madame moiselle
❁ listening to lullabies ❁
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location: fleur's dorm
mood: intrigued, later irritated,
with: fleur emanuelle caron, kamaria aten
tags:
nymphadora.
erzulie
The first thing Judah noticed was their closeness. This girl definitely wasn't shy when it came to playing a bit risque; Judah found himself hooked onto her every word - the way her lips pouted, the way she pronounced herself in French, the way her very voice sounded like sugary sweet chocolate...
But that was the point, wasn't it? The spell was broken the moment the girl snatched the chocolates from him, winking as she teased him about teaching him some manners. She held his gaze as she mockingly replayed his every move just a few minutes earlier, biting into the chocolate, making Judah almost miss the fact that she had the boxing floating it's way back into a nearby drawer, surrounded in a hazy purple mist.
It was at this point where Judah made the realization that this roommate of his was no human, no vampire even - she was a witch.
And despite the fact that the disdain between werewolves and witches were nowhere near as dire and deeprooted as it was between vampires, Judah knew that his father had a grave hatred for them - and as long as his father was in power, anyone who wasn't one of their own would be considered with hostility and hatred.
This fact burned through Judah - he hated how his every thought and decision had his father's shadow looming over them. The very Academy his father had sent his son to preached tolerance and peace between any and all species, and yet, the last time his father discovered that Judah had a vampire or a witch as roommate, he was livid. This was the first time Judah had a witch as roommate, or as his father would put it, a 'malicious magic mongrel', and Judah couldn't help but admit the idea intrigued him. Especially when that idea was a hot one.
He smirked slightly. "Fair enough," he answered her. "If we're going to have to put up with each other for a year, I guess I should know your na---"
Before he could finish his sentence, Judah's senses picked up the closing of shower water, the creaking of the bathroom door and the pleasing, misty scent of shampoo filtering into the room. His last sense, sight, had picked up the source the last.
Judah didn't know what surprised him more - the fact that his new roommate was a witch, or that Kamaria had just entered the room with nothing more than a towel on from the bathroom, her ink-colored hair wrapped in towel, piled neatly on top of her head, her expression going from calm and pleased to extreme annoyance and shock at the sight of him. She opened her mouth to retort something, found herself at a loss of words before she too, caught the sight of the floating box being put into the drawer.
“Fleur, haven’t you heard about feeding strays? They never leave and if they do, they always come back,” she remarked sharply, sighing. “Don’t stand too close love, you don’t know if he’s had all of his shot.”
With that, she turned her back to head back into the bathroom, coming out only a minute later, this time fully-clothed and ready to continue her criticism. Judah caught her steely, distasteful glare as she casually observed to her friend, who Judah now knew as Fleur.
Fleur, he tested the name in his thoughts. He knew it was French for flower, even though in all honesty the girl didn't seem anything like what her name suggested; flowers were delicate, pretty little things - and after their flirtatious little exchange, Judah could safely say she was the opposite. He watched in distaste as Kamaria continued, calling Fleur's room now a 'glorified kennel' now that he was here. Which wasn't exactly true; if, however, Kamaria were to know the absolute disorderly state his room was back in Detroit, she'd be right, and most likely faint from the sight of it.
Judah returned her stony glare with one of his own as she sat down on the bed, one leg crossed over the other. Though escalating dispute was the last thing he wanted to do, he wasn't about to let this bitchy elite think for one second that he was afraid of her.
"Don't you have some poor human soul to suck the bloody hell out of?" he muttered back, almost to himself, his arms crossed and leaning against the wall.
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"we hate what we can't understand."
location: fleur's dorm
mood: intrigued, later irritated,
with: fleur emanuelle caron, kamaria aten
tags:
nymphadora.
erzulie
The first thing Judah noticed was their closeness. This girl definitely wasn't shy when it came to playing a bit risque; Judah found himself hooked onto her every word - the way her lips pouted, the way she pronounced herself in French, the way her very voice sounded like sugary sweet chocolate...
But that was the point, wasn't it? The spell was broken the moment the girl snatched the chocolates from him, winking as she teased him about teaching him some manners. She held his gaze as she mockingly replayed his every move just a few minutes earlier, biting into the chocolate, making Judah almost miss the fact that she had the boxing floating it's way back into a nearby drawer, surrounded in a hazy purple mist.
It was at this point where Judah made the realization that this roommate of his was no human, no vampire even - she was a witch.
And despite the fact that the disdain between werewolves and witches were nowhere near as dire and deeprooted as it was between vampires, Judah knew that his father had a grave hatred for them - and as long as his father was in power, anyone who wasn't one of their own would be considered with hostility and hatred.
This fact burned through Judah - he hated how his every thought and decision had his father's shadow looming over them. The very Academy his father had sent his son to preached tolerance and peace between any and all species, and yet, the last time his father discovered that Judah had a vampire or a witch as roommate, he was livid. This was the first time Judah had a witch as roommate, or as his father would put it, a 'malicious magic mongrel', and Judah couldn't help but admit the idea intrigued him. Especially when that idea was a hot one.
He smirked slightly. "Fair enough," he answered her. "If we're going to have to put up with each other for a year, I guess I should know your na---"
Before he could finish his sentence, Judah's senses picked up the closing of shower water, the creaking of the bathroom door and the pleasing, misty scent of shampoo filtering into the room. His last sense, sight, had picked up the source the last.
Judah didn't know what surprised him more - the fact that his new roommate was a witch, or that Kamaria had just entered the room with nothing more than a towel on from the bathroom, her ink-colored hair wrapped in towel, piled neatly on top of her head, her expression going from calm and pleased to extreme annoyance and shock at the sight of him. She opened her mouth to retort something, found herself at a loss of words before she too, caught the sight of the floating box being put into the drawer.
“Fleur, haven’t you heard about feeding strays? They never leave and if they do, they always come back,” she remarked sharply, sighing. “Don’t stand too close love, you don’t know if he’s had all of his shot.”
With that, she turned her back to head back into the bathroom, coming out only a minute later, this time fully-clothed and ready to continue her criticism. Judah caught her steely, distasteful glare as she casually observed to her friend, who Judah now knew as Fleur.
Fleur, he tested the name in his thoughts. He knew it was French for flower, even though in all honesty the girl didn't seem anything like what her name suggested; flowers were delicate, pretty little things - and after their flirtatious little exchange, Judah could safely say she was the opposite. He watched in distaste as Kamaria continued, calling Fleur's room now a 'glorified kennel' now that he was here. Which wasn't exactly true; if, however, Kamaria were to know the absolute disorderly state his room was back in Detroit, she'd be right, and most likely faint from the sight of it.
Judah returned her stony glare with one of his own as she sat down on the bed, one leg crossed over the other. Though escalating dispute was the last thing he wanted to do, he wasn't about to let this bitchy elite think for one second that he was afraid of her.
"Don't you have some poor human soul to suck the bloody hell out of?" he muttered back, almost to himself, his arms crossed and leaning against the wall.
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