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Futuristic Bite Your Tongue [RP]

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Characters
Here
● ● ● frank groves.txt
● ● ● stats.txt

MOOD: Worried, stressed

LOCATION: Palmetti's / Outside City Hall

INTERACTIONS: Richard/Boruth, Kel, Celeste, Albert & Walker

MENTIONS: screaming armadillo screaming armadillo queanbean queanbean mariee mariee Typhra Typhra ditto ditto

Frank put on a face of hurt at Kel’s words. “Mate, you’re killing me here. So many free offers… and yet not a single one aimed at your trusty regular.” His head quickly jerked to look at the girl again when she mentioned the recent murders that had been happening all around town. He did happen to know a thing or two about that… but he couldn’t exactly share that with the group. Sadly, it was top secret. The blonde ran a hand through his already messy hair and grinned. “Now, I’m not actually a vampire. But if I were, maybe wearing garlic around your neck would repel me?” He let out a laugh after that and returned to look at his empty glass, still chuckling. Just as he was about to order a shot or two of something tasty, he felt the phone in his pocket vibrate.


He squinted at the bright screen. Several missed calls and a bunch of texts from Walker. Just by looking at the lock screen, he could read the last one: “The mayor is dead! The mayor is dead!” Despite his intoxicated mind not quite grasping the severity of the situation, he quickly tapped his teammate’s name to call him back. “Are you taking the piss, mate? Where are you?” His voice was a bit agitated as his stress levels were rising, but you were still able to hear the alcohol through the phone.


The man pocketed his phone again and gave an apologetic look to the group that had gathered. “Terribly sorry, lads, but I’ve gotta go see a man about a dog.” He rose from his seat onto unsteady legs and leaned over the bar, looking at Kel. “Hey, what about a shot for the road, ey?”


As he exited Palmetti’s, the cold air bit into him and he sobered up a bit. “Fuck… what way is City Hall?” he murmured. After giving the maps app a look on his phone, he set on his way. Frank was a tall fellow and his legs, therefore, allowed for quite long steps, but the alcohol in his system prevented him from going very fast. Eventually, he got there though, and when he saw the building ablaze, he ran the last bit.


“What the bloody hell happened here, Hernández?” Frank’s hands came to rest on his knees as he bent down slightly, catching his breath and trying to stop the world from spinning so terribly. “Is- Is the mayor in there?” he panted. “He really is brown bread*, then, huh?”

*brown bread: cockney rhyming slang for dead
coded by frogmilk

Frank put on a face of hurt at Kel’s words. “Mate, you’re killing me here. So many free offers… and yet not a single one aimed at your trusty regular.” His head quickly jerked to look at the girl again when she mentioned the recent murders that had been happening all around town. He did happen to know a thing or two about that… but he couldn’t exactly share that with the group. Sadly, it was top secret. The blonde ran a hand through his already messy hair and grinned. “Now, I’m not actually a vampire. But if I were, maybe wearing garlic around your neck would repel me?” He let out a laugh after that and returned to look at his empty glass, still chuckling. Just as he was about to order a shot or two of something tasty, he felt the phone in his pocket vibrate.


He squinted at the bright screen. Several missed calls and a bunch of texts from Walker. Just by looking at the lock screen, he could read the last one: “The mayor is dead! The mayor is dead!” Despite his intoxicated mind not quite grasping the severity of the situation, he quickly tapped his teammate’s name to call him back. “Are you taking the piss, mate? Where are you?” His voice was a bit agitated as his stress levels were rising, but you were still able to hear the alcohol through the phone.


The man pocketed his phone again and gave an apologetic look to the group that had gathered. “Terribly sorry, lads, but I’ve gotta go see a man about a dog.” He rose from his seat onto unsteady legs and leaned over the bar, looking at Kel. “Hey, what about a shot for the road, ey?”


As he exited Palmetti’s, the cold air bit into him and he sobered up a bit. “Fuck… what way is City Hall?” he murmured. After giving the maps app a look on his phone, he set on his way. Frank was a tall fellow and his legs, therefore, allowed for quite long steps, but the alcohol in his system prevented him from going very fast. Eventually, he got there though, and when he saw the building ablaze, he ran the last bit.


“What the bloody hell happened here, Hernández?” Frank’s hands came to rest on his knees as he bent down slightly, catching his breath and trying to stop the world from spinning so terribly. “Is- Is the mayor in there?” he panted. “He really is brown bread, then, huh?”

*brown bread: cockney rhyming slang for dead
 
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image0.jpg

Jon Duggan

Location: Outside Palmetti’s Pub


He sniffed, furrowing his brows as he cast a side eye glance at the sky.

“I’d figure folk wouldn’t be hosting bonfires with everything going on...” He muttered, leveling his gaze with the street again as his objective grew closer. It didn’t take long for his steps to die off, the sound of his boots grinding to a halt while he turned completely towards the smoky glow he saw in the distance.

“Damn, that is one big ass bonfire.“ His amusement quickly shifted to one of immense disappointment as he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. In a way, he was correct, since it was one big bonfire. In the near center of the city. Right where the city hall was.

”Oh, shit.“ The fanatic pushed up the brim of his cavalry hat, peering out from under the grey fabric.

He didn’t make any further comments, but judging by how he pursed his lips, he had a vague idea that there was, in fact, not a big party going down at city hall. Shaking his head, the fanatic turned away and tipped his hat back down again, the glow from the distant flames fading away from the golden ornament on his headgear and leaving it dull once more. It would be rash for him to assume that the Accursed set fire to a valuable government building, but he also had his doubts regarding the flames being a simple accident. It would take a lot more than an unattended candle to do that kind of damage.

A tattooed hand reached into his jacket, touching the LeMat that rested atop his chest. He didn’t intend on popping off any shots that night, but he had a feeling that the situation just escalated. He could’ve diverted his course to the source of the flames, but it was too far away. By the time he showed up, it would most likely be overrun with EMS and law enforcement, not to mention the lack of culprits since they no doubt would’ve been long gone before his arrival. It was best for him to stay on the path he was currently heading, and complete his primary goal for the night. Given enough time, he would be able to adapt and make a plan that could adequately counter the efforts of the vampire cell that gripped the city. Time also wasn’t a luxury though, and Jon was constantly reminded of the finite amount of minutes he had left before another catastrophic event occurred.

Jaw tightening, he picked up the pace. The pub would be in view shortly.

Minutes later, he was standing across the street from Palmetti’s Pub. Nearby, there was still small amounts of commotion regarding the body that was found nearby. He avoided the groups that were gawking at the scene and instead focused on the pub, which wasn’t too much to look at. He had a guess as to what he’d encounter when he walked in there, but he wasn’t absolutely positive. He needed to rectify that, since he did not see the appeal of walking into a situation where the odds weren’t stacked in his favor. There were a few ways to go about taking care of business, such as drawing one out or getting a feel for the establishment by peering inside a window, perhaps. Alternatively, he could wait for someone to step out of the pub and question them. Perhaps a combination of the two were in order.

With hands tucked into his pockets, the man took lengthy and deliberate strides across the street while he withdrew a pack of Marlboro’s and a flip lighter. The moment he popped open the pack and slipped one between his lips, his teeth clenched down on one another. Drawing closer to the suspected hotspot, Jon began to hear quiet, insignificant whispers reaching out to him. He wasn’t quite sure if they were a sign from the God he prayed to, or if it was his own warped mind playing tricks on him, but either way, they were his telltale sign that he was in the right place. Between his own instinctual guidance and the information he gained before, his doubt was nothing short of snuffed out simultaneously with the flame of the steel lighter. Decisively, he made his plan then and there. He’d enjoy his smoke, wait, and make an entry if he needed to get a closer look at something.

Two fingers held the tobacco stick between his lips, and as he took the final step towards the somewhat dirty window, he watched the scene like a hawk in search of a mouse. It would be difficult to see him with what little illumination there was just outside the pub, but between the streetlights and the orange ember atop his cigarette, his face would be distinguishable for a fleeting second.

A bearded lower face was outlined by the dim orange glow, but the eyes obscured by an unusual hat. The intentions of the outsider wouldn’t be clear, not for that instant anyways, but as the glow faded back to near darkness, something changed. One final puff was deprived from the cigarette, and again his face came into view. The fanatic‘s eyes were plainly visible as he lifted his head, and they were glaring hard into the room at something, or someone. When the glow dimmed, it did not peak a third time.

Knuckles marked with black ink and, most notably, an ornate cross, closed around the fleeting warm light. Afterwards, not an inch of the man or his unsettling demeanor were visible beyond the glass pane.

The pub door creaked. Apparently, he needed a much closer look at something, or someone.



”I have seen him in the watchfires, of a hundred circling camps. I have builded him an altar, in the evening dews and damps. I have read his righteous sentence, by the dim and flaring lamps! His day is marching on!”


Interactions: None.

Mentions: ???
 
DIONE ROUX
location Cathedral / outfit x

Her heels echoed in the cathedral as she walked down the empty aisle, letting her hand run along the gothic mahogany pews that lined up on either side of her. The sun had yet to rise, and thus the only light illuminating the big space was the soft glow of the candles and the golden chandeliers hanging from the ogival arches in the ceiling.

The woman came to a halt before the altar. The entire wall, though not very large, was a golden mural of various golden statues. It had a stained-glass window neatly integrated in the center, and before it stood a statue of Saint Mary holding the Christ. Had it not been night, the light from the window would have cast a beautiful light over the holy virgin. The brunette must have stood there – looking at the intricacies of the altar – for well past half an hour before she heard footsteps behind her.

“Miss Roux.” The warm and familiar voice of Father Giordano echoed behind her. She turned around, a manicured hand fixing her black birdcage veil. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she bade him a nod. “Father Giordano.” The two had known each other for what would soon be fifty years and it saddened her to see her friend old and gray, knowing fully well that she would outlive him.

─────────────────​

Dione knelt in the dark booth, the wooden lattice that separated the two casting shadows on her down-turned face. She crossed herself and then clasped her hands together. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She whispered softly.

“How long has it been since your last confession?” The question elicited a humorous huff of air from the vampire. “I do not remember.” She raised her eyes to look at the man through the lattice. “What are you doing here at such an hour, Father?”

“Well, right when I was about to head home, the Lord told me to wait a little longer. You are the first to enter since then. Now, my child, what is troubling you? In His presence you are safe.” There was something in the Father’s voice that soothed her, allowed her to let her guard down for the first time in a long time. There was a pause as she gathered her thoughts.

“I… I know that I have fallen from His grace. Time and time again I have sinned, without any regard for what the Lord wants me to do. And yet-“ The brunette drew a sharp breath and looked up at the dark ceiling of the booth, trying to keep the tears that were pooling in her eyes from falling down. “I always believed He would forgive me…” Her grip on her own hands tightened until her knuckles whitened and the hot, uncomfortable pressure of holding back tears spread from her eyes to her forehead and nose.

“My child, God’s love does not waver. His love does not simply cease for his children. Perhaps that is why he sent us both here tonight.”

“But I am no child of God…” Her voice was weak and in her most vulnerable state, the woman was nothing but a child crying for her parents’ forgiveness.

“Dione, cara mia. God gave you the gift of life. You were born in love just like me, He has not turned his back on you. Dry your tears, my child.” Though his words were reassuring, Dione knew something Father Giordano did not. She sniffled and brought her hands to dry the tears.

“I happen to know for a fact that He has, for I am but a vicious beast, Father.” She whispered softly, thinking back on the bloody crucifix in the mayor’s office. Dione had angered the Lord and was now to endure his punishment.

“What makes you believe that to be the truth?” The expression on Father Giordano’s face was puzzling. Dione did not know if the old man was worried or just deep in thought. The old Italian knew Dione well: who she was and what she did; what she had been and what she had become. Surely, if he found out about her involvement in the death of the Mayor — her involvement in the demise of his kind — even he would turn his back on her.

“The other day I burned myself when touching a crucifix.” Slowly, the woman was regaining control of her composure. Still, her breathing was jagged.

“Mmm, that is indeed troubling news.” He grumbled. “But surely, through penance, you, my child, may return to the Lord’s embrace.” Dione stayed silent for a moment, wiping away the makeup that had ran from her eyes.

“That is all, Father.” Her hands clasped together once more as she quietly recited the Act of Contrition, to which Father Giordano responded with: “Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”

Just as the brunette was about the get up, Giordano looked at her through the lattice for the first time since they stepped into the confessional. “Before you go, Dione. Please, tread carefully and be prudent about who you ally yourself with, cara mia. The times are troubling.” The vampire blinked slowly and gave the old man a half-hearted smile. “I will, thank you, Father Giordano. You are a most valued friend.” The vampire bid the old man farewell before exiting the cathedral. Once at the door, she gave the place one last look before stepping outside. She would not be returning.

It had become glaringly obvious to Dione that in aiding Mr. Jack Lightonn in the assassination of the Mayor, his blood was on her hands and she no longer had a choice of who to ally with. She had become too involved to take a step back now, and surely Jack would come after her if she did.

Perhaps, to be a true Justice I must reject all that ties me to my humanity, she thought as headed into the night.


─────────────────　★　─────────────────

mentions: ditto ditto

coded by frogmilk


Her heels echoed in the cathedral as she walked down the empty aisle, letting her hand run along the gothic mahogany pews that lined up on either side of her. The sun had yet to rise, and thus the only light illuminating the big space was the soft glow of the candles and the golden chandeliers hanging from the ogival arches in the ceiling.


The woman came to a halt before the altar. The entire wall, though not very large, was a golden mural of various golden statues. It had a stained-glass window neatly integrated in the center, and before it stood a statue of Saint Mary holding the Christ. Had it not been night, the light from the window would have cast a beautiful light over the holy virgin. The brunette must have stood there – looking at the intricacies of the altar – for well past half an hour before she heard footsteps behind her.


“Miss Roux.” The warm and familiar voice of Father Giordano echoed behind her. She turned around, a manicured hand fixing her black birdcage veil. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she bade him a nod. “Father Giordano.” The two had known each other for what would soon be fifty years and it saddened her to see her friend old and gray, knowing fully well that she would outlive him.


──────────────────────────────────​


Dione knelt in the dark booth, the wooden lattice that separated the two casting shadows on her down-turned face. She crossed herself and then clasped her hands together. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She whispered softly.


“How long has it been since your last confession?” The question elicited a humorous huff of air from the vampire. “I do not remember.” She raised her eyes to look at the man through the lattice. “What are you doing here at such an hour, Father?”


“Well, right when I was about to head home, the Lord told me to wait a little longer. You are the first to enter since then. Now, my child, what is troubling you? In His presence you are safe.” There was something in the Father’s voice that soothed her, allowed her to let her guard down for the first time in a long time. There was a pause as she gathered her thoughts.


“I… I know that I have fallen from His grace. Time and time again I have sinned, without any regard for what the Lord wants me to do. And yet-“ The brunette drew a sharp breath and looked up at the dark ceiling of the booth, trying to keep the tears that were pooling in her eyes from falling down. “I always believed He would forgive me…” Her grip on her own hands tightened until her knuckles whitened and the hot, uncomfortable pressure of holding back tears spread from her eyes to her forehead and nose.


“My child, God’s love does not waver. His love does not simply cease for his children. Perhaps that is why he sent us both here tonight.”


“But I am no child of God…” Her voice was weak and in her most vulnerable state, the woman was nothing but a child crying for her parents’ forgiveness.


“Dione, cara mia. God gave you the gift of life. You were born in love just like me, He has not turned his back on you. Dry your tears, my child.” Though his words were reassuring, Dione knew something Father Giordano did not. She sniffled and brought her hands to dry the tears.


“I happen to know for a fact that He has, for I am but a vicious beast, Father.” She whispered softly, thinking back on the bloody crucifix in the mayor’s office. Dione had angered the Lord and was now to endure his punishment.


“What makes you believe that to be the truth?” The expression on Father Giordano’s face was puzzling. Dione did not know if the old man was worried or just deep in thought. The old Italian knew Dione well: who she was and what she did; what she had been and what she had become. Surely, if he found out about her involvement in the death of the Mayor — her involvement in the demise of his kind — even he would turn his back on her.


“The other day I burned myself when touching a crucifix.” Slowly, the woman was regaining control of her composure. Still, her breathing was jagged.


“Mmm, that is indeed troubling news.” He grumbled. “But surely, through penance, you, my child, may return to the Lord’s embrace.” Dione stayed silent for a moment, wiping away the makeup that had ran from her eyes.


“That is all, Father.” Her hands clasped together once more as she quietly recited the Act of Contrition, to which Father Giordano responded with: “Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”


Just as the brunette was about the get up, Giordano looked at her through the lattice for the first time since they stepped into the confessional. “Before you go, Dione. Please, tread carefully and be prudent about who you ally yourself with, cara mia. The times are troubling.” The vampire blinked slowly and gave the old man a half-hearted smile. “I will, thank you, Father Giordano. You are a most valued friend.” The vampire bid the old man farewell before exiting the cathedral. Once at the door, she gave the place one last look before stepping outside. She would not be returning.


It had become glaringly obvious to Dione that in aiding Mr. Jack Lightonn in the assassination of the Mayor, his blood was on her hands and she no longer had a choice of who to ally with. She had become too involved to take a step back now, and surely Jack would come after her if she did.


Perhaps, to be a true Justice I must reject all that ties me to my humanity, she thought as headed into the night.
 






Kel Deluccina

-◃' - , -◃▸≎◂▹- , - '▹-

location: Palmetti's Pub
-◃ mood: Playful ▹-
interactions: Frank ( frogmilk frogmilk ) Jon ( Inb4Cloaker Inb4Cloaker )

-◃' - , -◃▸≎◂▹- , - '▹-
​

Kel took a moment away from collecting his thoughts to turn his attention back to Frank. A man about a... dog? Were pets allowed at his apartment? He tipped his head sideways and squinted his eyes, trying to read the expression on his face. "Oi..." He piped up when he noticed his wobbling. "Well, take care then. Moite. I better not see you here tomorrow." If only Kel knew what his frantic friend was about to stumble into.

The news of the fire had yet to reach the dinky television in the corner - it was often turned to the races and volume off anyhow, but something like this wasn't likely to stay off the radar for long.

“Hey, what about a shot for the road, ey?” Kel furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, then grinned and leaned back. He lifted up his fingers into the shape of two guns and winked, imitating twin gunshots. "Bang. Skedaddle." It looked like he was in a hurry and the shorter male could recognize when a man was past the point of liquor being liquid courage.

Once Frank had stumbled out of the bar and headed on his way, Kel leaned back against the countertop with a sigh, still looking up at Boruth's puzzling face. "I wonder what's got him going."

Glancing toward the window again, he hesitated and held his breath. Rubbed his eyes. In the moments between this strange vision and the arrival of an additional stranger Kel was sure he saw some looming figure just outside - one with glowing eyes. He glanced at his discarded glass and rubbed his bottom lip with his tongue. Maybe drinking on the job wasn't all that great of an idea after all.

Just kidding.

He heard the door being pushed open and lifted a sideways smile to whoever the new patron might be. Tall, dark, horribly out of place. What else was new? "Hey, welcome. Pop on over for a drink if you'd like. They don't bite. Probably. I might though, but at least I'm behind the bar." This man carried with him a strange aura - gloomy and oppressive. Although, who was he to judge.

-◃' -◃▸≎◂▹- '▹-
​
 
Albert Breckenridge


Location - Palmetti's


Outfit -Blouse & Vest


Tags - queanbean queanbean


"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm pretty sure the menu there is older than the owner himself. May he rest in peace. Ah- he's not dead or anything. Just probably sleeping upstairs. Our main cook chef guy also already went home, but I can at least hook you up with a drink." The bartender said, instantly shutting down his request.

Brecky slumped. Most hole in the wall pubs had mediocre food, maybe even a Smack Barm Pey Wet if they were crazy. Shame it didn’t seem they had anything weird on the menu either, it would have been a hoot to take a video of it. Maybe there was another pub around… after quickly checking, no, there wasn’t any that was shorter than a fifteen minute walk from here. Damn. Well, guess it would be fine to just lie low here and hope nothing eventful happens.

After hearing enough about vampires in this pub, he thought he’d crack a joke. A distasteful one perhaps.

“Well, if I knew you didn’t have any grub maybe I should’ve asked if you had blood on tap!” He winked and slapped his knee like some sort of dad laughing at his own goof. Ah… that was almost true wasn’t it? Except that he wasn’t a dad. Certainly old enough to be one though.

As soon as one patron left, another came in. Oh man this one was kind of… somber looking. Oh wait. Humans have turned into giant kool-aid pouches around here. That may be something worth noting.

“Wow, didn’t know this place was popular, eh bartender? Is it always like this?”

At that he raised his arms and stretched. Some say that you can perceive things faster in life or death situations. In a fraction of a second, one can analyze a situation in the same level of depth a master artist can dissect the Sistine Chapel ceiling, taking in the brush strokes, crying over the pure poetry in the lighting… Yes… In that same way, he realized that he had stretched too far back. The stool tipped too much, and he was falling. What was he to do? Grab onto the counter and chance ruining his nails? His phone… would it be okay? A thousand worries flooded his mind and then. THUD. He was on the ground. He laid there for a second.

“Y’know what? Maybe today just isn’t my day.”
code by valen t.
 
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Celeste
mood: emotional


location: . Palmetti's


outfit: link


interactions: . Typhra Typhra frogmilk frogmilk queanbean queanbean screaming armadillo screaming armadillo

Celeste was slightly overwhelmed at how much happened at once. It seemed that her comment had set off a stream of differing reactions, all of which she took very close notice too. Firstly, one person spoke up about the murders but then decided to order food, the last thing on Celeste’s mind.

Then, the somewhat Norse looking man started talking. “Answers are undoubtedly kept close to the vest so to speak. Information control is of utmost importance in a time such as now or else there comes the risk of mob justice forming a new complication in an already dire situation. Fear and desperation are dangerous beasts and why we feign normality. Quite simply, our hands are bound until those whom are tasked with solving the issue unbind them."

Celeste almost had whiplash at the amount of difficult words he used in quick succession, not in the way that she couldn’t understand but more that no one in the 20th century spoke like that…right? “So…you’re suggesting we just wait it out?” She glared at him suspiciously for a second, taking note of the man’s appearance and subtly checking for fangs or glittering skin, both of which were not visible. Weird…

Her intense research was interrupted by the somewhat small bartender speaking up. "Oi…Is this guy bothering you? I can kick 'em out or beat him up if he is. Free of charge.“ He seemed to be referring to the drunk Englishman who seemed to recognize her from somewhere. She shrugged, waving her hand and taking another sip from her gross drink. ”From experience, the bad things only happen when you’re alone.“ Truthfully, she didn’t feel at ease at all, but she would never let them know that. She hadn’t imagined it to be so busy, otherwise she would have picked another time to snoop. “Now, I’m not actually a vampire. But if I were, maybe wearing garlic around your neck would repel me?” The drunk guy spoke up again in response to her earlier question, laughing quite loudly at his own joke. Celeste chuckled, even though it didn’t necessarily seem like she found the joke funny.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m rather worried about this whole situation. Maybe your solution is to drink it away but some people have lost family members, you know. People are dying.” Celeste’s voice was stern but not aggressive, more empathetic. For a second she thought about her mother’s face and she clenched her fist, determined. “Look, I’m just…" She sighed. "I need to find more information.” Before anyone could react, her somewhat emotional outburst was interrupted by the person who wanted to order food before, who had cracked a dad joke and then slapped his knee laughing before falling backwards from his chair. Celeste was slightly caught of guard before letting her soft, although nervous laugh ring through the pub, finding the situation absolutely hilarious. “Are you okay, sir?” She slid off of her chair and held out a hand to help him get up.


code by valen t.
 
It turned out that the Brit had to make a sudden exit, wobbly knees taking him away to an apparently very important mutt. Or something. Had he been his younger, more predatory self, Boruth would have likely gone after such a meal just as hyenas would a wounded zebra. It would have been nothing personal of course, after all vampires gotta eat too. But that was not the case, the Brit who was surprisingly capable on two drunken legs was free to chase after his hound unspoiled. The strange excuse a fleeting detail amongst the odd menagerie presently at hand.

As if on cue, the newest little peculiarity of Palmetti spoke to him, the look she also gave went unnoticed. Probably for the best as she was already questionable enough without sending out disconcerting stares. From the corner of his eye the old one silently regarded her for a brief moment before deciding to answer, “Or become one who unbinds.” He would return his attention to his empty glass with a mysterious smile playing at his lips.

Then, while a certain vampire made an ill-timed cheesy joke, Boruth felt it. Hairs on the back of his neck rose while an electric current coursed through his body. An almost exhilarating sensation he had not felt in such a long time. Yet this wasn’t the time nor place, and beneath his unchanged demeanor he wondered if it would be better to do a backdoor getaway. Perhaps. Luckily the original Palmetti oddball had hinted at where it is. Maybe. Could be a door to somewhere not good.

The sudden clatter of wood and thud of a body on floor roused Boruth from his thoughts. He almost lazily turned his head to look at the fallen man, a faux look of concern across his face. As the girl’s laughter filled the pub his focus returned to Kel and he offered a little joke, “I would have wagered on that happening to him.” He nodded to the seat vacated by Frank.


Interactions: queanbean queanbean mariee mariee ​
 









Katerina





Location: forests near Jack's lair

Outfit: black dress with pleats

Interactions: none





The night air was soothing on her skin. Now that she had drunk the blood of many she felt strong again... at least physically. There was forest for miles around her, the untamable spirit of nature surrounded her. These were the rare moments when she felt at least some modicum of peace. The branches stirring above her and the faint susurration of leaves like a rasping voice made her feel tranquil. Or as tranquil as such a dark-hearted creature such as she could feel.

Now, she came upon a large pool of water, a small lake. Moonlight glittered across its surface, fragments of light trapped beneath the surface. Closing her eyes, she summoned the shadows around her and a large black scythe which reflected no light solidified in her hand. She whirled it around a few times then caused it to vanish. She hadn't even needed it in their latest mission. And the mayor was dead. Things had proceeded rather quickly after that. Jack's plan was in place.

No matter how she tried to avoid it, a hollow feeling rang in her chest. She had known it all her life. Would things ever change? Perhaps not. She belonged to Jack--and that was simultaneously enough and not enough. That was the extent of her self knowledge. She couldn't fathom such a positive thing such as love, for she had never known it. She couldn't fathom what she felt towards her master besides an enduring sense of loyalty. What life could she have beyond this one? she pondered as she stared into the waters. Her reflection depicted a fragmented face carved of ivory and luminous red eyes the same shade as blood. Silver hair poured down past her shoulders, and dark red were her lips. She was bored. Perhaps she'd seek the company of an unsuspecting human tonight, who may or may not be dead by sunrise. She contemplated it, then decided she liked her own company even better.

So the crickets sang as she continued to stare into the flickering apparition of her reflection. The night passed, and soon it was day again.



code by Stardust Galaxy​
 
Crimson King | The Silent One
Ronin Valpier

If I’m wrong this is going to sound weird. But if I’m right then...Ronin sighed heavily. He let’s go and nudges her towards one of the more “close to death homeless people“ He gives her a knowing nod as if to signal It’s Okay. close eye on her. He bit into her neck to leave two small holes in her neck. He had a plan. He picked her up. It was either she was light or the late night “gym” visits were paying off. His face turned calm and he channeled his inner theater kid. He then walked out of the alley and headed toward the pub. “Let the act begin.” He burst through the door fear showing on his face. “HELP SOMEONE HELP. I-I found her in the alley way. She was covered in blood. I don’t know what happened.” He tried to feel shocked. He gasped for air and stared heaving. He mixed in some panic in his words as well. “I don’t know what to do. Is there a doctor here?” He almost started to feel the way he was acting but he quickly cut that out. He acted as though he was fighting the fear and let some calmness flow in. He heaved in and out. Then...thud. The sound of two bodies hitting the wooden floor. Of course Ronin wasn’t actually knocked out, nor did he faint. He simply acted as though he did. He would see what they would do. This has been an interesting night. Ow my nose....​
 








Kel and Olwen

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Location: Palmetti's | Olwen's Home
-◃ Mood: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah ▹-
Interactions: Kryptic Kryptic screaming armadillo screaming armadillo mariee mariee Inb4Cloaker Inb4Cloaker Typhra Typhra

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​
When the bloodied forms of Ronin and Olwen came stumbling back into the bar it seemed like time stopped. The air stilled. Kel turned his head to the two in what seemed like slow motion and when his eyes followed them to the ground he went white as a sheet. "What... happened?" He choked on his words and looked, wide-eyed, as they both fell unconscious on the creaky wooden boards. He wanted to rush over immediately but it felt like his boots were bolted to the ground.

With shallow breaths and a pounding heart he slowly managed to move, dragging step by step behind the bar. I knew she was taking too long. I should have checked. Is she... A moment of panic passed when noticed the swell of her breathing. Alive. Seeing a sign of life gave the boy a bit more courage and he finally wobbled over to kneel beside his best friend. "Wen? Oey? O? Hey hun, hey?" His fingers reached for her outstretched hand, which suddenly twitched.

The first thing Olwen saw when she came to was the terrified and teary face of a familiar ginger bean. The second thing she noticed was the hunger. Or, more specifically, the lack of it. Oh no, play it cool. "You...'re going to drip snot on me... you baby." She tried to crack a smile but winced instead as a shooting pain stung her head. "Gh-" Kel winced with her and reached over to clasp her hand and help as she sat herself up. "Ah... my head is throbbing... What-?" She paused mid-sentence and felt her mouth go dry.

Why was she back in the pub? How did she get there? Her eyes fell upon the falsely collapsed Ronin and for a moment she thought her heart stopped cold. It couldn't be that she... but as she subtly examined him from the short distance she didn't notice any tell-tale pricks - none that were immediately visible anyway. Rather, a dull warmth trickling down her collar told a much different story than the one she feared most at the moment. Lifting a hand to her neck painted a dark red smear of blood across her palm. "I..." Her head throbbed again and she doubled over, sending Kel into a little panic as he squeezed her other fist. "Wen! Are you ok? You should go to a hospital or.. or something." He sputtered and she shook her head. "No I... I think I'm alright. Just a little dizzy." Truth be told, her head was spinning out of control with fuzzy and dark memories of the events that unfolded before she and Ronin came crashing back into the bar. It sickened her, and a sticky sensation filled her mouth.

"I just need to go home. For a bit." Kel could tell there was a deeper concern there, but didn't pry. He was prone to joking but not when it concerned his good friend's health. The ruffled-headed male looked over his shoulder at the undoubtedly confused patrons, then chewed his lip. "Can you hang out until I close the bar? I'll set up a quiet spot in the back room?" She shook her head. "No I, I think I'm alright to get home on my own. I was just a little spooked, honestly." What a lie. "I would be a little more concerned about Ronin, honestly. It looks like he hit the ground pretty hard." Olwen chuckled to hide the quivering of her lips. She could feel far too many eyes on the back of her head and it was making her skin crawl.

Kel wasn't having it. His brows furrowed as his grip on her hand tightened. "Are you crazy? You probably just got attacked by a vampire! You're lucky to still be alive! There's no way I'm letting you just walk out of here like nothing..." Olwen chewed her lip and cut him off with a whisper. "Please..." He paused. He was so weak to her, especially when she looked so desperate. "At least... let's get you in a cab or something. Ahh I wish Mason was here to help you home. It doesn't look like I can depend much on Ronin right now..." Kel looked sternly at her. "You owe me big time for letting you go like this you know. B-i-g t-i-m-e." She nodded and, with a little help, rose to her feet. They called a cab and while she waited she sat awkwardly in a quiet corner, trying to avoid the eyes of the others. They also gingerly hoisted the massive body of Ronin against the wall and tended to him with a cool rag on his forehead. What a night.

By the time the cab arrived the bleeding had stopped and she had nearly fully come to a conscious stability. "Sorry for crashing the party like that." Olwen sheepishly grinned as she slipped out the door. Kel kept an eye at her the whole time, though he had returned to his post behind the bar. He took a hard shot. Maybe two. A few minutes later his phone buzzed with a message from her saying she had gotten home safe and sound.

"Ahhh what the hell." He groaned, mushing his face in his hands and brushing his fingers through his hair. "I'm going to have to shut down the bar for the night, I think. The floor isn't all that unfamiliar with blood and other various fluids being spilled, but Boss'll have me by the neck if it leaves a stain." It was mostly a joke, but also an excuse to clear whatever sort of scene he had just witnessed. "Hey, Ronin. How're you feeling?" He called.


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The cab ride was quiet. Luckily, darkness and distance didn't make much an environment for idle chatting from either party. The cabby dropped her off at her front door and she walked up the shabby steps to the creaking little apartment on the third floor. Keys jingled in the lock. Once the door was closed behind her, she finally breathed. "Ronin, you idiot..." But her voice was shaking. In a daze, she dropped her bag and clothes along the way to the bathroom.

The shower filled the room with steam until she could no longer look at herself in the mirror. Glowing, healthy, warm. She shuddered. The marks on her neck had mostly disappeared by now - she could only assume where those had come from and made a mental note to address it later with the newest keeper of her secret. Shit. She clutched the edge of the sink and bit her lip until it bled. One scarlet bead spattered into the sink, and then she climbed into the shower. As water poured down her face and body, washing away the dried smears of crimson, she closed her eyes and relived what she had done. I shouldn't have let myself go that long. I should have known I would lose it... Then, she sat down under the spray, curled her knees to her chest, and cried.


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"Ronin... n-no, don't let me..." Her trembling fingers clutched to his shirt until they were suddenly empty and grasping at air. He turned away. The weak man clinging to life behind her made a sound. Darkness consumed her...

What became of her in that moment was no longer a weak and desperate girl who loathed what she had to do for survival. It was a starving monster with an insatiable bloodlust. Her eyes gleamed silver and it was like she dissolved into a shadow, ripping into the defenseless men leaning against the building. Barely surviving. Let's call it a quicker means to an end - she was helping them. Ending their suffering, the creature inside spoke with a snarl that was much more alluring and sensible than it should have been. She ate her fill, and then some. They didn't even have time to scream as every predatory instinct inside her exploded in one moment. They were little more than gore within moments. And what remained among the carnage was a panting, shivering female with wildness in her quickly-fading eyes. Blood soaked her face, jaws, chest... Olwen had just enough time to observe what she had done, and then darkness returned.


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When the bloodied forms of Ronin and Olwen came stumbling back into the bar it seemed like time stopped. The air stilled. Kel turned his head to the two in what seemed like slow motion and when his eyes followed them to the ground he went white as a sheet. "What... happened?" He choked on his words and looked, wide-eyed, as they both fell unconscious on the creaky wooden boards. He wanted to rush over immediately but it felt like his boots were bolted to the ground.

With shallow breaths and a pounding heart he slowly managed to move, dragging step by step behind the bar. I knew she was taking too long. I should have checked. Is she... A moment of panic passed when noticed the swell of her breathing. Alive. Seeing a sign of life gave the boy a bit more courage and he finally wobbled over to kneel beside his best friend. "Wen? Oey? O? Hey hun, hey?" His fingers reached for her outstretched hand, which suddenly twitched.

The first thing Olwen saw when she came to was the terrified and teary face of a familiar ginger bean. The second thing she noticed was the hunger. Or, more specifically, the lack of it. Oh no, play it cool. "You...'re going to drip snot on me... you baby." She tried to crack a smile but winced instead as a shooting pain stung her head. "Gh-" Kel winced with her and reached over to clasp her hand and help as she sat herself up. "Ah... my head is throbbing... What-?" She paused mid-sentence and felt her mouth go dry. Why was she back in the pub? How did she get there? Her eyes fell upon the falsely collapsed Ronin and for a moment she thought her heart stopped cold. It couldn't be that she... but as she subtly examined him from the short distance she didn't notice any tell-tale pricks - none that were immediately visible anyway. Rather, a dull warmth trickling down her collar told a much different story than the one she feared most at the moment. Lifting a hand to her neck painted a dark red smear of blood across her palm. "I..." Her head throbbed again and she doubled over, sending Kel into a little panic as he squeezed her other fist. "Wen! Are you ok? You should go to a hospital or.. or something." He sputtered and she shook her head. "No I... I think I'm alright. Just a little dizzy." Truth be told, her head was spinning out of control with fuzzy and dark memories of the events that unfolded before she and Ronin came crashing back into the bar. It sickened her, and a sticky sensation filled her mouth. "I just need to go home. For a bit." Kel could tell there was a deeper concern there, but didn't pry. He was prone to joking but not when it concerned his good friend's health. The ruffled-headed male looked over his shoulder at the undoubtedly confused patrons, then chewed his lip. "Can you hang out until I close the bar? I'll set up a quiet spot in the back room?" She shook her head. "No I, I think I'm alright to get home on my own. I was just a little spooked, honestly." What a lie. "I would be a little more concerned about Ronin, honestly. It looks like he hit the ground pretty hard." Olwen chuckled to hide the quivering of her lips. She could feel far too many eyes on the back of her head and it was making her skin crawl.

Kel wasn't having it. His brows furrowed as his grip on her hand tightened. "Are you crazy? You probably just got attacked by a vampire! You're lucky to still be alive! There's no way I'm letting you just walk out of here like nothing..." Olwen chewed her lip and cut him off with a whisper. "Please..." He paused. He was so weak to her, especially when she looked so desperate. "At least... let's get you in a cab or something. Ahh I wish Mason was here to help you home. It doesn't look like I can depend much on Ronin right now..." Kel looked sternly at her. "You owe me big time for letting you go like this you know. B-i-g t-i-m-e." She nodded and, with a little help, rose to her feet. They called a cab and while she waited she sat awkwardly in a quiet corner, trying to avoid the eyes of the others. They also gingerly hoisted the massive body of Ronin against the wall and tended to him with a cool rag on his forehead. What a night.

By the time the cab arrived the bleeding had stopped and she had nearly fully come to a conscious stability. "Sorry for crashing the party like that." Olwen sheepishly grinned as she slipped out the door. Kel kept an eye at her the whole time, though he had returned to his post behind the bar. He took a hard shot. Maybe two. A few minutes later his phone buzzed with a message from her saying she had gotten home safe and sound.

"Ahhh what the hell." He groaned, mushing his face in his hands and brushing his fingers through his hair. "I'm going to have to shut down the bar for the night, I think. The floor isn't all that unfamiliar with blood and other various fluids being spilled, but Boss'll have me by the neck if it leaves a stain." It was mostly a joke, but also an excuse to clear whatever sort of scene he had just witnessed. "Hey, Ronin. How're you feeling?" He called.

The cab ride was quiet. Luckily, darkness and distance didn't make much an environment for idle chatting from either party. The cabby dropped her off at her front door and she walked up the shabby steps to the creaking little apartment on the third floor. Keys jingled in the lock. Once the door was closed behind her, she finally breathed. "Ronin, you idiot..." But her voice was shaking. In a daze, she dropped her bag and clothes along the way to the bathroom. The shower filled the room with steam until she could no longer look at herself in the mirror. Glowing, healthy, warm. She shuddered. The marks on her neck had mostly disappeared by now - she could only assume where those had come from and made a mental note to address it later with the newest keeper of her secret. Shit. She clutched the edge of the sink and bit her lip until it bled. One scarlet bead spattered into the sink, and then she climbed into the shower. As water poured down her face and body, washing away the dried smears of crimson, she closed her eyes and relived what she had done. I shouldn't have let myself go that long. I should have known I would lose it... Then, she sat down under the spray, curled her knees to her chest, and cried.

"Ronin... n-no, don't let me..." Her trembling fingers clutched to his shirt until they were suddenly empty and grasping at air. He turned away. The weak man clinging to life behind her made a sound. Darkness consumed her...

What became of her in that moment was no longer a weak and desperate girl who loathed what she had to do for survival. It was a starving monster with an insatiable bloodlust. Her eyes gleamed silver and it was like she dissolved into a shadow, ripping into the defenseless men leaning against the building. Barely surviving. Let's call it a quicker means to an end - she was helping them. Ending their suffering, the creature inside spoke with a snarl that was much more alluring and sensible than it should have been. She ate her fill, and then some. They didn't even have time to scream as every predatory instinct inside her exploded in one moment. They were little more than gore within moments. And what remained among the carnage was a panting, shivering female with wildness in her quickly-fading eyes. Blood soaked her face, jaws, chest... Olwen had just enough time to observe what she had done, and then darkness returned.
 
Celeste
mood: scared/drunk


location: . Outside


outfit: link


interactions: none

TRIGGER WARNING: ASSAULT

Celeste’s laughter faded away as two unfamiliar people entered the bar, or more like fell into the bar. She jumped back like she was stung by a bee and went to stand behind the counter, to keep a barrier between her and the possible danger. Her hand clutched awkwardly into her bag until she found the knife she brought with her and she took it out, her hand trembling as she hid it behind her back. When the bartender rushed past her to help whoever had just entered, she smiled innocently and somewhat awkwardly, sucking in her stomach so he could pass easy. She noticed that the girl was bleeding, from two holes in her neck and almost wanted to jump out to shout “AHA! Vampires!”.

She stopped herself however and decided to keep a low profile, somewhat hiding but also leaning over the bar to see a little better. Eventually, the hurt girl got in a cab and the bartender announced that the bar would be closing for the night. Having seen enough action for a while herself, Celeste understood and prepared to leave as the barman passed her by again and softly bumped into her. The knife clattered on the floor, having slipped from her sweaty hands. “Oopsie! I found this on the counter!” She stuffed it into his hands, careful not to cut him and then grabbed her coat and hurried outside, swearing softly.

“Shit, now you’re defenseless!” She scolded herself as she went down the street, noticing she was slightly swaying as she walked. Guess those disgusting drinks were stronger than she thought. She arrived at the shady guy’s apartment not much later, since it was conveniently close to the bar. Just as she was jamming her keys into the lock repeatedly, the door opened from the inside and she kind of stumbled inside as she was supporting herself against it. “Woah, nelly!” She exclaimed and then scowled at the sight of her ‘landlord’ in the doorway. He actually looked quite drunk himself as he held the doorknob in his hand. “There you are.” His voice sounded different. “I was wondering where you went. Come in.”

Celeste was quite sure they agreed that he wouldn’t visit the apartment anymore and only had the keys in case of an emergency, but she didn’t argue and stumbled inside. He closed the door behind her and cleared his throat, turning towards her. “I wanted to talk. I think it’s time you start paying your debt.” He shuffled closed to her as he spoke. “Whaddoyamean? You said I could live here for free..ee.” Celeste replied, slurring her words softly. She was leaning her back against the fridge in the kitchen to stay upright, appearing somewhat casually. “I know what I said!” The guy shouted, which made the girl freeze up a little and goosebumps appeared down her back. “I just changed my mind.” One vein on the guy's head was swollen and it looked like it might burst. If he weren't yelling at her, Celeste would have laughed at it.

He was getting uncomfortably close to her and Celeste put her hands against his chest defensively, trying to push him away but failing to do so. “Look, that wasn’t the deal.” She tried to contest, but then looked at the state of him and her shoulders slumped. ”Whatever. I’ll get you your money.” She wasn’t sure how, but she was sure sober-her could come up with something. That was something she would worry about tomorrow.

”I don’t want money.” The guy’s eyes were wide now as he eyed her up and down and Celeste’s stomach filled with dread. ”Oh.” She whispered, the strength in her arms quickly deteriorating. ”I see.” She vaguely remembered the fact that she had left the knife at the bar and cursed. ”Look, I’m not into that. I'll leave. I'll find somewhere else to stay, okay? I’m sorry.” Her voice was trembling but she stared into his eyes without wavering, making sure her point came across. She went to turn around to leave.

“Don’t think so, sunshine.” The guy suddenly grabbed her wrist and started pulling her towards the couch. ”Listen, no, wait!” She struggled, her nails digging into his arm as she stumbled after him. She feverishly looked around. When they came past the lamp on the side table next to the couch, she managed to grab onto it with her off hand. Before the guy could react, she whipped it into the left side of his face, the hard stone of the lamp’s base connecting with his jaw with a crunch. He howled and fell to the ground, losing his grip on her wrist momentarily. She immediately sped outside, her bag slung sloppily over her shoulders. Her legs barely supported her as she thundered down the stairs, into the fresh night air. She kept running, down the street, back towards Palmetti’s, her heart beating in her throat. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."




code by valen t.
 
Albert Breckenridge


Location - Palmetti's


Outfit -Blouse & Vest


Tags - N/A

“Are you okay, sir?”

Brecky took her hand and got up, laughing just as hard as he did before the fall. “Yeah, yeah, heh, thanks for helping me up.”
Immediately he checked his phone. Pristine as ever, thank goodness. Well, the fall certainly made the air feel a little bit less stiff. A few smiles and chuckles could really relieve the tension… or was it just stale and boring here? He scrolled through his messages, quick to hide the cutesy video game background on his device. Nothing important was… Oh, perhaps the deed of the night was done? He should send out a text for an update… or not. He would find out soon enough right? Hopefully the one who just left wasn’t going to get caught in any crossfires. Ah who was he kidding, humans can get eaten up like the delicious little cakes they are for all he cared.

Then two fun characters came into the bar with cute red accents. “HELP SOMEONE HELP. I-I found her in the alley way. She was covered in blood. I don’t know what happened.” Silence is golden, they say. So perhaps laughing at this whole strange ordeal would be the equivalent of… copper? This was straight out of a drama: someone comes in with blood, it's near life and death! A call for a doctor rings into the air… in a bar full of people who probably have troubles keeping the water bill paid. The heartfelt dialogue between the bartender and the other one… Ah, it was getting boring. Should he say something now?

“Being bit by a vampire that’s… terrifying…” Albert said.

“I'm going to have to shut down the bar for the night, I think. The floor isn't all that unfamiliar with blood and other various fluids being spilled, but Boss'll have me by the neck if it leaves a stain.” Ah there it was: the boot. Now he had to leave the bar and figure what else to do during the night.

“I guess we might have to all get a ride, especially if vampires are out to-” And then Celeste ran out. “Okay well maybe some of us are braver than others… Well guess I’ll head out too… What a shame...”

He popped in a piece of gum. It was one of the things that helped him resist any vampiric urges, y’know how blood is. Should he grab a bite…? Maybe later. He spun to face the patrons to give a wink and peace sign before heading out the door. No food, no new friends, what was the point of even going there??
code by valen t.
 
The arrival of the divine warrior had generated a rising anticipation in the ancient one, so when the shouting started Boruth’s spine involuntarily stiffened. Turning he was actually surprised to see who were the sources of the commotion as evident by his raised brows. It would seem Kel’s worries were not at all unfounded. Eyes trained on the original barkeep’s bloodied form and her presumable savior he tried to recall just when he noticed the giant’s departure. Not that he carried any substantial suspicions, but certainly anybody would think it odd if things lined up properly.

Though his eyes remained on the two, using his peripheral vision he could just make out a blurry form wearing what he thought was an incredibly odd hat. Was that the troublesome one? Perhaps, but all Boruth cared about was how a situation like this would possibly capture the holy soldier’s attention. Eventually, while Kel was speaking to the bloodied one, he took his attention away and passed it to the peculiar vampire to his right and the empty space where another oddball used to be. Apparently the girl liked the view better from the opposite side of the bar. No matter.

Kel would understandably announce an early close to the evening, and while Boruth went through his wallet for an appropriate payment he was audience to the girl’s blunder. As she made a hasty exit he wondered just what would bring such an outwardly soft girl to such a place. However it was a passing curiosity, and Boruth would make his own exit not long after the other vampire’s much more flashy one.

The night may not have been young but there was still plenty of time for an old vampire to wander, and that was what he did. Never one to rush unless needed Boruth had not gone far from Palmetti’s after a considerable time. Despite the activity off in the distance this night was relatively peaceful. No muggers, no addicts tweaking, not even a single woman of the night. Boruth knew very well why they were taking the night off. It was for self-preservation. Every soul knew or felt the terrible danger that was gripping this city.

So why was the very same innocent rabbit he had spoken with at Palmetti’s running through this very city besieged by horror?
 
Celeste
mood: scared/drunk


location: . Outside


outfit: link


interactions: screaming armadillo screaming armadillo

The cold night air made Celeste's skin prickle and she quickly realized she had forgotten her winter coat at the man's house. "No matter." She muttered, hurrying down the street still while wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm. She kept glancing behind her to make sure no one was following her. When she had just finished looking again and her attention turned back towards the way she was walking, she noticed a dark figure walking towards her. Panic flooded into her and she immediately thought about crossing the street to make sure they didn't come close to each other. Maybe she could slip by unnoticed?

A better look at the person approaching made her stop in her tracks, however. She vaguely recognized the figure as the somewhat Norse God-looking guy from Palmetti's. Starting to walk faster again, looking behind her once, she approached Boruth hurriedly. "Dude, you need to help me out." She hissed between her teeth, feeling a little weak in the knees. "There's a guy." She made a grand gesture with her hands, looking impatient. Boruth raised his eyebrows questionably and looked behind her, in the direction Celeste kept throwing short glances. "Yeah, so he used to be my landlord kind of? Anyway I fucked up...I really fucked up. Now he's after me. Possibly." She shook her head to try and clear it and laughed a little at her own stupidity. The sound of it rang through the street and she briefly noticed her breathing formed small clouds in the cold air. "You probably think I'm crazy...Fuck." She laughed again. "But I swear, I didn't do anything. I just needed a place to stay." Briefly pinching the bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes and sighed, muttering. "I mean where else was I supposed to go after those vampire hunters killed my mom?" Her mouth was saying things before she could take the time to think about it and her words were more slurred than ever. "It's all fucked up man, you need to help me." She looked up to Boruth with big, pleading eyes and flushed cheeks.

code by valen t.
 
Had certain things not happened at Palmetti’s and he not been a millennia plus year old vampire, Boruth may have not been so wary of a strange, not particularly sober woman asking for help on a dark night in a sketchy part of town. He knew well the tricks of foxes being one himself. With that said, he was not expecting the young woman to mention vampire hunters. It seemed too impossible for a stranger to blabber about such matters, yet she was also drunk, or very good at pretending so, and peculiar. Was what she said true or simply part of a deceptive plot with she as the bait?

That matter he would have, and intended to, discern. With unblinking eyes he leaned toward the young woman, not terribly close but near enough to warrant his quiet words, “A mother killed by vampire hunters? Surely then you are well aware of what that implies of your own blood hmm? In this period of man such an admissionis quite dangerous." He paused just long enough to let those words linger, "Tell me little rabbit, what was your mother’s name? Speak now and without deceit should you truly desire my help.” The command was not at all severe however his tone had certainly lost the general friendliness from before. It was rather fitting for the current weather, chilled yet not unbearably cold.



Interaction: mariee mariee ​
 






Kel Deluccina

-◃' - , -◃▸≎◂▹- , - '▹-

location: mason's house
-◃ mood: annoyed ▹-
interactions: Mason ( Kryptic Kryptic )

-◃' - , -◃▸≎◂▹- , - '▹-
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Once everyone had cleared out of the bar and Kel managed to scrub away the spatters of lingering scarlet on the floor, he took a second to absorb the new silence of the night. Empty. Dark. Frightening. Usually, he would have relished in this eerie atmosphere. Tonight however... it hit a little too close to home. "Gah... I should have checked on her earlier." He scuffed his foot on the ground as he closed up and turned out the lights. "It just suddenly got so busy and..." He thought of how he was left all alone behind the bar to entertain the strange collection of guests and somehow his anger settled in the direction of Mason.

Kel practically stomped over to his tall friend's apartment, hardly thinking before finding himself there. He let himself in with the spare key granted to him for emergencies only and before he had even slammed the door shut behind him he was whining into the dark void. "Mason! I can't believe you left me there all alone! It was packed you know." He kicked off his shoes and dropped his jacket over a chair as he passed through the little kitchen. "I was so busy I couldn't even keep an eye on O. Do you wanna know what happened? She got frickin' attacked out there. And I didn't even have a clue until Ronin came stumblin' in with her bleedin' all over the place." He paused when he reached Mason's bedroom door, crossing his arms as he leaned against it. Then, in a much softer voice, "Ace, are you awake?"

-◃' -◃▸≎◂▹- '▹-
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Celeste
mood: scared/drunk


location: . Outside


outfit: link


interactions: screaming armadillo screaming armadillo

Celeste breathed out as she looked at the guy for a bit and somewhere, deep inside, she was slightly regretting her decision to trust him. His tone seemed anything but friendly right now. Maybe it had been a dumb decision, but there was no going back now.

“Uh…yeah. Well, my mom was Catherine Davore.” She whispered hastily. She was unsure what her late mother’s name could mean to this random guy, but it was probably in her own best interest to not lie to him. She swayed a bit, stabilizing herself again with a lot of effort. “Listen man, I don’t know what it means that they killed her. I didn’t know anything about this vampire shit. I still don’t. I just need a little help.” She glanced behind her once more, afraid her old landlord was still coming to get her and let out a nervous noise. “Can we please get out of here?”

code by valen t.
 
S k i p t w o - June 03
  • Index






    • 06:03. June 03.

    month three since the murders began. body number 201, 976. two weeks since maisen has taken office
    ​

    It had been two weeks since Theodore Maisen took office. He had made no public appearances since he had sworn in as mayor, nor had he made any public statements regarding the passing of the previous mayor. It was odd that this man was so tightlipped, for he had been a politician well-known for his loose lips, but the people of the city had shoved him into his position willingly, and they knew that there was no point in trying to remove him. Besides, most of them cared only that he was a leader who was preventing deaths and saving the city from what had come, in the recent month, by the words on pickets of those who cared about the wellbeing of the city beyond “we have yet to die”, to be known as Armageddon.

    It was understandable why. After the burning of the city hall, the city had dissolved into a day long, for it was impossible to miss the large billows of smoke coming from the inner city. There was no recovery for the building; it had been fully burned down. It was, however, very odd: there were no metallic objects left within, nor were there any remains of the fireproof safes. Still odder yet was the fact that this mayor had been so quick to offer to become mayor, and how those around him very quickly pushed him to the position of being mayor.

    It seemed, nearly, that he had beguiled these people in ways other than just with his words, but that remained to be seen.

    The number of murders had decreased in the city. Despite the posters pasted on the outside of the mayor’s dwelling place would have one believe, the city seemed to be in much less turmoil than usual. The Devoted, now organized by Theodore Maisen, had successfully exterminated “more than 250 vampires”, reportedly. Then again, no one’s word could truly be believed, for paper and ink and functioning printers and people with enough time and effort to do something as tedious as report death after death were hard to come by, and thus, no newspapers were released anymore.

    Maisen, supposedly, had everything under control. Yes, he definitely did, and thus, he needed no help. He had, essentially, become an autocrat, but that was okay. The streets were safe, yes they were, and children could laugh and play without the chance of being killed where they stood by monstrous creatures. The Devoted and their leader, Walker Hernández, were the protectors, the guiders of what was right, and that was all that mattered, and there was nothing to fear whatsoever.

    Nothing at all to fear. Nothing. Nothing.

    The darkness and stillness of tonight, however, seemed to suggest differently than what everyone was told. Why?

    In a ditch, just outside of a run-down hotel in the dark part of the city, was what was surely a lifeless child’s body, with two deep marks on its neck. Soon, surely, it would be discovered, and the Devoted and the police would come, and if it wasn't, it would sit there and rot away.

    Just inside that hotel happened to be a man in a white suit, though he seemed to be less of a man and more of a being, sipping tea at a table in the corner as he fingered through some newspaper. A woman stood behind him, silent, and if one were to simply glance at her, they would not see her. The two seemed to be waiting for someone-- or something-- to come.

    How sad this all was. In the quiet, in the stillness, an innocent life had been taken by such monstrous beings. What a cruel, cruel world this was.

    Perhaps this was why they called it Armageddon.

    Where shall we begin in this scene? Ah, there is so much to see, is there not?
    ​
    ​
     
    Last edited:
  • Index







    • JACK LIGHTONN    ​
    The man in the white suit let out a long breath through his nose as his eyes scanned the newspaper, which would not have seemed odd but for the fact that newspapers had ceased their running some three-odd months ago, and also the fact that, even three-odd months ago, only two newspapers ran for the whole city, and these newspapers were fully digitalized. Even now, those sites were defunct, so the news could not be accessed on the rare occurrence that one could find themselves a functioning laptop with functioning wireless internet.

    “How queer,” remarked the man beneath his breath, turning the paper with his hand in so robotic a way that it caused the receptionist’s eyes to shift over to him once again. “How dreadfully queer,” he muttered, and the receptionist looked away.

    The date at the top of the newspaper was June 03. This much was correct. The year, however, was 2065.

    That was nearly four decades ago, and yet this man— this odd man in the white suit— seemed so deeply enthralled with the writing that his eyes stayed glued to the outdated paper, even as he brought the intricately-painted porcelain cup to his lips to sip tea from it. Not only this, but his cold eyes often repeated the same motions over and over again, as if he were stuck on a couple of the lines.

    Finally, he looked up from the paper and to the clock with a gentle sigh. “Kate, dearest,” he said in a low voice to the woman beside him, “have you the time?” His eyes were focused intently on the second hand of the clock, traveling along with it as it made its way to the 12 and then back around. It was obvious that this question was rhetorical. “I do believe that what we await is rather late…”

    He glanced back down at his paper, and then he folded it fluidly and laid it down on the table. His eyes went to the woman beside him once more. “Kate, dearest, won’t you have a seat?” he requested, eyes moving to the seat beside himself at the table. “It is getting so dreadfully late, and we have not much time left. The night grows old, and soon, the sun rises.” His eyes studied her face, and the corners of his mouth flicked up. “Even if I had lifetimes to lose, I would rather not spend them waiting, and I suppose that you would not, either. However…” He brushed his hand along her arm, expression unchanging. “Misery loves company, and so does impatience.”

    He looked back up at the clock. “How many times has that clock rotated in its lifetime, do you think? And how many more does it have before it stops?”


    code by ditto (head empty go bonk)​
    ​
    ​
    The man in the white suit let out a long breath through his nose as his eyes scanned the newspaper, which would not have seemed odd but for the fact that newspapers had ceased their running some three-odd months ago, and also the fact that, even three-odd months ago, only two newspapers ran for the whole city, and these newspapers were fully digitalized. Even now, those sites were defunct, so the news could not be accessed on the rare occurrence that one could find themselves a functioning laptop with functioning wireless internet.

    “How queer,” remarked the man beneath his breath, turning the paper with his hand in so robotic a way that it caused the receptionist’s eyes to shift over to him once again. “How dreadfully queer,” he muttered, and the receptionist looked away.

    The date at the top of the newspaper was June 03. This much was correct. The year, however, was 2065.

    That was nearly four decades ago, and yet this man— this odd man in the white suit— seemed so deeply enthralled with the writing that his eyes stayed glued to the outdated paper, even as he brought the intricately-painted porcelain cup to his lips to sip tea from it. Not only this, but his cold eyes often repeated the same motions over and over again, as if he were stuck on a couple of the lines.

    Finally, he looked up from the paper and to the clock with a gentle sigh. “Kate, dearest,” he said in a low voice to the woman beside him, “have you the time?” His eyes were focused intently on the second hand of the clock, traveling along with it as it made its way to the 12 and then back around. It was obvious that this question was rhetorical. “I do believe that what we await is rather late…”

    He glanced back down at his paper, and then he folded it fluidly and laid it down on the table. His eyes went to the woman beside him once more. “Kate, dearest, won’t you have a seat?” he requested, eyes moving to the seat beside himself at the table. “It is getting so dreadfully late, and we have not much time left. The night grows old, and soon, the sun rises.” His eyes studied her face, and the corners of his mouth flicked up. “Even if I had lifetimes to lose, I would rather not spend them waiting, and I suppose that you would not, either. However…” He brushed his hand along her arm, expression unchanging. “Misery loves company, and so does impatience.”

    He looked back up at the clock. “How many times has that clock rotated in its lifetime, do you think? And how many more does it have before it stops?”
     
    Mason
    “Ace”
    ​
    Groggy as ever masons eyes fluttered open as he heard the familiar sound of his front door opening. Who? He heard the door slam and he should have been scared. But the sleepiness just made him feel annoyed at someone disturbing his peaceful sleep. He took a breath and rolled onto his back. He went through the list of names of people he had given a spare key to. I should really stop doing that. Reminder: to take a few of those spare keys. He heard the footsteps stop infront of his door then he heard a voice. “Mason are you awake?” A sigh of relief came out of Mason. “Kel....” He got up and put on his glasses. That had become a habit. He wrapped his blanket around himself. He walked up to the door and opened it. Too tired to respond so he opened his blanket and pulled Kel in. He closed the blanket effectively hugging Kel inside of a giant blanket. Mason fell back asleep while trying to make it back to his bed.
     






    olwen whittacker

    ~ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ~

    location: cooke & tailor
    ~ ⋆ mood: curious ⋆ ~
    interactions: Walker ( ditto ditto )

    ~ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ~​

    After Olwen managed to pull herself out of the shower – one second away from complete prune-sformation – life stayed startlingly the same. Day in, day out. Palmetti’s in the evening, the diner until dawn. Part of her had been half-expecting to see the world around her plunged into total chaos and darkness because, well, that’s what it had felt like to her. However, the next night she walked into the pub to find Kel’s unchanged smile greeting her and was taken aback by just how... normal it all felt. Life went on, despite the terror of her carnal awakening taking over again. It took a while to be able to sleep again. Every time she closed her eyes, she worried she would see blood on her hands when opening them again. Her biggest fear became that blood being from someone she cared for.

    Olwen drifted, emotionally distantly for a while. She ate more often – maybe twice a week rather than once every other - and stocked her shelves with supplement vitamins. The world changed slowly outside, but something always felt a little bit off. A decrease in violent attacks didn’t necessarily mean a decrease in the presence of her immortal kin, it just meant they were getting better at hiding the evidence. It was worrying, and terrifying. Justices, she though... how ironic.

    Presently, however, the platinum disaster had bigger worries on her mind. She leaned idly against a windowsill in a diner close to the center of town, watching the sun rise in the distance. Her skin itched even at just the threat of their rays reaching her. A few hours ago, her coworker called in sick and, understaffed as usual, her manager gave her the ultimatum of either fill in or quit. Neither was a particularly pleasing option, but in the long run she still had to make money. Palmetti’s was nice and all – well, not really – but it didn’t really break the bank. Not in a way that was sustainable to a girl always ready to go on the run, that is.

    She groaned and stepped back from the window, fixing a couple of loose locks in her low-bun before stepping out of the kitchen for a bit. “Table two could use some service.” A hostess glanced her way, busy scribbling on paper. Right, she bet they could. Rolling her eyes, Olwen fixed her apron and picked up a pad and pen, waltzing over to where a couple new arrivals had just sat down. “Good morning, welcome to...” She lifted her eyes from the paper and felt her words dissolve when she realized at least one of them was a familiar face. Well, of course they were both familiar – everyone knew the mayor at this point, at least in name – but one of them was very familiar. She swallowed dryly and cleared her throat, starting again. “Welcome to Cooke and Tailor. Can I start you off with a cup of coffee or tea?”

    Trying desperately not to linger, their orders were taken and pinned in the kitchen window right away. She dawdled a bit while getting their coffees, and kept an eye on them afterwards, partly out of sheer curiosity and partly out of.... nevermind. What was Walker doing talking with the mayor? Last time she saw him he was cracking lame pick-up lines and heading to an abandoned church. Something didn’t quite add up, although she supposed she didn’t actually know that much about him. Leaning against the hostess bar, Olwen tucked her chin in her palm and tipped her head. Don’t stare. She sipped at her own cup of coffee and then winced as though it burnt her. Looking down, however, she found the real culprit. A stray, dancing streak of sunshine from someone’s watch slid over her bare ankles and, while it didn’t really char her, it sure hurt like hell.

    ~ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ~​


    After Olwen managed to pull herself out of the shower – one second away from complete prune-sformation – life stayed startlingly the same. Day in, day out. Palmetti’s in the evening, the diner until dawn. Part of her had been half-expecting to see the world around her plunged into total chaos and darkness because, well, that’s what it had felt like to her. However, the next night she walked into the pub to find Kel’s unchanged smile greeting her and was taken aback by just how... normal it all felt. Life went on, despite the terror of her carnal awakening taking over again. It took a while to be able to sleep again. Every time she closed her eyes, she worried she would see blood on her hands when opening them again. Her biggest fear became that blood being from someone she cared for.

    Olwen drifted, emotionally distantly for a while. She ate more often – maybe twice a week rather than once every other - and stocked her shelves with supplement vitamins. The world changed slowly outside, but something always felt a little bit off. A decrease in violent attacks didn’t necessarily mean a decrease in the presence of her immortal kin, it just meant they were getting better at hiding the evidence. It was worrying, and terrifying. Justices, she though... how ironic.

    Presently, however, the platinum disaster had bigger worries on her mind. She leaned idly against a windowsill in a diner close to the center of town, watching the sun rise in the distance. Her skin itched even at just the threat of their rays reaching her. A few hours ago, her coworker called in sick and, understaffed as usual, her manager gave her the ultimatum of either fill in or quit. Neither was a particularly pleasing option, but in the long run she still had to make money. Palmetti’s was nice and all – well, not really – but it didn’t really break the bank. Not in a way that was sustainable to a girl always ready to go on the run, that is.

    She groaned and stepped back from the window, fixing a couple of loose locks in her low-bun before stepping out of the kitchen for a bit. “Table two could use some service.” A hostess glanced her way, busy scribbling on paper. Right, she bet they could. Rolling her eyes, Olwen fixed her apron and picked up a pad and pen, waltzing over to where a couple new arrivals had just sat down. “Good morning, welcome to...” She lifted her eyes from the paper and felt her words dissolve when she realized at least one of them was a familiar face. Well, of course they were both familiar – everyone knew the mayor at this point, at least in name – but one of them was very familiar. She swallowed dryly and cleared her throat, starting again. “Welcome to Cooke and Tailor. Can I start you off with a cup of coffee or tea?”

    Trying desperately not to linger, their orders were taken and pinned in the kitchen window right away. She dawdled a bit while getting their coffees, and kept an eye on them afterwards, partly out of sheer curiosity and partly out of.... nevermind. What was Walker doing talking with the mayor? Last time she saw him he was cracking lame pick-up lines and heading to an abandoned church. Something didn’t quite add up, although she supposed she didn’t actually know that much about him. Leaning against the hostess bar, Olwen tucked her chin in her palm and tipped her head. Don’t stare. She sipped at her own cup of coffee and then winced as though it burnt her. Looking down, however, she found the real culprit. A stray, dancing streak of sunshine from someone’s watch slid over her bare ankles and, while it didn’t really char her, it sure hurt like hell.
     
    devoted​









    WALKER HERNÁNDEZ    ​

    Walker Hernádez had awoken this morning to the same blaring of the same alarm clock at the same time as always. He had brushed his teeth with the same paste, combed his hair the same way with the same, blue comb, and pulled on the same, black shoes. He had exited his apartment the same way as he always did, with his satchel full of tools slung across his body and resting on the same hip as always. Routine, routine, routine— it was something that Hernádez had to have. This much was non-negotiable. Life had to happen the same way, or, if not happen the same way, at least start the same way.

    These past few weeks had made such a thing difficult, however. The arson investigations that had opened up surrounding the case of City Hall burning down, of course, were one part of it. The general populous did not accept the excuses that the police department had given of this just being “a fire started by a fax machine gone awry” or “a candle left burning in the mayoral office”. They were not stupid, and they could not be so easily fooled.

    Hernádez had been very frustrated with the department for their terribly-made excuses. It made no sense why they would have come up with such flimsy ways of excusing this crime, nor did it make any sense why they refused to bring the Devoted into it. Of course, that much probably had to do with the fact that there was a new mayor— one who Hernádez was not particularly a fan of.

    Now, it wasn’t that he did not like the man. It really took a lot for Hernádez to dislike someone, really. Walker simply had suspicions about him. Certainly, the man had shown no eagerness to gain the seat of the mayor, but that meant nothing. If there was one thing that Walker knew, it was not to trust appearances. Besides, this new mayor had been awfully silent since he had taken office. He spoke in short, direct sentences to Walker, and he did not seem to appreciate questions asked to him. The general feeling that Hernádez got was “leave me alone; I have better things to do”— which, Walker was sure, he did. In general, the Devoted had exterminated more vampires than ever with the leads that the mayor had given them, and, in general, things had been going swimmingly. Even so, there was just…something that Walker didn’t trust about this man.

    Speaking of the mayor, Walker had a very important meeting with him this morning— per Walker’s request, not the mayor’s. He had been given such odd instructions the previous day— such specific ones— that his suspicions had been raised. The words vampire hideout— how in the hell did this man know about a vampire hideout, and for how long, and how did he know the exact location and general descriptions of all of the vampires in that place? There was just something…strange.

    Walker turned into the parking lot of Cooke and Taylor, a quaint restaurant in the outer inner city. It was not anything particularly elaborate, and it was not exactly a place that Walker would usually find himself in, but the mayor had requested this restaurant, for some reason. It wasn’t Walker’s job to complain about the location; he just wanted to have this meeting to figure out what exactly was going on.

    He entered the restaurant, spoke to the hostess (“table for two please”), and was ushered to a seat near the center of the rather empty diner. It was unsurprising that this place was not crowded— after all, they were in what some people had dubbed “Armageddon”— and this emptiness would probably prove useful. After all, matters between such a top secret organization as the Devoted and the mayor were best kept hush-hush…

    Come to think of it, wasn’t it a bit odd that the mayor had been willing to discuss these things in such a public place? This…this whole thing read suspicious.

    Walker hadn’t much time to consider this before the mayor seated himself across from him, with no greeting whatsoever.

    “Good morning, sir,” Walker greeted, though not as chipperly as he may have otherwise.

    “Good morning, Walker.” The mayor spoke with his eyes fixated on the napkin.

    Walker raised an eyebrow, but quickly pulled it back down. “How are you?”

    “Well, fine…” His voice seemed dazed— though it always did. “How are you?”

    “I am doing well,” Walker said. “I—“

    “You’ve come here to discuss yesterday’s matters with me,” the mayor said, and he brought his eyes up to meet Walker’s.

    Walker felt his breath hitch in his throat. His heart thudded hard in his chest.

    There was something different about those eyes.

    “I see no point in beating around the bush,” said the man, looking away.

    Walker’s eyes went to an approaching woman. “I believe that that’s our waitress,” he said to the mayor, already wanting this meeting to be done with. “I think that I’m going to get myself some coffee…are you planning on getting anything?”

    The mayor said nothing, and seconds later, the waitress appeared at the side of the table. There was something familiar about the woman, and it took a few moment for Walker to realize that it was Olwen, the bartender from that rundown pub.

    “Oh, yes, I’d like to have a cup of coffee. Black, please,” he said, giving her a small smile.

    “Nothing for me, thank you,” said the mayor.

    Walker’s eyes shifted to him as the woman walked away. “Sir…”

    “Yes?” The mayor’s eyes went back to the napkin.

    “I—“

    “We were discussing yesterday’s matters.”

    The mayor was adamant about getting right to the point. Walker understood that this man was busy, but this was odd. “Sir, are you in a rush?”


    “Why do you ask?” the mayor asked without answering.

    “You seem like you are is all,” Walker said, studying the man’s face.

    The mayor’s face was entirely still aside from his lips. “No, no. I simply do no understand why we must beat around the bush.”


    “Yes, you’ve said that before.” He touched at the napkin-ed set of silverware. “Sir, I just wanted to ask— what is your source of intel?”

    “Source of intel?”

    “Yes, sir…” Walker looked about himself, and then lowered his voice. “Where did you hear about the vampire hideout?”

    At the word vampire, the mayor’s eyes flicked back up to Walker for a moment, and then went back to the napkin. “I have my sources.”

    “And these sources are…? I do not mean to pry, but—“

    “These sources are classified,” the mayor said. “They helped the previous mayor.”

    “They helped the previous mayor?” Walker echoed. “Who is it?”

    “I said that that much is classified.”

    “I think, sir, that it is awfully suspicious that a human could know about a vampire hideout,” Walker said.

    “Have faith.”

    “Sir?”

    “This person gives us good leads. I’m not going to question them. That is all.”

    “Good leads for what, sir?”

    “We have exterminated more vampires in the past three weeks than the previous mayor’s establishment ever did.”

    “The Devoted has always been a hard-working agency, sir.”

    “There is no refuting that.”

    “Then what is your point, sir?”

    “I am just saying…” The mayor looked up at Walker. “…that if you have a problem with the way that the Devoted is running now, perhaps you would do better to find a job elsewhere.”

    Walker blinked, unable to speak as the mayor’s eyes bore into his. What? Wasn’t this jumping the gun a little bit?

    “S-Sir,” Walker stammered, “I—“

    The mayor looked away. “It is fine. I understand your concern. It’s much appreciated.” He paused. “Today, actually, I have new leads.”

    “New…leads, sir?”

    “Yes. Our source has tipped us about another hideout.”

    “Another hideout…” Walker could do nothing but echo now.


    “I will give you the details later, but this one is, apparently, a swirling hellhole.”

    Walker sighed softly. “Yes, sir…”


    It looked like he wasn’t going to get any answers.
    ​
    ​
    code by ditto (head empty go bonk)​
    ​
    ​
    ​

    Walker Hernádez had awoken this morning to the same blaring of the same alarm clock at the same time as always. He had brushed his teeth with the same paste, combed his hair the same way with the same, blue comb, and pulled on the same, black shoes. He had exited his apartment the same way as he always did, with his satchel full of tools slung across his body and resting on the same hip as always. Routine, routine, routine— it was something that Hernádez had to have. This much was non-negotiable. Life had to happen the same way, or, if not happen the same way, at least start the same way.

    These past few weeks had made such a thing difficult, however. The arson investigations that had opened up surrounding the case of City Hall burning down, of course, were one part of it. The general populous did not accept the excuses that the police department had given of this just being “a fire started by a fax machine gone awry” or “a candle left burning in the mayoral office”. They were not stupid, and they could not be so easily fooled.

    Hernádez had been very frustrated with the department for their terribly-made excuses. It made no sense why they would have come up with such flimsy ways of excusing this crime, nor did it make any sense why they refused to bring the Devoted into it. Of course, that much probably had to do with the fact that there was a new mayor— one who Hernádez was not particularly a fan of.

    Now, it wasn’t that he did not like the man. It really took a lot for Hernádez to dislike someone, really. Walker simply had suspicions about him. Certainly, the man had shown no eagerness to gain the seat of the mayor, but that meant nothing. If there was one thing that Walker knew, it was not to trust appearances. Besides, this new mayor had been awfully silent since he had taken office. He spoke in short, direct sentences to Walker, and he did not seem to appreciate questions asked to him. The general feeling that Hernádez got was “leave me alone; I have better things to do”— which, Walker was sure, he did. In general, the Devoted had exterminated more vampires than ever with the leads that the mayor had given them, and, in general, things had been going swimmingly. Even so, there was just…something that Walker didn’t trust about this man.

    Speaking of the mayor, Walker had a very important meeting with him this morning— per Walker’s request, not the mayor’s. He had been given such odd instructions the previous day— such specific ones— that his suspicions had been raised. The words vampire hideout— how in the hell did this man know about a vampire hideout, and for how long, and how did he know the exact location and general descriptions of all of the vampires in that place? There was just something…strange.

    Walker turned into the parking lot of Cooke and Taylor, a quaint restaurant in the outer inner city. It was not anything particularly elaborate, and it was not exactly a place that Walker would usually find himself in, but the mayor had requested this restaurant, for some reason. It wasn’t Walker’s job to complain about the location; he just wanted to have this meeting to figure out what exactly was going on.

    He entered the restaurant, spoke to the hostess (“table for two please”), and was ushered to a seat near the center of the rather empty diner. It was unsurprising that this place was not crowded— after all, they were in what some people had dubbed “Armageddon”— and this emptiness would probably prove useful. After all, matters between such a top secret organization as the Devoted and the mayor were best kept hush-hush…

    Come to think of it, wasn’t it a bit odd that the mayor had been willing to discuss these things in such a public place? This…this whole thing read suspicious.

    Walker hadn’t much time to consider this before the mayor seated himself across from him, with no greeting whatsoever.

    “Good morning, sir,” Walker greeted, though not as chipperly as he may have otherwise.

    “Good morning, Walker.” The mayor spoke with his eyes fixated on the napkin.

    Walker raised an eyebrow, but quickly pulled it back down. “How are you?”

    “Well, fine…” His voice seemed dazed— though it always did. “How are you?”

    “I am doing well,” Walker said. “I—“

    “You’ve come here to discuss yesterday’s matters with me,” the mayor said, and he brought his eyes up to meet Walker’s.

    Walker felt his breath hitch in his throat. His heart thudded hard in his chest.

    There was something different about those eyes.

    “I see no point in beating around the bush,” said the man, looking away.

    Walker’s eyes went to an approaching woman. “I believe that that’s our waitress,” he said to the mayor, already wanting this meeting to be done with. “I think that I’m going to get myself some coffee…are you planning on getting anything?”

    The mayor said nothing, and seconds later, the waitress appeared at the side of the table. There was something familiar about the woman, and it took a few moment for Walker to realize that it was Olwen, the bartender from that rundown pub.

    “Oh, yes, I’d like to have a cup of coffee. Black, please,” he said, giving her a small smile.

    “Nothing for me, thank you,” said the mayor.

    Walker’s eyes shifted to him as the woman walked away. “Sir…”

    “Yes?” The mayor’s eyes went back to the napkin.

    “I—“

    “We were discussing yesterday’s matters.”

    The mayor was adamant about getting right to the point. Walker understood that this man was busy, but this was odd. “Sir, are you in a rush?”


    “Why do you ask?” the mayor asked without answering.

    “You seem like you are is all,” Walker said, studying the man’s face.

    The mayor’s face was entirely still aside from his lips. “No, no. I simply do no understand why we must beat around the bush.”


    “Yes, you’ve said that before.” He touched at the napkin-ed set of silverware. “Sir, I just wanted to ask— what is your source of intel?”

    “Source of intel?”

    “Yes, sir…” Walker looked about himself, and then lowered his voice. “Where did you hear about the vampire hideout?”

    At the word vampire, the mayor’s eyes flicked back up to Walker for a moment, and then went back to the napkin. “I have my sources.”

    “And these sources are…? I do not mean to pry, but—“

    “These sources are classified,” the mayor said. “They helped the previous mayor.”

    “They helped the previous mayor?” Walker echoed. “Who is it?”

    “I said that that much is classified.”

    “I think, sir, that it is awfully suspicious that a human could know about a vampire hideout,” Walker said.

    “Have faith.”

    “Sir?”

    “This person gives us good leads. I’m not going to question them. That is all.”

    “Good leads for what, sir?”

    “We have exterminated more vampires in the past three weeks than the previous mayor’s establishment ever did.”

    “The Devoted has always been a hard-working agency, sir.”

    “There is no refuting that.”

    “Then what is your point, sir?”

    “I am just saying…” The mayor looked up at Walker. “…that if you have a problem with the way that the Devoted is running now, perhaps you would do better to find a job elsewhere.”

    Walker blinked, unable to speak as the mayor’s eyes bore into his. What? Wasn’t this jumping the gun a little bit?

    “S-Sir,” Walker stammered, “I—“

    The mayor looked away. “It is fine. I understand your concern. It’s much appreciated.” He paused. “Today, actually, I have new leads.”

    “New…leads, sir?”

    “Yes. Our source has tipped us about another hideout.”

    “Another hideout…” Walker could do nothing but echo now.


    “I will give you the details later, but this one is, apparently, a swirling hellhole.”

    Walker sighed softly. “Yes, sir…”


    It looked like he wasn’t going to get any answers.[/center][/center]
    ​
     
    Last edited:
    Had the distraught young woman spoke an unfamiliar name it was quite likely she would have received the bare minimum of aid. An escort to the nearest inn and enough cash for a night or two. Bare minimum for a non-famished Boruth’s standards. However, Catherine Davore was a name he knew well. She was a friend. Not an incredibly close one as he had few of those luxuries but a friend nevertheless. It was shortly before he arrived to this city that he heard what became of her, the walls formed by a prolonged life splattered with strife shielded him from deeper sorrow of that news.

    Yet, in that moment of hearing her name spoken he was taken aback. The ruthlessly logical section of his mind immediately screamed that this was too perfect a coincidence. He straightened and looked beyond the young woman to the darkness that she expected her boogeyman to form out of. No, the logic was right. Everything was too perfect, and yet when he looked back to the young woman all he saw was a frightened, confused and alone soul asking for help.

    He turned and it would have appeared as if he was intending to leave her behind until over his shoulder came his frostless voice, “Come child, this weather is not at all agreeable to me much less for thee. Had I a coat it would be offered but alas I have none. Fortunately we have little to go.”

    ____________________________________________________________________​

    Situated along the craggy cliffs of a scantly populated, forested lake not far from the city lies the home of the ancient vampire Boruth. It is a fine property, one bordered where available by a chalky white stone and dark wrought iron high wall. Atop periodical pillars small, dark lanterns cast a warm glow beneath the canopy of forest greenery. Such greenery offers privacy as it does natural beauty, and thanks to them only from certain areas could one spot all five structures on the property.

    The most notable of these was of course the main home, a sprawling building that greedily takes advantage of the landscape with high arched ceilings, patios and expansive windows overlooking the water. Nearest to the manor was an oversized garage, then there were a pair of cozy cottages amongst the trees. Each building were crafted with a similar exterior of white and dark grey with solar panels taking advantage of the plentiful sun. Finally there was the gazebo which sits over the predominately tranquil water. To get there one must follow a path of red brick as it meanders through a colorful garden and along water features until reaching a flight of stairs leading down toward the lake.

    The approximate five hectares of land had been in Boruth’s possession for some time, yet it was only until one unfortunate soul came along that it ever had a guest. Primarily this was due to there having never been anything but nature until the current decade, nevertheless the old vampire was quite eager to finally be host. So the moment Celeste passed through the iron gate adorned with a pair of crossed golden torches she was promised the utmost of hospitality. That being said, Boruth’s nocturnal nature could easily cause issues, so it was of great help that an older couple from the Urals of Kazakhstan worked as caretakers of the property. There were others who came and went in mostly secret, however with their dark, vacant gaze and manner of speaking little as possible they could be a tad unnerving. Those sort stayed in the comfortably distant cottage and seldom made their presence known while the much more approachable caretakers did quite the opposite.

    Other than Boruth’s own bedroom and study the rest of the manor was free reign for Celeste. Of her own room she had pick of those in the guest wing which had a more private entrance via the gardens should she choose a more scenic way than the corridor from the great room, the choices of rooms being the more intimate kind along said garden or those facing the lake with large windows to look out over lake. The master suit was the only chamber on a second story and with its stone deck overlooking the lake, vaulted ceiling and fireplace it was naturally the best of the lot.

    Entertainment wise there was enough to pass the time. To start, the outdoors had its own offers although Boruth was adamant for Celeste to never stray beyond the walls without a guide. It was perhaps the one rule equal to that of his request for privacy regarding the study. Inside the walls there were ample spots for relaxation amidst the gardens, and if she wanted a book to enjoy the study in the guest wing carried a small library. The final source on the main floor comes from the quaint billiards room styled after an English pub. Follow the stairs down to the healthy living section with a makeshift gym, a steam room and the cigar/wine room.


    ____________________________________________________________________​


    Behind the thick oak door of Boruth’s study one could hear the sound of somebody shifting through boxes. An almost embarrassed haste had brought the old vampire to this room hours before. With certain matters going on the fact that he could have items Celeste would want completely slipped his mind. Such a misstep was unforgivable and why he would not quit until he was certain. All at once he found something, and a sudden ‘Aha!’ sounded out. Quickly he exited the room and on the desk he left behind a letter, one he had received two weeks prior but had yet to put away sat open. It was, as he expected, quite the read if not a little tiring.


    My dearest Friend,

    As I write you I must confess that for a short period I carried in my heart an ill will of overwhelming proportion directed at you. My suffering was immeasurable and even the passage of several uncharacteristically peaceful hours have yet to dull the ache of your betrayal. To be forced to endure an absolute bore of an American(American!) meeting alone whilst you frolicked through the night is truly a detestable act from one who dared call myself a friend in previous centuries. However, despite your undeniable treachery I believe much of this frustration is simply born out of my desire for freedom from responsibilities that often you callously flaunt. But the sun is soon to rise and I am rather weary so such a topic will be reserved for future correspondence.

    As previously writ the assemblage of our American counterparts was a rush of excitement equal to being audience of an embalmment. Perhaps I am being too harsh as there indeed were a pair of matters of enough interest to share. Sadly neither were too outrageous as one would expect from a nation of castoffs and philistines with only a disappointing sprinkle of decent folk but oh well.

    The first subject I present is the disappearance of one Cornelius Smith who had been traversing South America when the mystery occurred two months come the morrow. Having never met the man myself I can only judge Smith’s character from what trusted others say, and what they paint is a rather poor picture. Such details I will forego since that was never my purpose for introducing this subject. Smith is now the second vanishing of notable individuals that has been brought to my attention, the first of course being Sir Desmond Carver near four months prior to this incident. Of course it is entirely possible both met their ends by mortal hands and these are more likely than not isolated occurrences when one considers how neither man share obvious connections nor were they even plucked from this Earth on the same continent, however I can’t shake the feeling there is perhaps something more at work. These are troubling times my friend, I would very much sleep easier should you cease your wandering ways and return to our own lands. Should things worsen I most definitely will personally bring you back and lock you beneath our hallowed archive.

    Ah I have rambled on, forgive me for I know enough that you share my distress so I will carry on to a less disquieting matter. You with your odd interest of the human nature may even find amusement in what I write. Before the forum’s commencement there was an intriguing little conversation that captured much attention. I myself am never one to snoop much less pay any mind to idle gossip as you well know so there will unfortunately be blanks for you yourself to fill in. Consider this part of your punishment for your betrayal and know I have more devious ideas circulating through my mind. Keep that in mind while you scribe then deliver a return letter. Now then, it was a trio whom garnered notice and as you well know I am quite poor at recalling names less the bearer is close to heart, however two of the participants carried titles of recognition. The first being that curious boy overtly fond of white who has made ripples in recent time. I had some desire to meet the source of queer rumors yet seeing him in person I have since reconsidered. The boy is much too serious for my taste and has a disposition not at all palatable. Leave such tiring conversation to ones more patient than I. With him was the Dead Witch mercenary who made some rounds as those types without allegiance do from time to time. I believe Lord Vallard had gave some thought on inquiring her service, however if anything materialized I have not the faintest idea. Anyways, I had just begun to “chitchat” (unhappily so) with an unrefined churl whilst the wound of your deceit grew evermore painful when the surly pair mentioned were joined by a third party. Valiantly this poor little girl made efforts at conversing with those sourpusses whilst I silently hoped she would save herself the headache and say what was truly on her (and everybody’s I am most certain) mind.

    And that’s all she (being me) wrote. Oh. Were you expecting more? Unfortunately my dear the night was just so horrible that I lack even the desire to tease. With that I will bring this short letter to a close. I shall remind you once more that I expect to hear from you at once and to be deeply regaled by your recent adventures. Sleep well.

    Forever and always your friend,
    Aeliana    ​
    ​



    While prowling the house in search of Celeste, being mindful of the growing rays of light, he began to once again question what the next step should be. He had told of his acquaintance with her deceased mother and now that he was entirely certain of her honesty, had no qualms of helping out. But how should he best do that? It was one thing to give her a roof, yet something else entirely to heal her wound let alone prepare her for the world. Giving insight into her half nature and the gifts that could come with it was one step. Then after that? He knew well the world was changing, maybe not for the best, and despite her gifts Celeste would face the same struggles as others. It was a rising issue amongst many others. It didn't help that tonight was when a certain shipment was due to arrive. One that his young guest was better off not knowing about.

    Eventually he made it to Celeste’s room and following a triple rap asked, “Pardon the intrusion dear girl but may I enter?”


    Interaction: mariee mariee ​
     
    Celeste
    mood: content


    location: in her room at Boruth's residence


    outfit: link


    interactions: screaming armadillo screaming armadillo

    The last couple of weeks had been quite interesting for Celeste. Since Boruth had rescued her from the cold streets of the main city, she had been living with him, the house at the lake being the perfect safe space for the girl to heal. After she narrowly escaped the clutches of her old landlord and all the other events of that night, she had been shaken up a bit, to say the least. At first, she was hesitant to trust the man and didn’t know if it was a good idea to come with him, but having had no other choice than to sleep on the streets, she had decided that it was her best option to have faith in her rescuer. Her faith was proven to be just, as he had given her a warm place to stay, a nice bedroom and all the time in the world to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

    The girl had no idea how she could ever repay the man, but she had promised herself that one day she would. He had been an excellent host, and the two of them had slowly begun building up a strange but strong friendship. Besides that, she had finally found someone who could give her some answers to all the questions that had been plaguing her mind since her late mother’s revelation that she had been a vampire. They hadn’t discussed it much, since Celeste didn’t feel like she was ready to hear it all, but she knew Boruth could provide explanations if she needed them. He had also explained to her that vampires, or half-vampires, like herself, could possess certain abilities and the two of them had slowly been testing the waters to see if she, too, had them. Their findings so far had been mild, but somewhat successful.

    Currently, Celeste was sitting in a comfortable chair, her legs swung over one of the armrests and a book in her lap. The pages had somewhat yellowed but it was still in an exceptional state and the girl could appreciate the way Boruth apparently treated his books with utmost care. Some of the books she had read had been centuries old and had given her the ability to read stories no one her age had ever even heard of, which she greatly enjoyed. Because of this, over the time she had stayed here, her computer had been put to the side more and more, books taking its place once again.

    She played with the ring around her finger absent-mindedly while reading, which bore, unknown to her, the symbol of The Order. In the corner of the room, a record player was softly playing a piano melody, the needle slowly traveling its way through the LP’s grooves. Whenever the record would finish playing, she would slightly swish her finger and the needle would bop back to the beginning as if lifted by an invisible force.
    At the sudden knocking at her door, her head had bobbed up, and she ripped herself away from the story with difficulty. She closed the book carefully and put it on the table next to her, getting up from her relaxed position and stretching a little. Her voice was calm and soft as she spoke up. “Come in.”

    code by valen t.
     









    Katerina





    Location: run down hotel

    Outfit: another black dress, this one with gold shoulders and puffed sleeves

    Interactions: Jack | ditto ditto





    In the run down hotel in an area of town that was not known for economic repute, Katerina could tell that Jack was becoming impatient. As it was, the incessant ticking of the clock located on one wall in the room was beginning to grate on her ears and nerves. He was dressed in his signature white suit, as immaculate as ever. No one seemed to be particularly bothered by the newspaper which had the wrong year on it, nor did the receptionist mind the peculiarity of his movements.

    "Kate, dearest." Her attention was drawn back to him like a moth to flame, whether she'd be warmed by its heat or burned by the same was not a question in her mind. "Have you the time? I do believe that what we await is rather late."

    "You don't say,"     she returned, her face unmoving as though it were a porcelain mask. Jack laid down the outdated paper. "It better not be intentional." A cold smile--could it even be called that?--from her stone cold heart that spoke volumes of danger and the threat thereof.

    "Kate, dearest, won't you have a seat?" She reluctantly walked around and perched on the seat next to him, never quite at rest, a tension ever in her limbs like a predator ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. He continued his discourse, his eyes roving to her face and a smile ghosted his lips. When his hand traced along her arm, she shivered and smiled with something akin to warmth.

    "Perhaps I could distract you from both," she suggested with a smile on her face that spoke of a different sort of danger. Katerina caught his hand in hers with a challenge in her eyes and a strange sort of hunger.

    “How many times has that clock rotated in its lifetime, do you think? And how many more does it have before it stops?”

    "It matters not. All we have is the eternal present. Why burden yourself with thoughts of the past which is irreversible and the future which has not yet come to pass?"     A pause. "Now is all we have to choose, to act, like so." In one moment she was in her chair, poised, statuesque, and in the next she was straddling his lap with her fangs poised on his neck. "Everything can change in a moment," she breathed into his ear.



    code by Stardust Galaxy​
     
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