and wished to never enter it for the rest of her stay here. She did not think she would need to, not only because there were multiple other dining halls, or knew she would reconsidering accepting her brother’s welcoming dining invitation again, but because Stella thought her mother were to get better sooner rather than later, and she would be out of here in a few short months, never having to resort to endless excuses of not entering that horrid dining hall.

Stella's paranoia subsided, her thought pattern more positive, and in that instant she became more trustful of her brother. He had only wanted to look out for her best interests and protection her reputation in the castle, which needed it. Her blue orbs peered over at Louis. It was difficult to imagine that her own brother, a member of her family, would have any other intentions lurking on their mind. Even if so, she pertained no knowledge of what it could possibly be, unless, perhaps to drive her and her mother from the castle. That she could understand.

However, that warm grip he kept at her hand had haunted her. As soon as she realized this she almost had begun to suspect something... an evil from the fibers of his large hands. She had felt dread surge through her. She was incapable of making up her mind. Something was not right here.

The space between them was cumbersome.





Even if Stella might suspect that her brother might have the intention of arguing for the eviction of her and her mother from her castle, a wish which his own mother would have been overjoyed about, Louis was harbouring no such ill wishes towards Stella. On the contrary, Louis desired for his beloved half sister to remain within the protective walls of the estate, where she would be within easy reach should he require her company, and he most assuredly wanted to make the most of her presence. Still, the fact that the extent of their stay was uncertain was a weapon that Louis could employ to gain what he wanted, a tool of leverage that he could use against his sister. After all, would she open her mouth in protest, if her own mother's health was on the line?

Louis doubted she would, and this conviction, no, this knowledge, was the primary source of the satisfied smile he gave Stella as she slowly, hesitantly accepted his hand. Her brother waited patiently for her to place her palm in his own, to let his strong, possessive fingers curl gently around her hand. He was in no hurry; after all, she would be his before long, and no matter how she delayed, the outcome would remain the same. Finally, her warm skin touched his own, and the grip she had felt before was there at once. The embrace of his fingers and palm was gentle, giving a light tug to encourage her to follow him as he began walking, and yet, the steely grip was there, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to clench down like the jaws of a bear trap if she was to object to his lead.

He held the door open for his sister, and smiled comfortingly at her as Stella walked through the arch of the door, out of the room that had now earned her ire and loathing, rather than her brother who had been the one to lead her there. He held her hand in his, his touch and the position of his arm the image of a young gentleman, his eyes subtly taking in the disheveled form of his sister. Her blue dress was not worn properly, sloppily showing more skin than the creator of the garment had likely intended for the buxom blonde, the skirt he had brought for her now being used in a different fashion than he had intended, namely to cover the stain that had initiated this whole situation. Louis had wanted to see it worn in a different way, namely around her curvy hips, the edge tantalisingly above the middle of her attractively shaped thighs, but the day was still young...

The hallway Louis lead her down was empty and quiet, his words obviously having been followed to the letter by the servants, giving the two siblings the privacy they required to make the transition from the dining hall to the quarters of the oldest of the two. The only sound that stirred the silence was their quiet steps across the carpeted floors, and the soft exhales of their breaths, no conversation springing up to fill the silence between them. Louis could feel his sister's hand tremble slightly in his grip, and he smiled to himself. Her timid nature was a very endearing aspect of her personality, constrasting with the strong public image she had built for herself, and yet it was also the very aspect that allowed him to dictate the nature of their interaction, since she would not argue when he took the lead. She might be presenting herself to be strong contender in the Chevalier system, but as Louis peeled back the layers with practiced ease, all he found was a natural submissive, just waiting to be molded and shaped, and he would be providing the hands to mold his beloved sister into the woman he so desired.

"Here we are," he offered, the sound of his gentle voice shattering the silence that had hung heavily around them for the past few minutes, perhaps startling his sister had she been occupied with her own thoughts. Louis had stopped before a door, which didn't look very different from the many other doors they had passed, but as he pushed open the finely decorated piece of mahogany wood, he revealed a room similar to Stella's, and yet not. The layout was similar at first glance, with a large canopy bed sitting close to the left-hand wall, and a full-size glass wall to the right, overlooking the vast gardens behind the estate, and on the opposite wall a door lead into what was presumably the equally-lavish bathroom. However, where Stella's guest room was modestly decorated as befitting of a temporary room, Lous' was more richly furnished. A pair of finely carved wooden dressers stood near the bed, along with a equally-intricate wardrobe, and the walls were adorned with expensive paintings and tapestries worthy of the finest museums. In a corner, a full-size medieval armour stood, the brushed platemail glinting warmly in the rays of the sun, rising slowly outside the window.

"Please, enter," Louis instructed his sister, urging her to step into the room ahead of him, allowing his gaze to dip momentarily to the curve of her behind with an appreciative smile, and as he entered his bedroom in her wake, the soft sound of the door closing would reach her ears, followed a moment later by the distinctive, metallic 'click' of the door lock. If the sound caused his sister to pause and turn, she would find her brother approaching, his hand once more seizing control of hers, though they now stood face to face. Smiling, Louis lifted his free hand, two fingers moving to caress the side of her face gently, from her temple to her chin, where they curved along the line of her jaw. With one of her hand occupied by his own, and the other shielding her modesty by way of her borrowed skirt, she had little opportunity to avoid his touch, unless she was to recoil from his caress. "I truly am lucky to have such a beautiful sister," Louis spoke softly, his eyes boring into her own, arresting her gaze with his own, as one of his fingers moved to her lip. Gently, his digit pressed down on the lower tier of her full, pink lip, pushing the lush lip down until his finger moved too far, letting her lower lip bounce back to its original position. The touch was invasive, yet delivered with extreme confidence and authority, brokering no argument from the younger girl, at least not after the veiled implications of his next statement. "I do hope you will be staying here for a long while, Stella," he said sweetly, his words and expression perfectly sincere, though his eyes held a hint of challenge, almost daring her to refuse his touch.





It was true that Stella had utmost interest in the Chevalier's system, excelling in both exams and other peculiar interests held at high value to their training, such as the in-explainable possibility of shifting back to a human form. Debased off any family authority, Stella was on the verge of being offered a scholarship to train with them, which would import her away from this area. She hoped and worked deary for it, her mother had mostly encouraged her hard work. It kept her going, and she needed to make her mother proud, give her something to keep fighting to stay alive for, and if she didn't, Stella wanted to think so such thing, but if, if she did not,at the very least her mother would know her daughter that she bought up in the proper aspects for life would go on to accomplish all that she hoped.

The siblings walked in the center down the continuous path of a vacant hallway that, she assumed, lead to Louis's bedroom. His hand felt thick, like a cement brick. When they approached the domain of her brother's bedroom there was apprehension. She could not hope to describe what it was about her brother that very much frightened her so, but it was here with effectual subtly, one that Stella could not understand- or did not want to. In the heat of the moment, somehow, perplexity hazed her brain, and entering his bedroom to escape the wrath of his ever burdening hand made sense.

It was not only change in the air, but a change from the dining room to his bedroom. She had reluctantly accepted his encouragement to enter his room, and so she did with heavy steps. The harsh glowing bulbs of lights from the ceiling reflected off metal surfaces, making them shine, and to which made the lavish decor of the room pop out and scream for the attention of anyone's eyes. Especially Stella, whom was not accustom to such designs, size, or articulated space of a home: it added to the intimation of being in a strange new home with, perhaps, an even more strange new brother.

There was a view outside his window, naturally, her mind had noticed. But that desire for the peace of a garden did not outweigh the loud and heavy thud of the metal door locking. Stella froze, not even her dainty steps eager to get away from her brother had made it half way through the room when suddenly... there was a locking bolt as troublesome as the beating of her heart, Both stooped and locked up, though Stella's was the only one to keep making deep thumping sounds.

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Before it seemed she could even blink the distance between them was closed, and returned, too soon, from the way it were before. His hand captured her only free hand, the other hand of hers flexed tremendously close to her bossum. Their proximity affected Stella. Obvious by...any human eye, really, but only Stella could distant was by the repetitiveness of these unwelcoming touches. Quite honestly, Stella had never before felt more lost. She did not know which way was up or which way was down when he was around. Why was he doing this? Stella did not know, and truthfully hoped to place it out of his earnest for a sibling. It was all the more perplexing, and the reason Stella could hardly recoil from the intepidness of his touch. Her blue orbs quivered during the time he stole the sight of her vision with his own similar shaped eyes. She was very glad when she felt she could look away and she did so in great haste. He could feel her pretty face grow fierce with heat from the rapid beating of her heart pulsing through her veins, expanded with acute alertness. There was a mild rejection through a whimper. Then again, ad another, slightly increasingly louder the more intrusive and daring his finger boldly dare go. She fleetingly thought she was going to pass out to touch lingering touches of his thick digits, warm and exploring at the young face of her supple flesh.

Unbeknownst to Stella, but the moment his finger pressured Stella's full bottom lip, anxiety build tensions in her shoulders up to her ear height, her defined jaw declined though not enough to devoid the transaction of his invasive touch. She could feel the wisping air of his breathing on her cheek, him hunched and leaned down toward smaller Stella. Even his shadow smothered her.

Stella was choking, near feigning a coughing really, to have any little excuse to escape, even a little. There was so very much she wanted to say, yet in a unity Stella had no words to utter. She could only hum strange exclamations from her violated lips. They quivered with obscured nervousness and hesitation as her chin pushed into her tense shoulder, trying to be free from her brother. But she knew there was truly no way out.

"Louis..." The uncomfortableness in her tone could not be veiled, still an air of politeness hung around her, even though it looked to pain her to do so. "Don't.. I---I--" Or perhaps that pain could be taken for what he was doing to her. The poor girl could hardly keep a breath around this strange man... her brother... that took it away from her with out any logical explanation of how he could possibly do this to Stella El Bridget. Even without her mother in the picture, his dominance was unbound.

The urgency in her reticent voice reflected her emotional and mental torment. She breathed breathlessly, half stepping back from her brother and his possessive touch, "Stop, you're scaring me" even though she was far from included of what was truly to be 'scary' from her half brother, Louis El' Bridget. "Please, no, let me go." She corrected in good nature "Brother." in a faint urgency that somewhere inside her compelled this urgency of their blood relation to be spoken.

Her dainty wrist flicked, and almost lost the coverage of the skirt, half slide down her amble breasts in the yank of her wrist from Louis, which, even in the forcefulness still begged for permission. "Stop." She tried to act tough, like her voice could speak without cracking above a whisper, like this did not bother her, like she could handle it, though she dare not once, not even flick her blue eye gaze anywhere near her brother's during the polite inquiry. Her pulse raced rapidly at her tiny palms that resisted his grip and her face that reddened a deep streak of brick red across her high cheekbones that hid her face from him, both face and wrist aching for an escape towards the door. Her bones trembled belied this trying to act tough act.






Stella's discomfort was plain to see for Louis, hanging like a choking veil over her, restricting both her limbs and her tongue from struggling in any significant way against him. Her brother had her trapped, both physically and mentally. Sure, she could wrest her hand from his grip, and storm out, unlock the door and escape the clogging and imposing atmosphere that her brother bestowed upon her. But she didn't. Whether his presence rooted her to the spot, or she was scared of earning his ire, Stella remained where she was standing, allowing her older sibling's fingers to trail slowly over her blushing features.

Sure, she did put up some resistance to his borderline-inappropriate advances, her shoulders rising to frame her chin, and the young girl turned her face aside to avoid the touch of his fingers as much as she possibly could without shuffling her feet away from him. Even though her soft whimpers and the sideway jerk of her head made her discomfort obvious, she did not try to remove herself from Louis' intimidating presence, her feet remaining rooted to the expensive carpets beneath them. As he touched her face so brazenly, her whimpers were eventually replaced by stuttered words, asking him to stop his indecent caresses. Louis persisted, however, as even with her protesting words, her tone was still quiet and subdued, breaking when she tried to raise it to give it authority. She tried to pull her hand from his grasp, but there was no real force in her yank, as if she still waited for his approval, and Louis did not give it, maintaining his grip upon her dainty wrist.

"I'm scaring you?" Louis spoke, the first words he had uttered since he had begun touching his sister's fair cheek, and his expression suggested a hint of incredulity at his trembling sibling's claim. She sounded so uncomfortable, so nervous, and her older half-brother pressed the issue, both physically and conceptually, as he stepped closer. If Stella remained rooted to the spot like she had for the past minute or so, his body would suddenly be much more intimately closer, which was unlikely to help the discomfort that Stella felt, and if she were to take a step back to mimic his advance, Louis would simply repeat the motion. Either way, whether Stella would be standing in the middle of the floor, or with her back against the far wall, Louis body would be closer in proximity to her own, close enough that her bared skin would be able to feel the slight heat from his own flesh, and the warmth of his exhale washing over her face as he leaned close.

"You shouldn't be scared of me, sister dearest," Louis said, a knowing smile on his lips, scant inches separating their faces from one another. There was a glimmer in his eyes, one which would be obvious should his younger half-sister dare to meet his gaze once more, though that seemed unlikely at this point. He seemed to be enjoying the power he held over Stella, the fact that she could not summon the strength to resist him properly, even with her admirable martial reputation. Right now, Stella would be experiencing the discomfort and sheer powerlessness felt by most of the young women who worked as servants to the El'Bridget heir. His fingers still circled her wrist, his grip not tight enough to leave marks upon her skin, but still secure enough that Stella could not retreat from this intimate encounter unless her brother willed it.

"After all, I am the only one you have here." The smile upon the young man's lips widened by a fraction as he spoke, making it obvious to Stella what he meant by those words. It was no secret that Louis' mother was very critical of the presence of Stella and her mother, and wanted them both gone, so it wouldn't be hard to imagine what would happen if Louis were to voice his support for his mother's views. If that happened, her father wouldn't have much choice but to send them both away, perhaps to a place where the medical support for Stella's mother wouldn't be as qualified as here. It was Louis' trumph card, and he was now employing it to show Stella quite plainly where she stood, though of course the obvious threat was veiled in his regularly refined speech.

Satisfied that he had gotten his message across to his younger sister, Louis actually let go of her slender wrist, allowing her to withdraw the offended limb if she so desired. Instead, his hand found her chin, grasping it gently but firmly between his fingers, and unless Stella were to resume her fruitless struggle against him, he would turn her face to look at him. "Now, why don't you go and change, Stella?" Louis asked, voice deceptively sweet as he motioned for the door behind her, the one that would lead her to the bathroom attached to his suite. It might be tempting to comply with his suggestion, to get away from his choking presence, at least for a little bit, but the appeal of the enclosed space might be lessened somewhat by two minor details. Firstly, it would place Stella even further away from the door that separated her and Louis from the safety of the rest of the mansion, away from this sacred space where no one but Louis would enter. And secondly, even if Louis had stated that she would have the privacy to change, there was no guarantee that he would allow her to change in peace, nor that there would even be a way for her to lock the door separating her from the gaze of her brother.



[/CENTER]
 
So today I bought House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielwski, suggested to me by someone on a RP site, and have yet to start it.  Curiously I started to skim through the pages &...
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I have not made up my mind if it's a good thing or a bad thing that the dramatic visuals remind me of my ([pre]teenage, even current) personal journals entries; though most of mine were done intentionally to serve just that purpose, I'm not so sure these were the intentions of the origins in which constructed this into a book.

In a unity of excitement and a bit of apprehension, I look forward to start this book sooner rather than later.
 
Ever since I relocated to NC —for school— from NY I've endured mild doses of culture shock. People are nice in NC, even when their intentions are less than friendly; version of an insult is "oh, did you see that? That Joe fella didn't mow his lawn? Hmm.", never in a rush, willing to hold the door open for strangers. The largest compare and contrast came from spending the past weekend at Carolina Rebellion. New York would have weekend festivals such as these under different names, such as Big Day Out.

NY had metal detectors at the entrance, NC did not. In the mosh pits in NY, people will kick you when you're down; in NC, people will rush to help you up. NY would never have a ferris wheel at the event, NC had one.

The only thing that remains the same is in crowd surfing: girls get groped and guys get punched. Yeah, not for meh, never done it, never will. T'was a great show, quite nostalgic for me. Korn, Marilyn Manson, and Slipknot were incredible! The only thing that would have made it better is if Avenged Sevenfold was there— and some classical or opera music, but not acceptable at such a place.

The place did not even serve wine. I resorted to cranberry and vodka. When I drink consecutive days my articulation depresses and I explore the possibilities of subjects and topics: online I use an annoying amount of '/'s to define multiple meanings of what I'm trying to say and In person I use the word 'or' to do the same thing. I applied this for things to do while riding the ferris wheel. Not bad ideas. Not good ideas either.

As for school, finals are this week -__- but hey, I've decided that there is no way I can tack on another summer semester. I need a break.
 
RE: Wavers of Reality — [& Journal] — [Comments Are Kewl]

I am so stubborn that sometimes I do not realize how stubborn I am. I will ignore someone's requests or desires on the sake of not giving them what they want, especially if they ask for it whilst have an attitude problem. A part of me is aware what is going on, that I know what I'm doing, but I am too stubborn to address it.

I think for myself; I am my own judge and know how to stand on my own two feet. I'm simply aware of what works for me.
 
The best worst intro for a porn:
http://lisards.tumblr.com/post/117479898965/greatjaggi-this-is-actually-the-best-intro-to-a


I shall respond to RPs today and tomorrow. :)

Edit add: My last post for Killers Affair may be a smidgen too dark for a select bunch of people, I myself was even hiding behind my palm, peering though my fingers, for a portion of the parts I wrote.
 
I feel bad for anyone that is afraid to be sad or thinks they have to be happy in order to live.

There are a mass of emotions and feelings aside from pleasure and happiness that build a good and strong character. That also applies to those who think they have to be pretty or handsome in order to be beautiful.

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RE: Wavers of Reality — [& Journal] — [Comments Are Kewl]

The main reason any man is mean to a woman is because they're afraid of women.
When a person is afraid anything, they either run away from it or they look to bring it down or dominate it because that's the cheap way out. That gives the illusion of fearlessness, but it's false.
Most men haven't been encouraged to get in touch with or express their feminine side that they all have and since it takes one to know one, they never know a female on a deep or personal level.
When a society brings men up to ignore their own feminine side, they are teaching men to ignore females all together. When a man is taught to disregard all of his feminine side wants and needs, he never learns how to treat a woman by her wants or needs.
 
My mother flew down to visit me over the weekend and I've been calling my her 'Mum', took her to the Outback (her fav place) one of the nights and spoke in a (probably def bad) Australian accent the entire night, and having a grand ol' time.
My mum always nit-picks at my health food. One thing she did this time was hold up a clear storage container of goji berries from my kitchen counter and asked me if it was cat food; and purchases some chemical/fake food to intentionally leave here that I will not eat.
I always propose configurations for my family to relocate down here to the warmer weather, with me. Because I guess I'm selfish, and lonely without them. It's not tangible due to mass family situations.
I guess it's a balance.

Tonight at a BBQ gathering, a friend ******* still to this day desperately wonders why I will not fuck her, when every time I've been around her she talks about having a UTI... and how she gets them more often than not; which I suspect she thinks it's justified by claiming her doctor says it's from not urinating after sex. .... and she wonders why.


 
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