Post by ShadaAntoinette on May 25, 2010 0:23:57 GMT -5
Lief and his women appeared then, along with a tall, dark haired man. Either Shada was delirious from blood loss, or the man was really that beautiful...she wasn't sure. She was beginning to lose consciousness, her vision fuzzy and unfocused. She swooned, but tried in vain to stay awake. She listened as tentatively as she could to what was happening.
"This is Azazel, he is one of my best friends and he will be staying with us for a while. And since you won, Princess, I have decided to keep you both. I am very proud of the both of you." He put his arm around Miranda, who looked like she was going to tear Lief's arm off.
Shada couldn't hold out anymore, her eyes rolled back and she felt, and heard no more.
"Aww, Lief you insufferable asshole, you totally ignored the fact that she was injured. You know she isn't Immortal like the rest of us." Azazel said, lifting the Princess from the ground where she had fallen.
"Eh... she is of little consequence to me." Lief shrugged, leading the Princess' friend away from the scene. He was going to feast tonight.
"But Lief... I want to make sure she's all right!" The enchanting woman said.
"Oh, but I have something better, if you will give me a chance." He gave the woman a winsome smile and looked back to wink at his friend. Disgusted, Azazel shook his head. She was not someone he would want to consort himself, he could just tell. Just by looking at her... and that was a feat, even for him.
"All right, so point me in the direction of her room, and I will make sure she's all right." Azazel told his friend. Lief off- handedly pointed up the stairs, and one of the women gave him directions. He took the stairs lightly, as not to jar the pretty, yet badly injured woman he held in his arms. Gods, but she was beautiful... he couldn't help but watch her face as she slept. Her long black eye lashes lay on her cheekbones nicely... why did he feel like he knew her face? Like he knew someone else with a similar face... and couldn't place it. Instead of dwelling on that, he kicked open her door and took her inside, laying her in the bed and ordering the women to clean her up and make her as comfortable as possible. He just felt like he owed her that at least. That last fight had almost done her in, and from watching, he had seen her power and respected her as a warrior, though by looking at her, she didn't look the part, not in the least.
He waited in the hall for the women to finish cleaning and dressing the wound as well as her body before going back in. There had to be something he could do for her. She was Mortal, and she didn't deserve to die because Lief didn't care about her. The blond man had told him as much while they were watching the challenge. But even Lief had to admit that the Princess was a way better fighter than her friend, Lief's prize.
He grimaced just thinking about it as he approached the bed. She lay peacefully against the pillows, which looked stark against her darker skin tone. She was something, if not a spitfire. She might not have said much, but judging by the way her more powerful form acted, he could tell. He pressed a fang against his finger tip and dripped a spot of blood into her wound, which closed instantly, without harming her in any way. He could have Turned her, but without her consent, she would be nothing but a mindless savage, and he didn't want that for her. He didn't know why, but he didn't. Instead, he sat in a chair by her bedside and waited patiently for her to wake up.
"This is Azazel, he is one of my best friends and he will be staying with us for a while. And since you won, Princess, I have decided to keep you both. I am very proud of the both of you." He put his arm around Miranda, who looked like she was going to tear Lief's arm off.
Shada couldn't hold out anymore, her eyes rolled back and she felt, and heard no more.
"Aww, Lief you insufferable asshole, you totally ignored the fact that she was injured. You know she isn't Immortal like the rest of us." Azazel said, lifting the Princess from the ground where she had fallen.
"Eh... she is of little consequence to me." Lief shrugged, leading the Princess' friend away from the scene. He was going to feast tonight.
"But Lief... I want to make sure she's all right!" The enchanting woman said.
"Oh, but I have something better, if you will give me a chance." He gave the woman a winsome smile and looked back to wink at his friend. Disgusted, Azazel shook his head. She was not someone he would want to consort himself, he could just tell. Just by looking at her... and that was a feat, even for him.
"All right, so point me in the direction of her room, and I will make sure she's all right." Azazel told his friend. Lief off- handedly pointed up the stairs, and one of the women gave him directions. He took the stairs lightly, as not to jar the pretty, yet badly injured woman he held in his arms. Gods, but she was beautiful... he couldn't help but watch her face as she slept. Her long black eye lashes lay on her cheekbones nicely... why did he feel like he knew her face? Like he knew someone else with a similar face... and couldn't place it. Instead of dwelling on that, he kicked open her door and took her inside, laying her in the bed and ordering the women to clean her up and make her as comfortable as possible. He just felt like he owed her that at least. That last fight had almost done her in, and from watching, he had seen her power and respected her as a warrior, though by looking at her, she didn't look the part, not in the least.
He waited in the hall for the women to finish cleaning and dressing the wound as well as her body before going back in. There had to be something he could do for her. She was Mortal, and she didn't deserve to die because Lief didn't care about her. The blond man had told him as much while they were watching the challenge. But even Lief had to admit that the Princess was a way better fighter than her friend, Lief's prize.
He grimaced just thinking about it as he approached the bed. She lay peacefully against the pillows, which looked stark against her darker skin tone. She was something, if not a spitfire. She might not have said much, but judging by the way her more powerful form acted, he could tell. He pressed a fang against his finger tip and dripped a spot of blood into her wound, which closed instantly, without harming her in any way. He could have Turned her, but without her consent, she would be nothing but a mindless savage, and he didn't want that for her. He didn't know why, but he didn't. Instead, he sat in a chair by her bedside and waited patiently for her to wake up.
