Halloween Spooktacular Ball Winners

Comments

Vampire

Theodore Carter October 28, 2019 at 8:43am

Theodore couldn't quite believe it; that was the truth. There was no way in hell that the results could be honest; it had to be a fix. A cunning ploy against him, had Marci concocted this plan? For several pain-staking seconds, he stared vacantly ahead with his grasp growing ever stronger on the award that he won moments prior. "Catherine, take this." He hissed lowly, offering her the medal to protect. Inhaling a sharp breath, he raised his glass of whisky to his lips and turned on his feet to catch a glimpse of Marci. Taking a generous swig, swallowing the strong liquor harshly, he set his glass down in an impolite and loud manner against the bar with his emerald hues darkening upon the turned Vampire. If he had the power to burn Marci with a stare, his gaze would've set her ablaze, all he could see was a ferocious red, and no, that wasn't her dress. In spite of his thoughts demanding that he outrightly refuse the award, reluctant to ruin the night by making a scene, he once again made his way towards the stage where he stood before Vincent and his Queen with a hardened expression masking his features. "I would thank you, both of you. However, for this, I cannot. I should speak as few words as possible, for I fear of what I shall say should I speak the truth." Whatever the joke was, he wasn't getting it. Grimacing at Vincent's suggestion of him starting off the evening's dance with Marci, he shot a side glance at Rose, and for the first time since hearing the news, his merciless gaze softened upon her. A part of him had hoped that she would intervene to spare him; however, he could sense her envy over Catherine. Was this her way of making a point? If it were, Rose would pay for supporting this; he was sure of it, and thankfully he had just the thing in mind.

With his forehead creasing, revealing his inward distress at what he was about to do, Theodore forced himself to face Marci. God, how he wanted to rid the smug look from her face. "Well, Regina Mea, I suggest you hold your silence and simply follow my lead." Came his detached and rather blunt instruction to Marci while he begrudgingly offered her his hand. Once she accepted his hand, he turned away from Vincent and Rose to face the guests attending the Ball and awards ceremony and forced a smile. It would've been the perfect time for him to thank all those that voted for him, and yet he couldn't find the words. He wanted to condemn them, so a forced smile was for the best. "Regina Mea," Knowing that Rose would hear his every damn word, and be hurt by him referring to Marci as 'My Queen' in his native tongue, he breathed the phrase with a genuine twisted smile creeping onto his lips. "Let us dance, Iubirea mea." He added, referring to Marci as 'my love' in Romanian. Although he would've preferred to send Marci's form flying across the room, knowing that his every action would get to Rose, he guided Marci onto the dance floor, then held her to him as though they were a couple. King and Queen. "Relax, Regina Mea." He murmured waiting for the music to start, then taking the lead of the dance, he guided Marci's steps around the ballroom, pivoting and twirling her around on the spot every time he passed the stage to make a point to his Queen.
- Vampire
  
  Theodore Carter October 28, 2019 at 2:11pm
  
  Of all the punishments Theodore had ever had to endure, dancing with Marci was by far one of the worse. It wasn't the close proximity that bothered him, nor the 'gloating' look in her eyes, as always, it was the words leaving her mouth that riled him. If he could've snapped her neck to silence her, he would've done so the moment she referred to him as 'Pumpkin', but where he was determined to be a better man, and rise above her foolish antics, he chose otherwise. Still, what a mortifying and humiliating title to be given, 'Pumpkin King' or so he thought. He much preferred being branded a pauper or peasant back in the day. Nevertheless, he had other things to worry about, knowing Marci to be cunning, he could only imagine where such a dance with her would lead him; no doubt into a pit of fire and fury. And, she really was throwing all the coal into the fire. Was she really trying to cause another inferno? Had the incident at his home really taught the turned Vampire nothing?
  
  Trying his utmost best to hold onto his silence while Marci taunted him, he bit his tongue to the point that he could taste his own blood and tried to focus his attention on the gripping voice that serenaded room with the backing of live instruments. Together, he thought it created a rather alluring, and dare say, captivating melody, still he couldn't quite fathom how he came to be dancing to such a song with Marci when he felt like it had been written by his heart for Rose.
  
  You say that we're different, I feel the same...
  
  Tightening his grasp on Marci's waist and his grip on her hand, he narrowed his starless hues upon her features and gave her a simple dismissive shake of his head. "You are treading a very fine line, Marci." He warned, averting his attention across the ballroom towards Rose. The instant his ebony hues fell upon her pale features, he couldn't help but swallow harshly, not in regret, but in self-doubt. What point was he really trying to make? When after everything, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt the Queen Vampiress. Though he refused to bite the bait Marci dangled over him, he couldn't deny that her words possessed an element of the truth. Perhaps he was trying to make his Queen jealous but was he intentionally trying to break Catherine's heart, certainly not. His love for Catherine was just as real as his love for Rose, but it was different. His love for Catherine would last her entire lifetime, while his love for Rose would last for all eternity. How in the hell would he even begin to answer Marci's question when what he felt for the Queen Vampiress was beyond his own control? He was born to love her but forbidden to be with her because of Vampire law. He wasn't of royal descent, he didn't possess the title of a Prince or King, in many ways, he was a nobody in the grand scheme of things, so over the course of his many different lifetimes, he had to witness others call Rose their wife and didn't his heart bear many scars from it.
  
  After humming and hawing over his thoughts for a moment, he released his hold on Marci and allowed his shoulders to bear the weight of her slim arms while he gained another hold of her waist, but this time with both of his hands. Sweeping a vague gaze across Marci's features to divulge her expression, he could see that beneath her sadistic smile there was hurt. Despite how she carried herself and spoke her words, he was aware that when it came to the hearts he had broken, hers was still one of them. His smile faltered slightly at the sides, though was still enough in-tact that those watching their dance would've thought him happy, only Marci would've been able to read the vague sadness that crossed his features. "For once, I was actually feeling something other than pure hatred for you, Marci." Then came the sensation of something being driven with force through his shoe, grazing the surface of his foot. Flashing his gaze down to their feet, he quickly realised that Marci had used the heel of her ridiculously high stiletto to inflict pain upon him. "Must you always be the one to overstep the mark, Marci? And, no. The pun is not intended." Appearing dour, he challenged her tedious action against him. "For the briefest of moments, I thought this dance would serve as an opportunity for us to make amends and lay the past to rest." Clenching his teeth together, he lifted his gaze to reunite his ebony hues with hers. "How mistaken was I?" He stated coldly, feeling his muscles contract as Marci stepped back from him and pulled at her dress as if to draw his attention to her physique. Parting his lips to sigh, he held his breath, granted, she was beautiful to the eye, but knowing how corrupt and twisted her soul was, he couldn't help but think of her ugly. "I ask that you refrain from calling me that, Marci." Raising both brows at her remark on her dress, he then chuckled lowly and held his hands out at his sides, ready to state his defence. "I am hardly likely to compliment your attempt to dress up this evening for several reasons. Firstly, I do not seek to flatter you. Secondly, I am not romantically involved with you, Marci. And lastly, despite your warped beliefs, I respect women, so would never set out to insult a woman's dress sense, at least not intentionally." He admitted, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides as the song came to a welcomed end. "Nevertheless, should it massage that ego of yours, might I confess that I find your dress to be rather fitting." Stifling a chuckle, he stepped back from her and formally finished the dance with a bow. Soon his hell would be over, soon.
  
  Then came a request like no other, one that instantly demanded a furious expression to cross his features. For a few moments, he held his glare upon Marci as she set her palm against his cheek and debated the many ways in which he could kill her. All of which would, unfortunately, mean that Rose suffered as a consequence. He couldn't do it. Not without good reason. Therefore, seeking to cause as little fuss as possible, he caught Marci's bare arm with his hand and forced her to step forward, then swiftly escorted her away from the dancefloor, heading towards the doors with yet another forced smile upon his lips. "What a way to spoil the evening, Marci. For that, you do deserve a crown." After leaving the Ballroom, he hissed his words at her and directed her down the hallway before shoving her into a vacant room.
  
  "Sit." Joining her in what appeared to be a small office, he pushed the door to a close and moved to lean against it, preventing any guests from entering inside."I have fought hard to ignore all of your remarks tonight, and I have done so in the vain hope of you giving up on whatever game it is that you are playing." Pauses for a moment, folding his arms across his chest. "By all means, hate me, Marci. However, do not test me. I suggest you heed my warning when I say that I will not hesitate to end you again." He further added, pushing his weight forwards to turn and open the door. "Now, I am going to return to the Ballroom and enjoy what time I have left at the Ball with the one I love. I would urge you to do the same. Count yourself warned, Marci." After glancing back at her with a glum look in his eyes, he sighed heavily, despising the fact that Marci still sought war with him, then left the room and made his way back down the corridor to return to the Ballroom.
- Vampire
  
  Theodore Carter October 31, 2019 at 7:05am
  
  With his hands buried inside his trouser pockets, Theodore continued to make his way back to the Ballroom. A part of him still feared that Catherine had over-heard Marci's request and assumed the worse of him. Shaking his head at the thought, wanting nothing more than to forget about his dance and crossed words with Marci, he removed a hand from his pocket and quickly fixed his hair; brushing his mousey-blonde locks away from his forehead with his gaze sinking away from the french doors ahead to land upon the floor. Halting his steps for a moment, he inhaled a silent breath in a bid to compose and prepare himself for the stares that would no doubt fall upon him as soon as he entered the hall. Then came the brute force of something yanking him backwards, catching him completely off-guard, taking him by absolute surprise. It was Marci, he was sure of it.
  
  "Marci, stop this now." He snarled through gritted teeth as he felt his back crash into the wall. Flashing his eyes open, catching sight of her face with a sharpened gaze, he noticed how her pale features bared no resemblance to the person he was addressing only minutes before. All he could see was anger etched upon Marci's expression, twisting and tainting her features, making her appear like the monster he never wanted her to become. He could feel her rage, though he quickly realised it wasn't her anger that was scorching him, rather the burning sensation of something being slowly driven into his chest. "Marci, listen to me. This, this isn't what you want." Came his urgent plea as he glanced down at the silver stake in her possession, did she have any idea what she was doing? The instant that silver stake met with his heart, his immortal life would cease to be. For the first time in his life, thoughts surrounding his death evoked an unsettling fear within him. He wasn't ready. It wasn't his time. He had Catherine, and he had a future with his Queen to fight for, not only that, after spending centuries in the Darkness, he was finally with his humanity again. He was becoming a better man.
  
  "Marci," Seeing nothing but the broken child within her, he couldn't help but seek to console her. Despite everything, he still cared for Marci. And, it was his duty to protect her, no matter the cost. He had no choice - as her creator - he had to save her from doing something that would warrant her execution. Raising his hand to cup her cheek with his palm, he used his thumb to catch a fallen tear. It tore him apart inside to see her so broken. The woman stood before him, threatening him, holding his life within her hands, wasn't the woman he saved from the fire. "Killing me is not going to bring them back, Marci." He implored with his shoulders slumping forward in regret. How could he possibly tell her the truth of what happened that night?
  
  Theodore would rather have Marci drive the stake through his heart and die an eternal death than burden her with the truth. Yes, even while staring death in the face, Theodore would have Marci believe that he started the fire - the fire that stole the lives of two adults and two young children. If he hadn't noticed such a striking resemblance between Marci and his former human love, Julieta, he would've left her to die. However, selfishly at the time, wanting to save her in the way that he failed to protect Julieta many years before, he forced Marci to feed on his blood believing himself to be doing the right thing. However, after seeing the brokenness masking her eyes and hearing an unshed heartache in her every word, every breath, he realised that he had condemned her to a life she never wanted for herself. "I have only ever acted to protect you, Marci." He admitted with his voice breaking in defeat. He couldn't stop her with a lie, nor could he stand to crush her with the truth. Whatever life she had found in Vrévale, he needed to find a way, and quickly, for her to fight for it. "I am not your enemy, Marci. Jacob..." He paused for a moment, "He would not want this for you. Nor would your Queen. Please, lower the stake. I promise the consequence to come from my death is not worth it." He spoke his words slowly and with a rare calmness to his tone. It wasn't a time for him to be angry, not when Marci was suffering. Parting his lips, willing his mind to find the words, he allowed his hand to fall away from her cheek and hang back at his side. He didn't want to hurt her, but with his words failing him, it had become clear that he had to do something; not for himself, but for the hearts of those he adored.
  
  Biting against the searing pain as he felt the stake tear through the surface of his chest, he moved quickly to disarm Marci of the silver stake, discarding it to the floor. Then with one swift movement, he kicked it away from them so that should Marci attempt to retrieve it, he would have plenty of time to stop her. "I'm going to find a way to reach you, Marci." Nodding his head with a sombreness taking shape on his face, he caught a firm grasp of her head, then averting his gaze away, he used his strength to sharply twist her head so that she would be rendered unconscious for a while. "Iartă-mă, dragă copil." Murmuring 'forgive me, dear child' in regret, using his native tongue, he captured Marci's lifeless form in his arms to spare her from falling to the ground. "Nu renunț la tine, încă nu." And with a sincere gaze fixed upon her features, Theodore made her a promise. He wouldn't give up on her. Not yet.
  
  Aware of the repercussions that would fall upon Marci should his Queen learn that the turned Vampire had threatened him with a silver stake, Theodore sought safety for Marci's body while she remained unconscious. Glancing down at the weapon on the floor for a moment, he sighed dismally, moving swiftly to retrieve it, then tucked it into his trouser pocket before fleeing from the corridor, finding refuge in what appeared to be a day room with a TV and settees. In the corner of the room, beneath a large window, was a chaise lounge. So, after strolling his way over to the piece of furniture, he set Marci's form down to rest and as a sign of mild affection and his attentiveness, he retrieved a blanket from the armchair and used it to cloak Marci's body as if to bring her a sense of comfort and warmth. "Rest now," He murmured, brushing his palm across the surface of her cheek before lowering himself to grace her forehead with his lips; leaving her with a kiss that promised his forgiveness and continued protection. "May the light find you when you awake." Removing the crown that he had been blessed with from his head to set it down beside her, he noticed how the pain, anger and utter torment had vanished from her face. All he could see was a presence of peace. With a sad smile shaping his lips, he straightened his back to stand, then turned away and silently left the room to once again return to the Ball. This time, he was more cautious while retracing his steps towards the french doors. With exhaustion etched across his face, and his mossy-green hues appearing sunken; at that particular moment, he felt his actual age. What an evening, what a damn evening, he thought, shaking his head while tugging at his tuxedo jacket.