1. - Top - End - #62
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    Worlok's Avatar

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Where some might have expected and espoused more in the way of countenance, Faruq now couldn't help but let go of a share of his self-control for a short while and count himself among the laughing half of the gathering. Something about that flippant, dearly unimpressed and clearly quite devastating comment the Prince had made, along with his notable smile and obvious insight into the affairs of Kirsch and Forrest had put his sputtering, rambling mind at ease for a mere second, taken the tension away just once, even put that proverbially short fuse of his out for a spell, and it had been enough to push what had been but a forced, if well-portrayed facsimile over into a far more genuine positivity. It was a sort of stress-relief, is what I'm saying here.

    We's definitely cool, Old Goblin. Small, crotchety and strangely-smelling as you are. he thought, in between memorising those exact looks on his sire's and the German's faces, flashing a broad, gloating smirk their ways and biting back wave after wave of throaty, raucous, evil laughter he so dearly wanted to let out, where so far, he only allowed himself a low, weasely snicker - because while the agressions, frustrations and rages within his heart had certainly been redirected, they had not been snuffed out: See? See me laughing in your faces here? You failures told me I should try to not make an ass of myself, and now -you- are the butts of the joke, -you- are the ones that have made the mistakes, and I -have- made asses. Of -you-! You like that, huh? Me winning once again? Me being cool with the Old Goblin while you're laughing-stock for everybody else? Say, Melly, hope that you get a good reading in, here, because this? This right here? This is -me- making this pleasant. For everyone except -you-! And you better believe there's more where this comes from! This in my eyes? This is me lording it over you, and this is the social part of your destiny travelling -really- fast! Bitches, let it be known that Faruq al-Assad just won again!

    He almost felt like dancing, reining himself in only when he remembered that he was still at a life-or-death-trial here - No, flipping the two senior Ventrue off, casually and sneaky-like while nobody else was looking, would have to suffice for the here and now. Or maybe for the later, somewhere else. Or for the ne'er, the nowhere, and the not at all. ...the -HELL-? Why am I not enjoying this as much as I should? Why are my middle fingers not firmly facing them right now? Why do I almost feel... There was a strange memory now, of him, throughout the pains of torture, withdrawal, starvation, mockery, and his entire life coming crashing down, still feeling a certain attachment, yes, fondness even, for Melanie, but not in a wholly natural way, rather as if something deep inside him kept trying to convince everything else inside him that she actually wasn't all that horrible. But there were also memories of commands, of helplessness, of being threatened, ultimately murdered, and told that it was his own fault, as he lay beaten, disarmed, half-delirious and dying in his sorry state. Wait. Sorry! That's it! It's pity, is all I'm feelin'. That's all. I pity them. Because I'm a decent person, while she's just a proper bitch, and he's just a poofty Kraut. Exactly that's the way this went, and there's no other. Do not think about it, Faruq. Enjoy this. You have them beat.

    And thus he would, he figured, as he turned his full attention towards this nastily grinning 'Rogan' type, drowning out all thoughts of pity, of fondness, of memories, engaging in the here and now to see what other good he could accomplish there - He was, after all, victorious Faruq al-Assad, who had won at the Ventrue's game without even playing! The conquering Lion and feintful Ferret, the glorious Afghan and jubilant Scot! God's own gift to every woman in the room and center of the universe! Who'd dare to stand against him now? Who could deny his triumph? What jackass could not see His justice served? Who would now still stand besides them, when they have been ridiculed by their very Prince? Who, who, could now still deny that I have been so much smarter, much blessed-er, harder, and tougher, and sexier too, than -them-? WHO COULD NOW -POSSIBLY- STILL DARE TO PISS ON THE NAME OF FARUQ IBN KHALED IBN MOHAMMED AL-ASSAD? WHO WOULD NOW STAND AGAINST -ME-??? BWAHAHA. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Ha. Haha. Ha. Hrmph. Well. Nevermind. Let's never mention that again, and concentrate on this here little trial. Everyone is watching her now, so should I, noone is watching me, because my part is played, and I have won, now time to share the winnings. Yes. Yes, that will be what I shall do. Just to wait for the right opportunity now... Still, the odd giggle or snort escaped him, while he strove to keep his face on straight, and pointedly ignore the Ventrue - Except Erica, who, much like Claire and Danielle and basically everyone, did, after all, also fall into the category of "women in the room which God had blessed with him", and hence deserved a passing glance and fair share of his greatn... Focus! Focus, dammit! This is life or death, Faruq, you're not yet outta hero-tier. But elation, wondrous exaltation, holy-most enrapturement - He'd won! No matter. Watch this, it's about to get interesting, after all. You can always brag and get fresh with folks later on.

    Won.

    Won.

    Won!
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-26 at 12:32 AM. Reason: Old Goblin Spice!