[This is supposed to be a "s and m blog but we got a rp blog going on so whatever. My dreams, my fantasies, Jack said.Haha. Anyway, here's more Ember and Ayria and the gang.]

Ember felt bad he wasn't spending much time with his daughter. And Harlen needed attention, Charlotte needed to be talked to... And the animals... and he liked to swim in the lake... it was overwhelming sometimes. Serious talks. He felt so drained. He was tired from his life, from his worries, from being 'unable' to do things. He found he had been so fooled by the Inorganic Beings. He had been treated as if he were dealing with a used car salesman. And his friends. He was fed up with them, and he was fucking pissed, pissed enough to shed blood. And again. and again. They had tricked him, he was trying to save his lover.

Ember was Narcissus. Or had been. A very long time ago. He couldn't help it, he was blessed to be attractive, people flirted with him. He had accrued alot of people that loved him. He tried to pay them back, either with board, money, or food. His very own cooking. Fun at his house, in whatever way it occurred. Other areas of the house had not been spoken of yet.

He had slaughtered the previous owners. And implied that they had moved. No one was here. Either could be a safe thing, or a dangerous one. He was a demon vampire, something that demons tried to breed. And part Fae. They were desired. He fidgeted with himself in front of the mirror, his green eyes were unhappy, but no one ever seemed to notice. It was all fake. Every smile, every laugh, and he didn't know what to do about it anymore. He loved his daughter, but he'd never forget what Thor said. Thor had implied he'd molest his own daughter. Ember was terrified he'd. physically and mentally harm a son. But his daughter was peaceful and happy, smiling and giggling, and being playful with Charlotte. Charlotte was -not- a nanny, Charlotte was Ember's maker. He was caught in a daydream, all of the time, a dream that he had, that was everyone else's life. He looked away, distrusting himself, hating himself, hating everything, and left, wondering what on Earth he could do about his depression. He took some medicine, wondering if anything at all would help the sadness. It wasn't just his, it felt like everyone's. Ayria was fine. He could never hurt he. He would kill for her. As if that was anything different than what he already did for his loved ones. He'd bury them, eternal torture, if they were inappropriate with his child. His maker was spending a lot of time with her, but Ember had a lot of things to do. She knew he was stressed and drained.