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Your burning star turned to midnight sun
I will stay alive for the fallen ones
Dancing with the smoke of your devastated flame
Dancing with the smoke dancing with the rain
So cold being here again
So I call your name ~ I call ~ I call your name
The time had come at last for Jocelyn de Rochefort to leave the private school that her parents had been sending her to. Now she would follow her in her mother's footsteps. The High Lady and Queen of the Fortunate Island would very soon be cutting a doorway into the Mists and taking her youngest daughter there to begin what she would need to know as the heir to that Throne. Jocelyn had said her goodbyes, but made each of them sound as if she would only be gone for a little while. She had not quite told a lie, but she certainly did not replace any assumptions being made on the part of anyone else that she would still be a ready companion to her friends, and close at hand. The embraces shared were all too quick, but she did not mind. Jocelyn was not one that was too hungry for the touch of others - unless of course she was being petted by her Papa, her Maman, Amarante' or her Godfather, Hsu, or on the very odd occasion, getting an affectionate and very chaste embrace from her friend, Azazeal.
Those were the ones that she felt in the pit of her stomach like intense bouts of anxiety. And in all honesty, she couldn't quite explain them. Surely it wasn't because she ate something that disagreed with her right before she saw him! There must be an explanation. All she knew is that when she did see him, her heart would race as it never had before, and she sincerely missed the frequency of Azazeal's visits that she had once enjoyed as a child. There were no more tea parties and wanton destruction of Musketeer cookies and cakes now.
On the eve of her fifteenth birthday she stared into the mirror long after everyone else had gone to bed. The candlelight gave her a beautiful glow that was the kind of sensuality that she was starting to pay intense attention to. The pleated folds of her nightdress hung around her now in ways that they never did before as a child. Now her hips were rounder, her waist smaller and the the neckline, though far from being considered provocative for one so young, was plunging enough to show of the beginning bloom of breasts that now made themselves apparent. Jocelyn raised her chin and gave her reflection a smile. She was very appreciative she had inherited her Maman's beauty and her father's sharp sense of humour and penchant for calculation. Reaching behind her she drew the folds of her gown a little tighter, to accentuate the curves even more. At school she had buried these things under her school uniform but was rather surprised when some of the boys at her school were starting to look at her a bit differently. The uniform had stayed the same as it had always been over the last twenty odd years. It never occurred to Jocelyn until now in the candlelight that perhaps the boys were looking at her in such a way because it was what was inside the uniform that had changed after all. She found her thoughts wandering to Azazeal again and what he might actually think of all of the differences in her. Would he still be as glad to see her? She wasn't quite certain, but she did know that she wanted him, more than anyone else, to notice her. Azazeal had been quite appreciative of every spell that she showed him, every concept that she had learned magically that she discussed with him and indeed he gave her some interesting things to think about. These things, whether she liked it or not, would perplex her teachers and they would exasperatedly tell her that she really should not show off so much in class. Jocelyn, however, took it all in stride and went about her business. Was it her fault that the world was slow in catching up to what she knew to be true?
She listened to the rain pattering softly against the glass of her bedroom window and reached into her dresser drawer and pulled out the small box of cosmetics that she had managed to borrow from her mother's vast stores of them, or buy on her way to and from school over the last few weeks. Jocelyn knew if her father found out that she was putting on makeup now at her age, he would give her an angry glance and growl that she did not need them, and certainly not yet. Like any other adolescent girl, it was natural to defy her father - at least in the privacy of her own room. Glamour is something that comes quite easily to Fae children, especially the Unseelie. They have a charm that is in inborn that sucks in every bit of light around them, and these little beings learn how to radiate it back out to the world as if it were something that came entirely from within them. She had been watching her mother at her toilette for years and knew exactly how to do each thing as well as from Amarante and the other matrons of the Château de Rochefort of natural beauty secrets that had been passed from Human and Fae alike. To Jocelyn's mind, these were things were just as important as learning spells or holding glamour of one kind or another. She carefully began to line her eyes with one of the khol pencils that she had borrowed from her mother and carefully smudged the edges with a fingertip. Instantly this small bit of enahncement made her eyes stand out in the candlelight. She smiled, pleased with the reflection and was about to reach into the box for another cosmetic when she heard a familiar voice.
"Bon Nuit, Jocelyn," the voice, low and lilting said from somewhere in the darkness of her room.
She gasped and whirled around to see Azazeal sitting quite contentedly in the wing chair in the corner of her room. He had been watching her the entire time. She nearly squealed with delight at seeing her friend but then quickly clasped her hand over her mouth. "Azazeal! What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper, "how did you get through Maman's wards?"
Azazeal just offered her a smile and slowly rose from his chair to come over to her at the dressing table. He was tall, so very tall and now he was close...'and why the hell was her stomach doing that flip-flop thing again?' she wondered.
Muse: Jocelyn de Rochefort
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count:1096 (not counting lyrics)
I will stay alive for the fallen ones
Dancing with the smoke of your devastated flame
Dancing with the smoke dancing with the rain
So cold being here again
So I call your name ~ I call ~ I call your name
The time had come at last for Jocelyn de Rochefort to leave the private school that her parents had been sending her to. Now she would follow her in her mother's footsteps. The High Lady and Queen of the Fortunate Island would very soon be cutting a doorway into the Mists and taking her youngest daughter there to begin what she would need to know as the heir to that Throne. Jocelyn had said her goodbyes, but made each of them sound as if she would only be gone for a little while. She had not quite told a lie, but she certainly did not replace any assumptions being made on the part of anyone else that she would still be a ready companion to her friends, and close at hand. The embraces shared were all too quick, but she did not mind. Jocelyn was not one that was too hungry for the touch of others - unless of course she was being petted by her Papa, her Maman, Amarante' or her Godfather, Hsu, or on the very odd occasion, getting an affectionate and very chaste embrace from her friend, Azazeal.
Those were the ones that she felt in the pit of her stomach like intense bouts of anxiety. And in all honesty, she couldn't quite explain them. Surely it wasn't because she ate something that disagreed with her right before she saw him! There must be an explanation. All she knew is that when she did see him, her heart would race as it never had before, and she sincerely missed the frequency of Azazeal's visits that she had once enjoyed as a child. There were no more tea parties and wanton destruction of Musketeer cookies and cakes now.
On the eve of her fifteenth birthday she stared into the mirror long after everyone else had gone to bed. The candlelight gave her a beautiful glow that was the kind of sensuality that she was starting to pay intense attention to. The pleated folds of her nightdress hung around her now in ways that they never did before as a child. Now her hips were rounder, her waist smaller and the the neckline, though far from being considered provocative for one so young, was plunging enough to show of the beginning bloom of breasts that now made themselves apparent. Jocelyn raised her chin and gave her reflection a smile. She was very appreciative she had inherited her Maman's beauty and her father's sharp sense of humour and penchant for calculation. Reaching behind her she drew the folds of her gown a little tighter, to accentuate the curves even more. At school she had buried these things under her school uniform but was rather surprised when some of the boys at her school were starting to look at her a bit differently. The uniform had stayed the same as it had always been over the last twenty odd years. It never occurred to Jocelyn until now in the candlelight that perhaps the boys were looking at her in such a way because it was what was inside the uniform that had changed after all. She found her thoughts wandering to Azazeal again and what he might actually think of all of the differences in her. Would he still be as glad to see her? She wasn't quite certain, but she did know that she wanted him, more than anyone else, to notice her. Azazeal had been quite appreciative of every spell that she showed him, every concept that she had learned magically that she discussed with him and indeed he gave her some interesting things to think about. These things, whether she liked it or not, would perplex her teachers and they would exasperatedly tell her that she really should not show off so much in class. Jocelyn, however, took it all in stride and went about her business. Was it her fault that the world was slow in catching up to what she knew to be true?
She listened to the rain pattering softly against the glass of her bedroom window and reached into her dresser drawer and pulled out the small box of cosmetics that she had managed to borrow from her mother's vast stores of them, or buy on her way to and from school over the last few weeks. Jocelyn knew if her father found out that she was putting on makeup now at her age, he would give her an angry glance and growl that she did not need them, and certainly not yet. Like any other adolescent girl, it was natural to defy her father - at least in the privacy of her own room. Glamour is something that comes quite easily to Fae children, especially the Unseelie. They have a charm that is in inborn that sucks in every bit of light around them, and these little beings learn how to radiate it back out to the world as if it were something that came entirely from within them. She had been watching her mother at her toilette for years and knew exactly how to do each thing as well as from Amarante and the other matrons of the Château de Rochefort of natural beauty secrets that had been passed from Human and Fae alike. To Jocelyn's mind, these were things were just as important as learning spells or holding glamour of one kind or another. She carefully began to line her eyes with one of the khol pencils that she had borrowed from her mother and carefully smudged the edges with a fingertip. Instantly this small bit of enahncement made her eyes stand out in the candlelight. She smiled, pleased with the reflection and was about to reach into the box for another cosmetic when she heard a familiar voice.
"Bon Nuit, Jocelyn," the voice, low and lilting said from somewhere in the darkness of her room.
She gasped and whirled around to see Azazeal sitting quite contentedly in the wing chair in the corner of her room. He had been watching her the entire time. She nearly squealed with delight at seeing her friend but then quickly clasped her hand over her mouth. "Azazeal! What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper, "how did you get through Maman's wards?"
Azazeal just offered her a smile and slowly rose from his chair to come over to her at the dressing table. He was tall, so very tall and now he was close...'and why the hell was her stomach doing that flip-flop thing again?' she wondered.
Muse: Jocelyn de Rochefort
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count:1096 (not counting lyrics)
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She needn't have asked him what to do. Whether a person is Human or Fae, mattered not at all, for unless trained otherwise, the body would always answer when it was called in the proper fashion. Azazeal, undoubtedly knew this language and spoke it with fluent proficiency. With tremblign fingers she found the small opening of his shirt near his throat and felt the warmth of skin, even as kisses rained down upon her instead of the downpour now. Her body had been starved for this, and knew by instinct what the need was.
Everywhere his fingers touched bare skin upon her thigh, then on her bared rump burned and tingled. She could not resist her hips wanting to move and undulate of their own accord toward Azazeal. Something at her core pleaded for more and with a smile against her lips he complied. Closer to the stable and so very solid stone altar they moved. Jocelyn wanted to lie down upon it, she wanted him to lie close to her and hold her till this feeling did whatever it was going to do or passed altogheter, but the want of it to never stop made her wimper in protest. She felt a shudder around them. Was it what was going on between them? Jocelyn de Rochefort had no idea, but to her mind it was a sign, it was the impetus that reassured her that she was doing the right thing - at least as far as she was concerned. Surely no one who had treated her so well over these years would do anything to harm her. Certainly this was not harmful, even as heady and exciting as it was. How could anything so wondrous be wrong? Azazeal kissed her again, parting his lips and hers, his tongue entering her mouth to pursue hers. Her eyes fluttered open again at the shock but quickly the sensations of this and his hands hiking up the other side of her nightdress caused her to press a little closer to him still. (cont)
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Somehow in that steamy, heady persistance that was reaching a boiling point between them, or maybe it was her presence of mind that made her start to pull back. Or perhaps it was the training her Maman had given her, but she knew that what was happening in this current moment in time between she and Azazeal could potentially derail everything. He would not want that, surely not. It felt bigger than a stolen moment in a garden, and her gut instinct reaffirmed it.
Just as his fingertips moved over and between her thighs she broke the kiss. "Azazeal," Jocelyn whispered breathlessly, her skin, both arms, legs and everywhere else was all but covered in gooseflesh, "I....." he kissed her again, but still her mind held on the thought that had made her pause, "Azazeal," she pressed her forehead against his then caught eyes that were darker blue than she had ever seen them before, "I don't know what's happening, but I think I know." She pulled his hands in front of her and kissed his fingers then nuzzled her face against them like a cat marks another cat or person. Her thoughts were a jumble, but her eyes held the same level of want as it did moments before. "Azazeal," she repeated is name, then caught his gaze again, "I have to go to my Rite of Becomming a Maiden. If I don't..." her voice trailed off. His lips seemed to curl into a smile. It was a smile of understanding and a slight nod. He knew, it too. Jocelyn was certain of it. If she did not go to the Rite of Becomming as a Maiden still, anyone could challenge her right to be her mother's successor on the Fortunate Island. If that were to happen, how could she explain it to her Maman or worse to her Papa? At her upcoming birthdate and when he was not in Jocelyn's presence, he was already surly. How could her Papa forgive her if she ruined herself in the eyes of the Sidhe?
Jocelyn collapsed against him wrapping her arms about his wasit and burying her face against his chest. The wet hem of her garment still clung high upon her thighs. "I don't want you to be angry, Azazeal. You're my friend. I love...." she stopped, swallowed back a lump in her throat, at what she had said "I love how you make me feel, but I have to focus on what comes next - for me....for everyone." Her eyes searched his. "Please tell me you understand."
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But not yet. He knew just as well as she the importance of the Rite of Becoming both to her as her mother's heir, and there could be no risk of undermining that eventuality, and to his own plans -- his Grand Undertaking. The pieces to that were falling slowly into place, and he held the most important piece in his hands right now. Already their lust had caused a ripple of power to flow through the Realms of Existence. Heaven and Hell would wonder at what his intentions were, and let them, but Azazeal couldn't let that grow into anything more than just wanton lust. Oh, He might suspect something more devious afoot, but then He always did...suspicious, jealous Bastard, but he was answerable to Lucifer, and the Grigori did not want his intentions known yet to his fellow demons.
He smiled and nodded to Jocelyn, not moving from her in the slightest, forehead still against hers. "I understand. I know you do, and believe me, there is nothing more important that what comes next. Your education, your performing the Rites are what I care about, for you." His hands were still on her rear, and his lips kissed her again, this time gently. "I want you to know Joie-lyn that I care, and I want, but I am patient." The firmness in his trousers that pressed against her told a different story. Promise, when the time is right, we will fully share in this pleasure."
His blue eyes gazed at her, looking deep within her. "But there is nothing against me leaving you with a taste of how I will make you feel on that day." One hand came around her hip and down to her soft, warm spot between her thighs. So very gently, his fingers brushed over her, teasing...promising, yet he didn't spoil her in any way. Ancient words breathed from his lips as he kissed her again. A spell that given her talents she could easily overcome if she wanted, but he doubted that she would. "Dream of me, Jocelyn." And what wicked, wonderful dreams those would be.
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The warmth of his hand sliding over her hip to hover just at her mons, caused her to sigh. A gentle, tentative touch of his fingers lightly stroking over that small, sensitive nub between her thighs caused her eyes to momentarily fly wide open in surprise, searching his. Again, his touch beckoned and she followed. Thrilling warmth spread out over her thighs and through her centre causing her let her eyes flutter closed and to let out a ssmall moan of pleasure. Azazeal had been waiting her whole life to touch her in this way, she knew it. His voiced desire and want of her was one thing. Any man could say such things. But it was his self-ccontrol, even in spite of his obviousl and turgid need pressing against her that affirmed it.
When he asked her to dream of him, she could only murmur a quiet, "Oui." His touch was thrilling. Gooseflesh stood out on Jocelyn's skin, and everything she had ever learned or desired seem to culminate with pinpoint accuracy. Just before she felt as if she might fall, hurtling toward the edge of the precipice, Azazeal's mouth closed over hers in a deeply passionate and heated kiss, muffling her cries.
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Lower down, his fingers still stroked, exciting her and letting her feel that heat flood her body, yet never breaching her. She was slick with her arousal, and he didn't stop when her continued moans vibrated in his own mouth. He felt her tremble and knew he had brought her to that precipice. Pulling back, Azazeal softly kissed Jocelyn's forehead, as he had so many times when she was little.
"The storm has passed." Indeed, the rain around them had stopped, and it was all quiet in the garden. "You should get back inside before anyone misses you. I will see you when I come visit, Joie-lyn." Another soft, chaste kiss. His farewell. Then he turned, smiling back at her. "Don't forget to dream."
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Jocelyn placed both hands on his chest for a final touch but also to stabilise her legs that still felt a bit wobbly. Colours from her release still danced before her eyes. She had experienced plaeasures like this at her own hand, but nothing shared so intimately with another. It made her feel safe and yet vulnerable, too. Jocelyn stood on tip-toe to place another, gentle lingering kiss on his lips. "How could I forget to dream after someting like that?" she asked giving him a small, adoring smile.
Reluctantly she pulled away, and looked over her shoulder as she retreated back into the house and hopefully, undetected back to her room so that she could further the dream.
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