|
|
Post by Isidor Faust on Dec 24, 2014 8:06:50 GMT
His tongue slid absently over his lower lip as he stared at the books. He wasn’t sure if anyone he knew would particularly like to get a book for Christmas – but he would. He didn’t have the money to buy presents for himself, though. He had spent all his money on presents for other people. His fingers curled in the fur of his tiger’s head as he thumbed the spine to a book on medieval warfare strategy. He loved books like that, he loved reading about what the great generals used to do. He found that no book was too old to learn something from. Even if no one fought in armor or from the backs of horses anymore some of the lessons could be applied and used in different situations. His blue eyes were covered as he blinked a few times. If this was a library he would have just picked the book up and started reading it, but he doubted that the owner of the bookstore would appreciate that very much – they were trying to run a business after all.
“Sie könnten nur stehlen.” His tiger rumbled beside him. He looked down at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Es ist das Risiko nicht wert.” He replied after a moment. He was not about to draw attention to himself over a book, no matter how badly he wanted it. Gisela raised her shoulders in what could only be perceived as a shrug. He glanced over his shoulder at the owner of the shop – they were busy helping someone else. He was pretty sure he could slide the book under his sweater and leave without incident, but no, it wasn’t worth it. He sighed softly and moved away from the area, walking aimlessly through the rows of books.
He came upon the section of the store that sold book merchandise, like Harry Potter scarves or little figurines. He picked up one of the Ravenclaw scarves and held it up to his face. “Es bringt Ihre Augen.” The tiger said in a bored, flat tone. He turned to her and grinned widely, holding up the scarf. She took his meaning immediately and rumbled out a warning growl. He darted forward, attempting to wrap the scarf around her neck before she could react. She was a big cat, though, and therefore much faster than him. Eventually he ended up on his back with her snarling over him, the scarf discarded somewhere off to the side. “Ohh, so scary.” He teased her as she snapped at his face, he knew she would never hurt him. Though of course their little scuffle had attracted the attention of just about everyone in the store.
--
“Sie könnten nur stehlen.” - You could just steal it.
“Es ist das Risiko nicht wert.” - It's not worth the risk.
“Es bringt Ihre Augen.” - It brings out your eyes.
Lenart Forstner
|
|
|
|
Post by Lenart Forstner on Feb 11, 2015 0:16:50 GMT
His slender fingers ran their ends along the spine of a book. Each letter felt beneath them an identity that would lead him to the title that belonged to that book. His original purpose for coming to this place lingered in the back of his mind, but so did the voice of his annoying father. He lifted the book from the shelf and he held it in his hands. Staring at the cover that spoke of the past. the cover was rather plain in comparison to the tales within, but there wasn't much a cover could do to properly convey the things that happened during times of war. At least none that would make a book leave a shelf. He had no idea that another's hands had touched a book like this, but he found an almost morbid curiousity in these things himself. Maybe it was because he was constantly at war within himself to maintain the person his parents wanted him to be and deny the part of him that cried out for the affection his parents never gave. A war between being the good boy and being free. Your father would not like you having that. a small voice chimed out. A soft sigh passed his lips as flower petals batted him in the forehead as if there were some child trying to get his attention with them. His bright eyes turned their gaze upward toward the flower that sat ontop of his head. Bent over and look at him from above. "Who cares." he murmured quietly as not to be overheard by the shop owner. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble with his parents because some nosy store owner heard him talking about how he didn't care what his father said. He approached the counter with the book in his hands and he placed it on the surface. Maybe giving it to his friend, even if that's only what he assumed they were, would bring them closer. Was it still strange for him to think that way? Ah, he felt flustered for a moment, at least until the clerk told him the price and he had to hear the questioning about why a boy his age would want a book like that. "I have a report. " was all his uttered. There were no further questions only a smile as if he'd said something amazingly responsible. With the book placed in a bag for him he folded the bag over itself and tucked it into his hoodie where the flower was now skittering down to hide. He turned to leave when he heard that attention-grabbing voice. 'Ohh, so scary!' it wasn't hard to miss and he found himself peeking around the aisle toward the source of the commotion. Though there was no doubt that he knew that voice so there was no hesitation in him on moving forward from that corner to step toward izzy. He looked around at the people staring at them but he gave a little bit of an annoyed expression at their judgemental stares. A few of them looked away while others continued to stare, but he didn't care either way. He approached the pair, but before he could speak a word for himself that familiar of his own popped up from his hoody. Throwing flower petals in the air shouting surprise! causing the book he'd just purchased to fall from within his hood to the floor near them. "Sorry..." he stated aloud as he scrambled to pick it up. Flower petals falling off the top of his own head in the process though they disappeared upon hitting the floor. He picked the book up then turned toward the pair nearby. "Are you okay?" he questioned Izzy then. Wondering if they were just playing as usual or if it had gotten out of hand. That flustered feeling was there again. As it always was when he was around Izzy. This person before him had been the only person capable of reaching his clouded mind. The hand that reached it's light through his darkened world to guide him into a family that he'd only ever imagined. He was attached, perhaps obsessively, to izzy. He might have blindly followed him around, but no one could understand what was in his head and heart better. Lenart was sure of that. It was the only reason he'd clung to Izzy so much; plus izzy didn't shun him for anything. At least not that he was aware of. He put the book back into his hoodie to hide it away. It was supposed to be for christmas after all. He looked to the scarf in question near them both, "Is that new?"
Isidor Faust |
|
|
|
Post by Isidor Faust on Feb 12, 2015 0:12:31 GMT
Isidor did not care about the stares he was attracting. He didn’t care what the people in the store thought of him, be it positive or negative. They meant less than nothing to him, and if he so desired, he could allow Gisela to rip their heads right off of their shoulders. But he would not. He was quite certain that everyone in the toybox would be held responsible for the actions of their familiars, even if that hadn’t come up yet. Familiars did not seem to act of their own volition, as far as he could tell. Even Gisela always listened to him when the time came for it. He raised both of his hands, pushing against her impossibly large head. Her teeth pulled back in a snarl, and he snarled back.
The attention of both the boy and the tiger would jerked toward Lenart as that book fell near them. Both seemed to bristle momentarily before their eyes fell on the easily recognizable form. The tiger released a snort, moving from on top of him. He rolled into a sitting position with ease, smiling warmly at the boy before him. Little Lenny. “Oh, I am fine liebling. We were only playing.” He stood fluidly thereafter, shifting his gaze to look down on the male before him rather than up at him. He could see the little flower familiar in Lenny’s hood and smiled at it briefly before returning his attention to the dark-haired male before him. That one red eye caught his attention more than anything. It was nice looking. He liked it.
His gaze followed Lenart’s to the scarf that had started the whole little wrestling match between himself and Gisela. He smirked a bit and bent to pick it up, rubbing his fingers absently over the soft cloth. “It is not even mine.” He explained, catching the eye of the store owner who had finally showed up to see what the commotion was about. “I was trying to see what it would look like on Gisela, but she would not allow it.” A low growl sounded from behind him, and another smirk worked its way onto his lips. He wrapped the scarf carefully and expertly around the neck of the boy in front of him instead. “I think it suits you more anyway.” He stated with a warm grin.
--
Lenart Forstner
|
|
|
|
Post by Lenart Forstner on Feb 13, 2015 0:52:00 GMT
Lenart was entranced, he always was when it came to izzy, his friend that always seemed a way of making him feel warm even when he was only just there. He never felt alone when he was around Izzy, no matter who they were with, or if they were alone. He was never forgotten, or pressured, Izzy spun a web that made him feel like he had every choice of his own will. Every choice he made, every option he had, it was all his own choosing. He believed this to be true just as izzy likely wanted him to. Though it was clear who really had all the power there. When it came to Izzy there wasn't a thing Lenny wouldn't do. There was a hint of a smile on his lips when he was reassured that they were only playing. Though he doubted that Gisela would ever hurt Izzy, it was still protective nature for him to want to make sure he was never wrong about that. "Yo," The flower in his hoodie saluted Izzy before diving back into that hood. Even despite this Lenny's eyes never left those eyes before him. They were such a captivating color. It made him far too willing to down in those pools. "She must already be warm." he suggested though he looked to the scarf now. "It is a nic---" he paused as he watched Izzy approach him closer. Wrapping that scarf around his neck and there was the smallest color that found it's way to his cheeks as one of his hands rose to grip at the scarf. It looked better on him? He didn't really think it would, but if Izzy said it did then it had to be true. "It reminds me of your eyes." he muttered aloud. Though it was more so to himself. Though he looked to Izzy attentively he still knew very well that people were still staring at them. "Do you want it? " he questioned as he adjusted the lump of a book within his hoodie. He didn't want to make more of a scene there but the longer the owner stared at them the more nervous he was getting. Was he thinking about calling his dad? He hoped not because he didn't want his dad's good opinion about izzy to be ruined by their silliness, but after a few moments longer it seemed like the store owner wasn't doing so. He was grateful for that for sure. Isidor Faust |
|
|
|
Post by Isidor Faust on Mar 11, 2015 0:54:55 GMT
The web that Isidor spun around the people he had chosen after his move was one that was being slowly and carefully constructed. He wanted what he had in Germany, he wanted that again, but he knew he had to take his time with it. It had taken him a good long time there, and it would here as well – even if Americans somehow seemed more willing to follow him than their German counterparts. Ah, but that could be attributed to his power and the situation they had found themselves in. In a world that seemed vastly different and more dangerous, people were more likely to cling to authority figures. Or people who seemed to know what they were doing. How you presented yourself was more than half of the battle, really.
The smallest ghost of a smirk appeared on his face for a second before he allowed it to widen into a smile to cover it up. Lenny’s blush was really just too cute, not to mention the comment about his eyes made him more than happy. Izzy was a vain creature, it was one of his biggest flaws. He loved receiving compliments, or even just knowing that people were paying enough attention to him to know what his eye color was. He took the end of the scarf and held it up to his face, seemingly inadvertently leaning in closer to the shorter male. “Does it?” He questioned, holding it for a moment longer before he dropped it and leaned back again. “I believe I would like to have it, but you should wear it for the rest of the day~” He told the other teen, stepping back to walk to the register.
--
Lenart Forstner
|
|
