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Post by MILES VELLA on Oct 1, 2013 17:58:55 GMT
When the boy stirred, Miles placed the magazine onto his own lap, then looked over at the young man upon hearing his voice. Almost instantly, Miles' smile returned and he tilted his head innocently, keeping his hands on his lap. "You've been out for a little while. You must've been exhausted... Do you feel better now?" Miles asked, still smiling. A few of the sweets and drinks on the table had disappeared, seeing how Miles has no idea how to contain himself, though there was still plenty to be shared comfortably. "Are you hungry? Or possibly thirsty? You can have whatever you want off the table, here. I brought some up for you while you were asleep, but I couldn't help myself and I caved in... I had a few of the snack cakes... I just... can't help myself when it comes to sugar."There was a strangely lustful look on his face when he spoke of the sugary treats. |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2013 14:46:04 GMT
Rosalie nodded at the man’s question, gawking at the two fists that clenched in his lap. He didn’t dare look at the man. At this point, Rosalie was convinced that the man was a serial kidnapper and that he was going to be his next victim. His fist unclenched and clenched in an abysmal attempt to keep his calm. He was going to ease his way through this. He needed to calm down, but with serenity proving to be an elusive dream, how was he to convince himself, much less his kidnapper? With silent prayers to any deity that would listen, Rosalie, gathering the last of his calm, turned to look at the man. Seeing him sitting dapper and civilized made his blood run cold, but he couldn’t allow the man to see that. He smoothed the invisible rumples in his tattered dress and sat up straighter. “I’m fine, but thank you for the concern,” he lied. There was a slight waver to the alto of his voice, and he hated himself for it. “Although . . . now that you’ve mentioned it, I could do for a stretch. Maybe a little fresh air would help?”MILES VELLA
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Post by MILES VELLA on Oct 11, 2013 18:21:44 GMT
He eyed the young male's hand as they clenched and relaxed over and over and over again. It was obvious that even after a bit of rest, the boy was still tense and worried (Over who knows what? Miles definitely had no clue). He was able to sympathize, however. The mention of a walk outside sounded rather splendid! "Oh! What a great idea. Do you like baseball?" Miles asked, suddenly looking like a kid in a candy store, or perhaps that look never did fully go away from when he mentioned the sweets earlier. There really wasn't any way you could know for sure. "If we go outside, you really must change into something appropriate. The clothes are still there on my bed for you. I won't watch. You can't go out looking like that." Miles reached over and, with a disgusted expression, picked up a small corner of the shredded dress the boy wore. He released it almost as quickly as he pinched the corner, then rose to his feet and made his way to the bed. He picked up the shirt and shorts, showing them off to the boy. "They're very nice and you can keep them. I can't wear them anymore. I'll buy you a new dress to make up for that one being ruined," Miles continued on. He returned the close neatly to the bed, walked away and stood facing the door, then rose his hand as some sort of signal. "Go ahead and change, then I'll show you my backyard. It's very lovely during this time of day, and I have a lot of sports equipment to play with. Baseball and archery are my favorites, you know. I can show you how to play if you don't know how!"He sounded so excited to be spending time with someone other than his butler. The poor man, Miles cared for him to pieces, seeing how he was more of a parent to him than his actual parents were. However, Miles liked to spend time with people around his own age. He never had the chance to. Really, it was a little heart-breaking. |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 17, 2013 0:03:41 GMT
 Rosalie raised a precarious eyebrow, but his lips formed no words. No words could come close to expressing what he felt about baseball and clothing designed for his true identity, but Rosalie knew that they wouldn’t be words of praise. He was not ready to become Joseph Male again. The eyebrow remained aloft, waiting for the gentleman to turn around. He did. But Rosalie suspected ulterior motives. He suspected a lot of things. Rosalie swung his legs over the side of the couch, feet dangling. His fingers curled around the edge of the couch as he frowned at the set of clothing the gentleman had been so thoughtful to pick out. A white, plain shirt hung over the side of the bed alongside a pair of cargo shorts, both pressed clean. No sense of fashion. And no matter what the man said, the wig was staying. After padding across the room to the clothes and climbing into his clothes—his expression wrinkled into disgust all the while—he turned to face the man’s back, his hands wound into fists against his boyish hips. “I’m decent now. Where’s the backyard?”MILES VELLA |
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Post by MILES VELLA on Oct 17, 2013 21:01:15 GMT
Miles turned around when the boy mentioned he was dressed. His eyes went wide and a smile tugged at Miles' lips, his hands clasping together. "You look great!", the athlete complimented, then walked over and took Rosalie's hand. "We have horses, too. My father likes to play polo, but he doesn't so much anymore. He used to play a lot when I was younger. But the horses are very well mannered. Do you want to feed one?" He sounded like a little kid who'd found a new best friend as he talked with the young man, hand clenched tightly to the other's as they walked downstairs and out the back door. The lawn was huge and a vivid, healthy green. It was obvious that a lot care went into keeping the yard looking nice. Once in the middle of the lawn, Miles looked over at his young guest and waited to see what it was that he wanted to do. That was the good thing about being rich that Miles always loved. If he wanted something, he would get it. He never was bored in terms of having things to do. It was exciting to finally have someone there with him to share those things with! |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 11, 2013 3:35:37 GMT
“Um,” he said. “Athletics don’t really cut it with me.” They really didn’t. Rosalie was born with a pair of two left feet and a set of withered lungs. “I’d like to stay outside though.”So that he could attempt to escape with his two left feet and dying respiratory system. He would sooner be on the ground with a mouthful of dirt than over the ornamental iron fence that was painted the colour of snow. He glanced at the prince, playing hopeful. “Couldn’t we just . . . go for a stroll?”MILES VELLA |
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Post by MILES VELLA on Nov 11, 2013 15:07:45 GMT
Miles perked at brow at him but nodded softly. "Well... okay... We can stroll. Like I said, the horses need to be fed... Would you like to feed them something? They like carrots, and apples, and sugar cubes," he started to name things off on his fingers, heading out towards the stables. He glanced over at Rosalie every now and again, checking his reaction. "Or, if you don't like that, there's a pond nearby. We can walk around the pond?"Miles asked. Surely he would've been impressed with there being a pond in Miles' backyard? Regardless of it all, Rosalie seemed to be very understanding and that was wonderful! He was very polite with voicing his opinions, too, which made him all the more pleasant in Miles' opinion. He didn't really like rude people. Or rather, people who were rude on purpose. He usually could tell when someone was being rude on purpose. Miles hated those types of people. Couldn't stand them. He frowned a little bit at his trailing thoughts. |
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