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Améa Nedvidek

Narragyambie
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Améa Nedvidek last won the day on June 23

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  • Age
    25
  • Blood Status
    Halfbreed
  • Species
    Sorceraic
  • Pronouns
    She/Her
  • Played By
    Kaya Scodelario
  • Testing
      #FFFFFF

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  • Pronouns
    She/Her
  • Time Zone
    GMT+10:00

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Profile Data

  • Status Counter 4
  • IC Post Count 7
  • Playerx Sadrienne
  • Plot Wants
  • Char DOB Man
  • Char PB Kaya Scodelario
  • Char RAC Sorceraic
  • Char-Job
  • Birthdate Day 23
  • Birthdate Month 10
  • Birthdate Year 1993
  • Unknown Age
  1. Invite Terribly Normal

    Améa's confused and solemn expression warmed at the mention of Nika, as it always did. The unconventional arrangement seemed to be working for all involved, and Nika was happy which was the most important part. There was no question that, being here now, Améa would wait until the children woke up to surprise them and spend some time before she returned home. Améa nodded with a smile still on her lips. While adjusting to being with her family again had been a rough road, the children made it all worthwhile. Their willingness to simply accept her as she was, the fact there was no bad blood already between them. That had made it easier. And even this here, an early morning cup of tea with Jezebel---these were rewards she had not expected to find along the way. It may have been panic and confusion that had driven her here, but it had driven her here. To her sister, to talk about the normal sorts of things that sisters talked about. The feeling in her chest was warm, fuzzy, and dangerously close to happiness. That always scared her. She had begun to connect with Jezebel properly, had a special friendship with Vladimir... was she allowed to have this much? Améa tried not to think about that. "It is all silly dreams in any matter," she said with a shake of her head. The idea that she could be allowed to be happy with Vladimir was a little preposterous, and hinged very absolutely on whether he would ever feel the same. Best to chalk it all up to stupid lust, bodily urges that were determined to be as inconvenient as possible. Anything else was just too tricky to even entertain. "I am glad for you being mine sister," Améa added, the open acknowledgement of their shared blood unusual enough. The warmth and genuine affection in her tone just made it all the stranger. But pleasant. Her time back in Narrie had definitely had a positive effect. Which brought her to another matter of concern, and one she had puzzled on since that night at Adele's house. Améa herself had been distant and bitter when she first came to Narrie all those years ago, and over time she had found her place. Lauren had a long way to go, but... was there a way they could make it smoother for her? "It is needed I make up for hurts to our young sister," she said softly. "Heal what is been broken, help her too find family. I---is not being sure what for start with."
  2. Invite Reflection & Seduction

    Was she even breathing? The music faded away, but her rapture did not. The world was so small and so perfect, she couldn't take her eyes away for fear of letting reality back in. Even Faireth, cosied up on her knee, was forgotten for a time. This moment belonged to them, the bond so intense and so strong and so real. At any other time, with any other person, such prolonged eye contact would be weird and uncomfortable. There was no hiding here, either. Améa had reached a point beyond concealing herself from Vladimir. She made no effort to obscure her pure love of his music, and whatever else that she harboured there but feared to name. Very few saw her this expressive. Almost none saw her in this state of true happiness. Her dreams may have plagued her with unwanted desires, but the truth was that she was awed by him. He called her "my dear" and those two words made her heart sing. Had she not been frozen in place by his gaze, she might have stood---rushed forward to embrace him. Crashed into that strong body, laced her fingers between his---worshipped them for the magic and the music that they made. Zane's strength had been false. She knew that now. A farce held up by pain, he "proved" his strength with a fist. Vladimir did not need to. Vladimir did not crumble, he did not lose himself if she said the wrong thing, made a wrong step. And he wove beauty from wood and strings. Zane had never made music. Zane had never made anything beautiful for her. Not even herself, and not even as she dedicated every moment to him. Her every breath. That devotion had nearly brought about her end, she had thought that a mere and expected consequence of love. Yet her connection to Vladimir was as strong, arguably stronger than that she had felt to Zane. She did not feel depleted in his presence, she felt energised. Améa's mouth parted a little, breathing in as still she stared back into his eyes. She wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know that when he spoke, her heart skittered a little. That she never felt more secure than when he was near. That the best part of waking up was rushing to his room, and seeing him again. That for all the flaws he hated in himself, he was impossibly perfect in her eyes, that she would quite happily spend the rest of her life reminding him that he was no monster. He was her Vladimir, protector and friend, and no one would ever be able to convince her otherwise. The words bubbled to the surface, her thighs tensed ready to stand and let it all out----but Vladimir spoke first. And the moment was gone. Instead she nodded, certain before the first note even sounded that it would be to her liking. She relaxed again, the words settling back into feelings, admiration and awe. Gods, but if only she wasn't married.
  3. Invite Reflection & Seduction

    Améa was not familiar with the music by its name. She knew the names of very few pieces, and when she did know what they were called, always found the names paled in comparison to the stories told within the notes. Nor was she particularly familiar with much music outside of what Vladimir played, what was popular around town. The majority of the music she knew was songs of her homeland, pieces entirely unknown here. She would have to start bringing Vladimir sheets to play, she still had them. Back at home. Locked away where the poor violin had been. From the first note she was spellbound. This was normal. Even Faireth stopped her fussing, allowed Améa to absently pat her while the two of them watched Vladimir play with quiet intensity. The long, dulcet tones wrapped around her, the world outside their rooftop seemed to fade away. Sollozzo could have walked up behind her and she would not have noticed, so completely enthralled was she in the music. Watching Vladimir's body as he moved with it, feeling his heart and soul sing between the strings. Melancholic, longing, a delicate dance of desire and hope, fear and caution. She did not know what the piece was called, no. But she knew that it reflected well enough the internal battle that kept her awake long after dark. Did he fight the same battle? She had asked that he play his heart... was this some clue, that he watched her with the same thoughts as she watched him? No---Améa knew she couldn't even begin to let her mind wander down that track. And Vladimir was far too polite for such thoughts. He was her good friend, her protector, and she was a mite confused and (ahem) thirsty with all that had happened over the past twelve months. Vladimir was a man of honour. She couldn't imagine him being driven by such base wants. Captivated, she watched, listened, eyes locked onto Vladimir and almost unblinking. A profound love of music, something else, or... both?
  4. Invite Terribly Normal

    By law, Améa knew she didn't have to. Her personal code was far stricter than the law, though. Laws could be broken when it was required, but her own code could not. And like Jezebel, Améa had seen the dark side of broken vows. And sexual thirst. Adele's quest for blind intimacy and satisfaction had driven her to marry Thomas, and when he was not enough, sought out others too. That had been the beginning of all of this. Thomas was not the first she had done this too either, only the most dangerous to date. Not an example she wanted to follow. Jezebel was not helping as she detailed the insight that Viktor (and therefore, Vladimir) had in those matters. Améa knew well enough the benefits of heightened senses, a previous relationship with a full vampire had been quite educational. Though she had assumed that Vladimir would be gifted in that manner, the confirmation put a significant dent in her resolve. Could she? Should she? Just once? No. "I want for sharing all things with Vladimir," she said, as though this were--or should have been--obvious. "Vladimir is mine good friend, he is protect me and I is protect Vladimir." So she supposed that made sense enough. Her bond with Vladimir was based in trust and it stood to reason that with the feeling of safety she felt near him, such thoughts could creep in. Yes, that was logical. She wasn't so preoccupied with whatever horrible thing might come next, and so her mind was free to wander and think about other needs that she had. She wished it bloody wouldn't. Jezebel's solution might be her best bet. She didn't like it, but she had to do something. Améa took another scone. "It is must do until mine husband is ended," she added with a soft sigh. Because that was the only way out, in her mind. Only until death could she truly part.
  5. Invite Reflection & Seduction

    And that was it, the violin was being restored. Améa pushed back her unease over the project, better to leave it in Vladimir's capable hands. At least once restored, it could be put away properly, preserved in absolute perfection. She liked the idea of that. She could not part with it, but perhaps a case and display worthy of the violin's beauty, that would be a fitting tribute. Maybe one day, it wouldn't hurt so much to look at it. She followed him back out to the yard, the matter settled. Though she still had half a mind to find her grandmother, demand to know who and why and what on earth they thought they were doing bringing it here, that anger could wait. This afternoon was for music. Faireth circled around her ankles, and she bent down to scoop up the kitten-sized cat just seconds before Vladimir spirited all three up to the rooftop. An experience the cat did not appreciate all that much, though Améa simply shook off the uncomfortable prickling of wizard magic from her system. Perching herself comfortably on the rise of the roof, she settled Faireth into her lap, stroking her fair white coat as she stared intently at Vladimir. "I wish for to hear you play your heart," she said. Essentially whatever felt best, whatever best represented Vladimir's state of being. The cat purred under her attentions, nestling in against the fabric of her skirt as Vladimir prepared to play. The afternoon was nice, so clear and quiet. From here Améa could spot Mary's cabin, most of the animals she tended, and well out toward the township of Narrie, across the flat earth. It wasn't the storeys-high view from Tallygarunga, but it was still nice. "Play for me what you is feel."
  6. Invite Terribly Normal

    "Separate or in same room, married is be married," Améa said with an air of finality. She had made vows, and vows were not to be broken. To death the vows had said, and while she knew she couldn't go back, did she still intend to be loyal? That wasn't something she had even considered. The prospect of breaking those vows was abhorrent to her, but did she really plan to wait until Zane reached the end of his life to move on? It seemed the only solution. Divorce was as sour a word as adultery. "I do not want for wanting it," the last was said with an irritated huff. None of this would be a problem if she wasn't having these dreams, and these urges. Whether it was normal or health, Améa didn't care. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to go back to the time where it was purely functional, not wrapped up in all of these confusing feelings and curiosities. She understood that. Besides, doing such things to further her own happines... that didn't seem right either. But if she wasn't married? If Jezebel's hypothetical was the reality... what would she do? Améa chewed at her bottom lip, deep in thought. "If it is no consequence," she started slowly. "If still Vladimir be mine friend after, if he does want for same---I think then maybe I try," a blush crept up her neck again and an anxious giggle bubbled out of her mouth. "Know for if talented hands make for same music in me as in instrument." Did she want more though? That was hard to answer. What more could there be? What they had was rather wonderful, why risk anything else? Especially when there was her married status in the way, the looming shadow of Zane and his family. And there were other things. Important things, that Améa knew would be an issue in any future they had. Like the fact that he would be a wonderful father, deserved a family of his own, and she still steadfastly swore that she would be no true mother. The blush returned at Jezebel's offer. She wasn't sure what to say. Thank you? Scream and run out the door? "Not is not ready," Améa corrected her instead. "Is not right."
  7. Invite Reflection & Seduction

    The violin was--or had been--a masterpiece. Lovingly hand-crafted, a one-of-a-kind work made specifically for Améa. It had been beautiful, once. Now it was the sad and neglected reminder of the father who had it made for her, simple, elegant, clean and with no effort spared in selecting the finest materials and adjusting for the sweetest sound. It had been her absolute joy, this violin. She had never seen another that compared, though even the most perfect of examples would always pale in her eyes against the one she had loved so much. Seeing it here and now, in the harsh daylight, she realised how broken it had become. She hadn't loved it enough. She had let it die, like she had her father. Of course, Vladimir didn't know how it got here. Améa wasn't sure why she had asked, except to vent the burst of anger. This had her mothers' family written all over it, specifically her grandmother. What was she playing at now? Améa was sick of the games. Seeing Vladimir handle the instrument, her heart twisted. How could she have done this? Perhaps it was only a violin, an object, a thing in the world, but the way Vladimir cradled it, the way he looked down as if it were a wounded animal, she felt remorse for what he saw. "Mine father had this made for me," she said after a long and sad moment. "I do not play now." And he knew why, too. When he asked if he could restore it, Améa fought back the urge to snatch it from his hands. No. He was being kinder to the violin than she had in many years, she had no right to do that. An instrument like this deserved... better. So she nodded, she would allow him to restore it. That at least seemed appropriate. The next was a flutter of confused delight as he uttered the words "my dear", quickly followed by a deep uncertainty. Be there when it was repaired? For what reason? Would he need her assistance in the task? Did she have to? Maybe it would be better just to lock it away again... but still... it would mean more time with Vladimir. Watching him work. Talking about music. Listening to music. Feeling safe and happy and connected and did it even matter if the violin was a part of it? She was curious as to how Vladimir went about restoring instruments anyway, it wasn't like she would be playing it, and this way she would be able to ensure that the finished result was worthy of her father. "Even if you go to depths of hell, mine Vladimir, for any reason I will go with---only need is you want for me there," she said with a half smile. "If mine company is your desire, this I give in you working."
  8. Invite Terribly Normal

    Yes. That was the word she was trying to avoid. Améa visibly flinched at the sound of it, so vulgar. Jezebel's mention of Viktor being attentive hadn't missed her attention either, she was actively trying to push away any further wonderings on that particular subject. Vladimir was, after all, the sort who did not leave a job done in half---nor could one fault his attention to detail. It would certainly be a different experience compared to her husband, whose primary aim had been to fill his own needs and if that happened to coincide with her own, that was convenient. It was bound to be a very thorough experience with someone like Vladimir. This curiosity was new to her. By and large, she saw sex as a functional thing. You could make new people with it, or you could trade it for something you needed. Or, if you were married, it was a part of the things that couples did. Prude though she could be, Améa wasn't shy when it had purpose like that. But to daydream about someone? To imagine such things with them, to wonder constantly about the reality? That made no sense to her. And there was no obvious advantage to be gained from that sort of intimacy with Vladimir aside from simply doing it. It was wrong. "I do not know if anything else I want, anything else I cannot think about," she frowned. "And every case, Jezebel, I am married. Is not appropriate. Vladimir is mine good friend, he does make safe feeling again---I reward this with make target for mine husband and uncle? No. Is not for worth, just because I be... what you did say." Améa buried the distress in a scone heaped with jam and cream. Bad move. Cream and jam flew across the table, Améa spluttering and spitting in the wake of Jezebel's suggestion. Was her sister really talking about that? It was the height of pointless self-indulgent exercises. She shook her head, clearly she hadn't tried that particular method. "That is only way to make dream go away?" she asked, hoping for another answer.
  9. Invite Terribly Normal

    "No, they are not the separate!" Améa's voice turned to a squeak in her embarassment. How could Jezebel say it so casually? "In dream, Vladimir is there and play me like cello!" It was too much. Améa's ears were so red, and so hot, she feared they were going to burn. She had spent a terrible amount of time lately watching and listening to him play. But mostly watching his fingers move, the self-assured strength as they travelled up and down the instrument. The absolute precision and delicacy of the movements, so fast in places---but slow and sensual in others. At this point there was little Vladimir could do that Améa didn't link to less child-friendly thoughts, but it happened most when he was playing music. "It is not much of fair," Améa said with a frown. "Vladimir worth much and more than these thoughts," Améa froze as she realised that she had also now admitted to the waking thoughts as well as the dreams. "But... is all can be thinking of. Sometimes am miss Zane too, but mostly am just..." Améa tilted her head awkwardly, not wanting to say the word. To be so preoccupied with one thing like this, it was disgusting to her. It made her worry that she would end up on the same path as Adele, driven and owned by that need for closeness. Also, it was quite embarassing. "If Vladimir not always around, then maybe just dreams it is---but he there, and think maybe it is he become in part of it because he close by," she explained, quite certain in her belief that it was simply a matter of Vladimir being the closest eligible bachelor that had caused her dreams and daydreams to fixate on him. It probably could have been anyone and that's what bothered her most. All for the sake of a biological desire that paraded around like a desperate need. "How fix, Jezebel? Want for making dream stop."
  10. Invite Reflection & Seduction

    With her limitations lifted, there was no longer a need to be constantly under guard. The sudden freedom of being able to move as she wished, and to be left alone at times, had taken some time in getting used to. It had become an odd feeling to realise that none of her blood family were within yelling distance, and while she still enjoyed the quiet solitude as she always had, it was no longer as preferable to be alone. She found she'd become so used to knowing that Stuart or Mary, Jezebel or Adele were just around one corner or the next, that it was weird to know that they no longer were. Always ready to move if she needed them, but not as physically close as they had been since the Unwedding. She had spent the morning tending to her share of the animals on the property. Now that she had the size and strength to do more jobs, more jobs she had been given. She enjoyed it. Améa had never shirked any mud or smell, or avoided a job that needed doing. The animals were perfect company, and she had a way with them that she had never had with people. Animals did not judge your clumsy use of a strange language, and so she babbled to them almost constantly as she worked. Sometimes in English, sometimes in her more comfortable native tongue. Today she worked and talked doubly fast, looking forward to Vladimir's promise to play for her. Always thorough, she promised each and every one of her animal friends that she would tell them all about it when she next did her rounds. Perhaps they would even hear it from where they were, she said. They were definitely in for a treat, Vladimir was extremely talented. Returning to the house, her expression brightened visibly on seeing Vladimir with his instrument. She wiped her hands across her long skirt, aware of the muck and grime that had attached itself to her as she worked. Améa gave an embarrassed half-laugh, though the prospect of a rooftop concert was utterly thrilling. And sweet of him, too, to remember her love of heights and the nights where his music had first carried her through deep sadness. "I am very mess, will you allow for me to change?" she asked, but it wasn't really a question. Now that her work was done, she wanted to be clean again. With a broad smile, she ducked in toward the house, fetching towels along the way as though she'd lived here all her life and felt utterly comfortable in every way. At least, until the quiet serenity of the shower brought her mind back to some awkward scenes in her latest dreams, and she realised that this was the first time that she and Vladimir were entirely alone together. Was this wise? What if those impulses got the better of her? It was, she told herself, simply the absence of Zane in her life that had caused this. Poor Vladimir had become the target by proximity, she hoped he had not noticed. With no outlet to sate her appetite, it had simply gotten... well. Worse. She had seen the same happen to Adele over the years, starved of those particular attentions, there was very little her mother would not reach for. That was how Lauren had happened. Améa was better than that. Améa would not, could not use Vladimir in such a way. He deserved more, and far better than just that. The dreams disgusted her in a way. Still, she had found it difficult lately to be near Vladimir and not be reminded of those vivid scenes. Not be curious about the reality. She had caught herself staring, stopped her hands and the words just seconds before they left her lips. Was it really a good idea to be alone with him? The question played on her mind, stepping into her room to dress. She saw the bed, and the present left upon it. A sudden fury burned away all of the complex questions, she dressed herself hastily and stormed out to the hallway. "Who is leave this here?" she yelled, to Vladimir or to the empty air---it was hard to tell. "Who is bring this here? Who is that did bring. this. here?!" an angry arm pointed into her bedroom, and the offending item laid upon her bed. Still covered in dust, inches thick. Strings worn and warped, dulled with neglect and in need of loving restoration. Her once-treasured violin.
  11. Invite Terribly Normal

    "Nothing big is happen, no. All are well," Améa got that out before she followed Jezebel down to the living room. The distress was her own entirely, and this was important to start with. There were so many other, much worse, things that could have gone wrong after all. She didn't want to worry Jezebel, in the grand scheme of things... this really wasn't anything. Just a little personal problem. The mention of Mary's scones made her light up, she had become very fond of the elder woman's baking. From a stubborn refusal to eat, to a ravenous and enthusiastic appetite whenever Mary called for dinner, and doubly so if there was dessert on the table. The change in Améa had been vast in some places. Mary's experience with frightened and wounded animals had clearly proven useful. Améa nodded, not only would the scones be delicious---she realised she was hungry. "Once I did see shop say they best in scone making," she said solemnly, "Why is allowed for lying? None is can be better than Mrs Mary!" This Améa believed with the utmost seriousness. She was offended that anyone would even try to compare their own baking to the obvious one true goddess of the kitchen. Améa was prepared to go to war over Mary's baking prowess. The subtleties of advertising were a little beyond Améa's very direct thought processes, and she'd very near marched into the bakery to declare a duel for the title of "best scones". She took a seat, and a moment to smooth a hand over her hair, tidying it up. Améa looked strong again, and the magic came back easily. At first the feeling had scared her, but now it felt normal again. "I am have dreams, Jezebel," she said in a hushed tone, as if what she were about to say were so utterly scandalous it should never be said aloud. "Of making intercourse and Vladimir!"
  12. Invite Terribly Normal

    Sometimes, it was clear Améa got her manners from their grandmother. Front doors were inconvenient, so she brought herself into the hallway of Jezebel's house, still dressed in her long-sleeved nightgown and seemingly unaware that it was barely after dawn. The bleary look in her eyes gave away that she had only just woken, her hair braided but untidy, and a thread of uncertain panic surrounded her. Shock. Disgust. Not fear, nor terror, and while her emotional state was clearly frazzled, it did still carry the overall sense that this was something very particular and personal to Améa herself. The family was not in trouble, but something was definitely troubling Améa. So much so that she found herself here, thundering barefoot down Jezebel's hallways, to knock urgently on her sister's bedroom door. Why Jezebel? Why here? And why at such an ungodly hour? Améa needed answers, she knew that much. She wasn't sure what the question was, though. Or how to deal with any of it. Jezebel... seemed to know more about the world than she did. That, or there was some underlying desire to be connected as sisters in the most mundane of ways, though Améa would never allow herself to admit that truth. Jezebel was the logical person to go to. That made more sense than being the person she wanted to go to. "Jezebel! Jezebel? Are you wake?" she called through the door amid her insistent knocking. She was breathless and confused, bouncing on her toes with desperate impatience. "It is Ruella. Are you wake?"
  13. Invite Torch The Moon

    The flutter of panic that started as Vladimir broke the contact was quickly soothed, and she waited patiently as he moved to a more comfortable position for the both of them. It was certainly less awkward than the leaned-over embrace of before. Améa felt herself easily fit into place against him, ear pressed against his chest to listen to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, his heartbeat, and the subtle movement of blood beneath his skin. If this was the one and the only time she would allow herself this close, Améa was resolved to take advantage of the break in her self-enforced isolation. Just for a few hours couldn't hurt. She had often lain in this same way with Zane, listening to his existence. In those moments, she had never feared the world outside the walls. She had barely known it enough to form such a fear, but Zane's changeable nature had made it difficult to relax. Every action she made, every word she spoke, carefully measured and evaluated for the reaction it might trigger. She had always slept lightly, ready to jump back to action for whatever Zane needed. It hadn't always been terror and fear, but it had been long years of tension and constant vigilance. Exhausting. Today, the world outside was full of new and terrible possibilities. Every mortal she knew and loved was at risk, though simple immortality would not save even her sorceraic family members from the scars of torture if it came to that. Sollozzo knew too much about all of that, and Améa knew from her own experience the sheer agony he could inflict. And still her eyes closed and her shoulders softened, what wakefulness she had left sucked away as Vladimir's arms reminded her she was safe. She didn't have to be alert. She could rest. Almost immediately she began to drift away, but not before murmuring a slurred "thank you" to Vladimir. Across the room, the door nudged open slightly, allowing in Améa's other faithful companion: the white runt of a cat that had never really grown much bigger than a kitten. Spotting Améa, the cat crossed the room and jumped up onto the bed, curling up atop Vladimir and nestled in against Améa with a high-pitched purr. And the door remained ajar ever so slightly, framing for any who might glance through, the three of them resting in an uncharacteristic (and entirely innocent) picture of closeness. An unexpectedly sweet ending to a tragic night.
  14. Invite Torch The Moon

    The sun was rising. Vladimir's assurances soothed her, but the sun was rising. An all-too-soon reminder of how fast a moment could leave, and as the first light filtered through Vladimir's window, she felt a sudden thick dread that this moment would vanish with the morning's dew. She had not had a moment like this in so awfully long. Améa knew she was not short of opportunities to connect more deeply with her family, she knew it was her own fault whenever she felt isolated. Améa knew, contrary to what she showed, that if she took so much as a half-step toward them, her family would welcome her with all the warmth she longed for. And yet, she could not. Would not? It always felt so wrong when she tried. The voice that lurked and reminded her she was the keeper, the watcher. That her place was not to be part of this world, but to shape it. Bethianna's teachings had kept her to the sidelines until Lillian's intervention. Much, she realised, like Lauren must have been. Watching her own family like fish in a bowl, removing threats and keeping their water clean. What had Lauren done in the name of her duty? Améa felt sick to wonder. Her eyes widened with another gut-wrenching thought. Not for what Lauren had done, but for what she obviously hadn't done. Améa's early years had been little else but cleaning up Adele's messes after her father died, and surely Sollozzo was one such mess? Bethianna and Lillian both claimed to their need to be impartial, but Lauren? That was different. Like herself, Lauren should have been sworn to the protection of Adele. Of Caleb, and little David. Was it Lauren's plan that their lives should be disrupted over and over by Sollozzo? Slowly broken down bit by bit, until there was no more? Améa could imagine no other reason why the clearly quite powerful, and knowing young girl could have left such an obvious threat survive. Had they just let a snake into their family, under the guise of a lost loved one? Améa began to tremble, though with fear or anger she wasn't sure. What she was sure of, though, was that she wasn't prepared to go out into the kitchen just yet. She wasn't prepared to leave this moment just yet. For as long as it would last, she would cling to it, a moment to look back on and remember that brief sense of connection and genuine comfort. Once she left this room, would she allow herself this again? Would he allow her this close again? The exhaustion was catching up to her, too. One way or another, by waking or sleeping, the moment was going to end. "No, I would like for staying... if this does be your liking," she murmured. A small yawn escaped her mouth, and along with it a request she had no time to stop before it was out. "You will not let go if I do sleep?" her cheeks flushed a sudden and deep red, though her intent was innocent. Her heartbeat thudded loud in her chest, now desperately afraid Vladimir would have the wrong idea. She stammered awkwardly before continuing. "It is I think maybe I do sleep well, and you be needing of rest too, this way is... feel safe?" her eyebrow raised, hoping he understood. She didn't want to let go.
  15. Invite Torch The Moon

    She couldn't imagine that Vladimir could ever have done something so terrible that he would disqualify himself from starting a family. It didn't occur to Améa that he was thinking the same of her. Immediately, defenses for his actions bubbled to her lips: it was different if the person was trying to take away what you loved. He had been protecting life, and she had no doubt that he would have continued that path even if it did take his own. And then---could not the same be said of herself? Yes, she had taken her father's life. The red mark that she could never scrub from her soul, but even she knew it had not been for nothing. In the last days, he had been quite mad. Sworn to vengeance at any cost, against Adele -- to whom Améa had no strong affection, but a near-unbreakable sense of duty. How many plans had she thwarted before she realised she had to deal with the source? How many times had she put off the deed, hoping he would return to rationality and they could go back to simpler lives, ignoring Adele's very existence? In the end, Améa had been the only light in his life. Everything else had been twisted dark by his grief and anger. Perhaps the truth was that she hadn't killed him, but set him free. Yet, her guilt and sorrow would never allow her to accept that. It felt a weak justification for the emptiness it had brought to her world. He had deserved more. So much more. More surprises were on the way though, Vladimir's arms suddenly around her---and she didn't fight it. She didn't want to. Adele had never been overly affectionate with her, and Jez and Stuart tried---only to get repeatedly pushed back. Mary persisted, as grandmothers are wont, and Améa often allowed it out of respect for the woman. This was different still. Whether it was the weirdness of the night, the depth of their conversation, or just the bond that had built up in their time spent together---this was more than tolerable. It was comforting. Améa let herself relax against him, even tightened her arms about his shoulders. "Mr Stuart is good, and very nice to me," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I know he want for me be daughter proper to him, but how is can I do this when if he did know what I is do with mine father... he would be disgust as Mamiere was too?"
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