Title: New [r o m a n t i c s]
Description: Troy Bradley White.
Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 8, 2007 02:12 PM (GMT)
The Promenade was quiet, eerie, almost. The ghost of children playing and laughter echoed throughout the alleyway V was now stalking. In the day, the open ended alley would have been flooded with light, which in turn would illuminate the huge blue and white canvas's sheltering various doorways from view and the rays of the sun. In the night, there was no place more foreboding. The night was humid, sticky, and had V worn anything other than the black corset, laced with red ribbons that gripped her curves anyway, it would have stuck to her like a second skin. Most of her clothes were tight-fitting, so she never had the trouble of attempting to disentangle pieces of material from places they shouldn't be. One of the upsides of dressing like a whore, she supposed; you didn't have to discipline your clothes. Shadows danced up the rough stone walls, shadows that V should really have been more careful. No-one knew what lurked here, in any part of Nice really, or France for that matter. It was hard keeping track of what and who were hiding where, and so she normally kept a small pocket-map for no other reason than to consult it when she was in a particularly dangerous zone. If the vampires or werewolves that threatened her were well known, or people she couldn't fend off, they would be marked off.
As she proceeded down the alleyway, to one of her favourite bars, dominated by vampires, a feed was on her mind. She'd managed to hold back more than a little in the last couple of weeks, mainly because her desire had shrunk with the feeding ban, but now it was back and more fierce than it had been in ears. It pricked at her skin, coursing over flesh and mind like a predator; a hungry one at that. She decided she'd go for a stiff drink, and possibly scope out a play mate from the bar, a feed and a sex buddy...great. Always good, the perfect night out actually. A feed and a fuck. She was vulgar, she knew this, but it didn't matter. Usually, she ended up fighting with a nice young vampire for dominance on a feed. The fight usually ended up in two things; sex or a death. Possibly both. Lull them into a false sense of security, and then strike when the iron was hot.
When she walked into the bar, the stifling smokiness hit her as subtly as a slap in the face and she coughed loudly, not hesitating to take the small coat she was wearing over the corset off. It was far too hot to keep anything on in here. Without thinking or asking for permission, she made her way into the back room, which was more like a scullery, comprising of a wooden table, and a few pots and pans. She leaned against the door frame, studying the pub and silently picking out her victim, unaware so far of the other presence in the scullery with her.
Troy Bradley White - August 8, 2007 06:27 PM (GMT)
The night was hot; anybody with flesh would be able to figure that out with the sporadic drops of salt that was sweat trickling down various parts of the body. Condensation formed on cool drinks that could be pushed to the tissue for a quick little cool down. When dead of night struck, a cold breeze would come and leave like it was never there at all. It was likely that the night would be as equally as hot. Hope couldn’t stop the forecast for predicting high humidity in the next couple of days. So not only would the temperature be a disaster before hand, Mother Nature had to go cake it up with even more heat that would only make matters worse. Sweat would have sweat, the aquatic creatures would feel like they were being boiled for supper, and things would ultimately just suck, unless of course one had a constant blowing breeze, air conditioner, a pool, the window down on the car, or even a bucket of ice that could lower the bloody temperature. Sweat was only attractive on certain people, construction workers and hot girls, and even then only one of them were favored. The latter – most definitely it was the latter.
The heat made him crazy. Apparently, for Troy White, heat equaled a horrible craving for blood. Of course it was never human blood that he longed to feed upon. There was no fascination for taking a human life and he doubted that he ever would. He was new to this whole vampire thing for only a few years, but thirsting upon some innocent was nothing for him. The guy was tough, but cold-blooded murder was just not one of the strengths that he possessed. Maybe it was just because he was so fresh that his parents were still alive and possibly every time a feeding occurred, their faces would be replaced with the victim. Mother, brother, sister, father; these were the people that he never wanted harm to come to and he was dangerous enough. Never would he be able to let it down to know that harm ever wound its dangerous claws around their feeble, good-hearted souls. It would be partially his fault and nothing in the world would make him want to turn against his parents.
Even though the night was so hot, denim pants were the acquired statement. What it was stating was ‘this guy’s damn hot!’ It could go either way really – physically or temperature wise. The white wifebeater made up for it up top, showing off all the clear-cut muscles that moved with power, bulging here and there. Some sort of leather jacket would have usually accompanied this, but it was too damn hot for that. Besides, riding his motorcycle gave more room for a breeze to flick against his skin, which was where he was at that very moment. Aviator sunglasses sat at the bridge of his nose, even though it was well dark enough outside not to need them at all, but it was all part of the charm, the image. It said ‘look out, bad boy coming through.’ Drops of sweat flowed down the back of his neck, making Troy happy for the very short haircut. It was so much cooler when hair wasn’t everywhere on the top of your head much like a hat. The roar of the engine wasn’t really loud since it had to be a quiet get away mode of transportation when breaking a few laws. Larceny was a tactful sport and being stealthy was a key ingredient to win the prize – the money at the end of the rainbow.
Pulling up to the bar, kicking down the kickstand, he got off the bike. No helmet had been planted around his head, so need to take that off. There wasn’t much worry about anybody stealing. If somebody did, there was a built in GPS system all right there in his nose. Track them down and rough them up a bit, well, that was the plan, but nobody had been stupid enough to steal it. Walking into the bar with those biker boots, standard for owning a motorcycle since sneakers did not work at all, he kept the glasses on, rubbing the five o’clock shadow that’d been there for more than a few days. Heading toward the bar, the bartender slid a chilled beer bottle at him. Troy drank it religiously whenever coming in there. But food was longed for, so strides were took toward the scullery. Labors unfruitful, he took a seat on a counter or ledge sipping at his beer. The water forming along the sides remind him of the water so close to the building. Maybe later, if feeling frisky, find somebody to go skinny-dipping with. The water sounded majestic, but doing it with a woman sounded all the more better. Speaking of woman, one stood right in front of the doorway. Dark eyes trailed all of her curves drinking in every inch of her much like he was his beer. He sat there quietly, waiting to see how long it’d take her to notice.
Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 12, 2007 03:06 PM (GMT)
The frame of the door, all chipped mahogany wood was cool against V's palm as she rested her hand atop it. It was nice to feel something solid beneath her fingertips...lately she had been feeling like she was grasping at something that wasn't there...or just out of her reach, beyond her hand's grasp. It was hard for her to continuously strive for something unseen, in an attempt to be the best; to own everyone. She would never be more - or so she feared - than a little spy-come-servant girl in the Meutrier Coven. She couldn't say she didn't get jealous sometimes, of Kella in all her leading glory. Sure, she talked about all the pressure and whatever else she got shit for, but it was still better than other people assuming that just because you weren't on the top list of priorities for the coven, you were willing to let them use you as your own personal doormat.
There was also the small matter of her being a woman...and how people expected her to bend over willingly whenever anyone remotely famous/powerful with a penis should automatically lay claim to her. Hell, she knew she was attractive, but that didn't mean that she would practically let someone rape her. If she wasn't remotely attractive, and couldn't put limits on who and who she didn't shag, then perhaps she would be willing to let them paw her as if they'd never seen a female before. But she wasn't just any female...she rather liked kicking ass, so maybe it was good that some of them felt it their perfect right to treat her as their property. Even when in relationships, she couldn't say she was altogether...faithful. No, she never committed adultery, but there had been various situations were she was offered (and usually did), the opportunity to flirt like a maniac. It was nice to have some attention, and playing by the rules had never been a particularly strong point of Vs.
Her eyes scanned the bar, sub-consciously selecting a victim for her dinner tonight. This club was especially famed for those weaklings who sought after animal blood. Cowards. They didn't deserve their deadly fangs...if they weren't going to use them properly, then what was the point in being gifted with them? There was a dark haired man nestled over in the corner, currently being serenaded by a couple of low life whores, attempting to rap themselves around him. Pathetic. You didn't do the chasing...that made you weak. She could see the slender column of his neck from here, almost feel the erratic pulse beneath her fingertips, as she unknowingly flicked her tongue over her lips. If she tried hard enough, she could taste his blood adorning his lips.
She turned around in an attempt to find some sort of mirror to fix her make-up, before pursuing her target for the night, but also because she could sense his dark-eyed stare trickling over her corseted back like a caress. It was almost as if he was untying the crimson laces with his eyes. Even though she was semi-aware of his presence, when she turned to face him, she still jumped a little, at her being forced to acknowledge another (almost) human presence in the room with her, having so far been undecided as to whether he was a fabrication of her imagination. "Is it your job to sit there looking interesting?"
Troy Bradley White - August 12, 2007 09:11 PM (GMT)
The stench of vampirism wafted around in the air that was between the two of them, taking slow, delicate time to travel from destination A to destination B. The smell usually reeked of formaldehyde, combined with one own’s personal scent. Some smells were downright horrid, nothing but dried blood and ash or dirt or urine and some were so sickly sweet that it was overly intoxicating from a woman’s perfume, peaches or plums, or like a meadow on the hottest of days where the sun seems to melt away the aroma right off of a flower’s precious petals and the wind carries it away like blowing a sail on a boat. Each smell varied to person just by the soap they used, how clean they kept their house, if they owned any pets, and even by the minerals in the water that they showered in. Men were so not fun for smelling, at least for Troy. Like most everything else, women just did it so much better. Lotions, creams, perfumes, shampoo, soap, and so many other potions that just made them smell so fine. Women just smelt nice in the first place really. Smells, eyes, smiles, and breasts, which was the order for top four favorite things about women. This one had the eyes and clearly the breasts, so it was so far so good.
What she wore and they way she wore it was highly provocative in many ways. It was likely that she was well aware of it too. Did she wear it for a silent vex of attention? If she had no problem with her body, wouldn’t modesty work just as well? Either way, she pulled it off greatly, and not just in a whore kind of way either. In ways it made her look powerful to him, that she was out to concur the world and everybody that was in it. Not many women could pull it off, to feel confident. How was it so many were timid that life would bite them in the ass instead of trying to help them out? When it came to love, work, or anything else they could be as powerful as they wanted, yet they still couldn’t much the guts to ask out a guy, ask for that promotion, or whatever the situation required. This one in the doorway looked like she’d do anything to anyway just to get what she wanted. It was sexy when used in the right way. When girls bossed people around too much, it was very unappealing. Strange creatures were women.
With that vampiric scent, it was simplicity to know that she surely knew he was there, at least subconsciously. Taking another sip of his drink, the beer got sat down on the flat surface oh so quietly. The bar stank of vampire blood that flowed the little chutes that were vessels and arteries and capillaries, but their stomachs were not full of human blood rather animal blood that probably varied from dog to bear to pig. They were not Troy’s friends, just passersby that shared the same bond of feeling compassion towards humanity. Pointless murdering was not justified as all toward him. Yet, it could be better for the world. The world was starting to be overpopulated with people. Accidents and diseases were tragic, but sometimes well needed to keep the world in balance. Killing was just another form of keeping the world in balance, even for all the wrong reasons. It was tricky, sticky business. All too many would get very offended by that thinking, and many others of his thoughts, so usually kept them to himself.
Eyes still watched her, almost glazed over to a point, and as she turned around, his lip quivered into a small smirk, nothing really noticeable except to him for it was his muscles that were moving. Her face was equally as pretty. She seemed fit to be some artist’s inspiration, even fully clothed. She radiated beauty and both of them knew it. ”If it were, I seem to be doing something right,” he responded coolly, but almost without any emotion. Still sitting there, Troy leaned back as far as possible, putting hands behind him. ”Is it your job to be so infectiously tempting?” The seriousness in his voice was a form of sarcasm, yet meant it all the same. The suave young vampire looked coolly at her with dark eyes, not trying to feel so damn hot with the little beads of sweat creeping down the back of his neck. She looked so cool that he was almost envious, yet he felt quite relaxed in even in that stuffy vampiric bar. She could feast on humans, but he wasn’t really caring if he was mad or not; too hot.
Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 12, 2007 09:44 PM (GMT)
Could V sense that this young man didn't feast on humans? Probably not, hell she was a vampire, not psychic! Even if she did, it was unlikely she would care, at this particular moment in time. At first glance, he had looked plain...average even, but as she stood there, leaned up against the door frame in that annoyingly calm way of hers, her stare showed her that he was far from average looking. In fact, he was pretty damned attractive. She was close to a feed, and she loved hot weather, and so her hormones were in overdrive. As a child, she had been able to stand beneath the scorching out sun, and not burn, just tan considerably. Then, she was glad for her Romanian heritage...the way the sun picked up certain strands of her hair and highlighted them, hanging them almost chestnut against her thick, dark wealth of hair, vast and dark...like a vat of bitter chocolate.
It was hot today, bordering on unbearable, and beneath her corset, she could feel the sweat trickling between her shoulder blades, and beneath the waistband of her skirt. It was welcomed, it made her feel alive. Perhaps she was some kind of sensualist? Either way, she disliked the cold, and so when other people moaned and shied away from the sun, it was extremely likely for her to be seen strutting around semi-naked, ( as if that wasn't the usual anyway) basking in the sun's rays. He set the beer he had been drinking down on the counter, and she wondered briefly if she wanted one. Best not...maybe she'd return to the bar after she'd killed her victim. It was always nice to nestle in amongst the drunkards, and to lose yourself in your spirit...acting as if you were normal, as if you belonged. In actual fact, you were all fighting against each other; supreme race, supreme vampire...what did it matter? Constant competition was what this life was, in V's eyes. If she were a defeatist, she would have bloody well given up by now.
"If it were, I seem to be doing something right?" He said, and she furrowed her brows slightly, tucking a stray strand of dark hair that had escaped from the little bun at the back of her head behind her ear. Something right, why would that be? Because had succeeded in getting her to turn around and pay attention to him? That was natural for her...she'd spent the last few years having to watch her back, after all. In this day and age, if you sensed someone, it wasn't generally a good idea to just...let it go. You could end up dead for that.
"Is it your job to be so infectiously tempting?" He said, and she tipped her head back a little to laugh, mouth stretching into a smile. Ah, so he did have a sense of humour, did he? If she listened to serious tone to his voice, it was infused with a slight sarcasm, and laced with light wit for good measure. She waved her hand in a nonchalant way. "It...may have come up on the CV." She regarded him for a moment, one eyebrow arching slightly. "So what's your job, soldier? They pay you to sit around sculleries waiting for...what was it, infectiously tempting...women to come and find you? Slightly vulnerable, someone could...take advantage?" Her words were teasing, light. She couldn't be arsed to fight him at the present moment in time, and so far, she couldn't seen any reason to.
Troy Bradley White - August 13, 2007 02:05 AM (GMT)
Seasons came and go just as simply as the tides into which so many paid little attention too unless a meteorologist or a sailor. It was just something everybody grew accustomed to things such as those similar to the way a person got used to the honking horns and flashing city lights compared to chirping crickets and starry country nights. It happened, people got used to it, and things such as those things happened. Then again there was always that excitement with the first fallen piece of white snow falling from the heavens like a piece of cloud was being dusted off, the changing colors of so many that eventually floated listlessly with the breeze, and even the fresh peak of bright green grass, no matter how soggy the melt snow has made the ground. Natural occurrences such as these everybody was accustomed to, knew they’d happen, but still got a little too overjoyed when it happened. When they were dreaming of summer minds would wander to winter, but when they were in summer, they were wishing for the cool months. It seemed to be quite a never-ending cycle of bitching. Troy didn’t hate or love any season. Weather changed, he adapted, and it was that simple.
Water that had condensed along the beer’s sides was still wet on his fingertips where they were being massaged by a different finger on the same hand, taking in the slippery feeling. A very odd question escaped into his seemingly wandering mind: ‘when did I drink my first beer?’ It wasn’t high school since senior year was filled up with being captain of the basketball team where they would get random drug and alcohol testing which meant illegal substances were not appreciated. Not so long ago Troy had been the somewhat popular basketball star that got the girls, mostly because of his looks fueled by popularity, and hadn’t gotten into too many fights, which could be said differently now. He was known, but not popular. He fought, a lot. He didn’t get girls; he got women, and anything younger then twenty was not worth it. Even if they were one night stands, it would have been nice to find a woman with true fiber; a personality of sorts, not some ditzy drunk that couldn’t tell the difference between a lime and a fucking lemon. God, the girls he did before he had those small stands. The thought of Lorraine, a one nighter from long ago, just gave him goose bumps. That one would have stalked him for days!
Dark eyes traveled her body again, but not in a creepy, pathetic I-can’t-get-laid work, but almost as if admiration was going on. As much as the guy could scam on a woman, he could also admire them. They were moving pieces of art that should have been painted, but no piece of sculpture or canvas of paint could capture beauty a woman exuded with the way she talked, walked, thought, smiled, and could say anything she wanted with body language or the way her eyes bore holes into a person. Art couldn’t pick up their determination, motivation, and stubbornness. All women, every shape and size, was amazing, that much was certain. Troy was one of the best horn dogs out there, even he’d admit to that, but loving a woman took something special because they were so special. He had new vampire blood rolling through him, no reason to fall in love just yet, if that was even capable of the guy. The only love that had been given, besides to his family, was to that motorcycle outside. That thing was his baby!
”If I got paid for that, miss, I’d never miss work.” Miss was formal, like somehow he’d grown manners over the night. It wasn’t a trick, just the way he talked. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was still kind of nice, something brought back from Jane Austen’s books. Somehow though, the words sounded so confident and reassured. ”Nothing wrong with being taken advantage of from time to time.” Eyes lit up as Troy spoke, almost in a longing manner, but not quite so forceful. Maybe something along the lines of ‘tempt me and let’s just see how vulnerable I am’. The woman standing there was gorgeous, beautiful, or any word that could define such beauty that seemed to radiate both inner and outer emotions. Just the grace in her shoulders and sun kissed hair were spectacular. Either way, if they got friendly, it would be a pleasure, if not, then he’d go out and find somebody minimally unequal to the goddess before him. It’s what he was reminded of; no vampire, not plain Jane, but a goddess. She was fit to be a woman of Sparta, giving birth to the best of soldiers, equal as men (in that time), and were just as strong. She could hold the world on her shoulders and still look good. That was the power of woman.
Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 13, 2007 09:58 PM (GMT)
Vorena studied the room she'd seen so many times before. She'd found herself in here many a night, whether drunk and needing to hug the porcelain for a while (Not her best look, she had to admit...), to lay someone, or to feed, in a variety of ways. Actual food, the kind that you could buy in those supermarkets with the bright neon lights and tacky slogans, or the kind that you usually found at a blood drive. V found she liked the latter better, considering she didn't really eat all that much. Food was not a necessity to her, hell she was dead anyway. Besides, she had a pretty slow metabolism, so she couldn't afford to just eat anything and maintain her constant body weight. After eating a big meal, or indeed a big feed, she had to go kick Nathaniel's butt majorly...just to keep herself in tip-top condition. It wasn't just her vanity that she worked out for, but her need to keep fit, and on top of everything. She was generally well known for being to fend for herself. Should a weakling take her and she wasn't ready for him or her, it could have catastrophic effects on her reputation. Yes, reputation meant a lot to V, you never knew what people were saying...whether it was good or bad, would hurt or heal you. Gossip was a bitch, and anyone with two brain cells to rub together knew that.
He was studying her, drinking her in much as he must have done the can that now laid abandoned on the work surface. She felt her blood sing under his scrutiny, because generally, she liked being looked at, and made no secret of that. If she didn't, she would have dressed a little more conservatively, but as of now, she was perfectly happy to flaunt her assets. Two of these being her breasts. It was kind of nice to have something to divert some asshole's attention when you ended up with a parking ticket, or just generally needed a drink and had no money. It was a purely superficial way to use her femininity, but for the 101 years she'd been alive, it had worked sufficiently. Well, obviously not the whole 101 hog, because otherwise, she would have been born with D cups...which was just a gross thought really.
"If I got paid for that, miss, I’d never miss work.” Hmm...she could bet he wouldn't mind. He seemed like the type of man to like sex on tap, especially from the experienced ladies. That didn't mean he went for slags...just the virgin thing may have been overrated. V didn't know, she was just guessing, but she was usually good at judging other people's character, and wasn't normally wrong. Still, there was a first time for everything and within due time she'd see if she could find out more. The way his eyes were traveling over the curves of her body with that lean, hungry look to the glint made him seem almost predator like. In stance, in looks, in the way he was looking at her. Where as with most normal people, it would have made them recoil, V seemed to stand up a little straighter against the door frame, pushing her hands up to grip around the very top, arching her back and pushing her breasts forward slightly, pushing the door shut with her foot simultaneously.
"Nothing wrong with being taken advantage of from time to time.” He said, and she smiled...seemed like her kind of guy, anyway. "What do you do, what's your day job?" He didn't look like an assassin, though his muscle tone had the right idea. No, he just didn't have that air to him. She pressed her back against the door and awaited his answer, wondering if he would approach her. As she'd mentioned before, she had yet to learn of his character traits.
Troy Bradley White - August 14, 2007 12:07 AM (GMT)
Mmm…beer made a good dinner. Empty stomach plus alcohol usually got him in a form of being high. Why it was so damn funny for him to see himself acting like such an idiot was one of those questions that have a sensible answer, not that the question was all too sensible in the first place. When drunk, he could be the life of the party doing something so bad ass that nobody would ever forget, no matter the state they were in, but sometimes it was so pathetic laughing just at the word vanilla or even just start laughing like a little school girl. The man could be a great drunk, but could also be…silly. When it came to drinking, especially without food of any sort of form floating around in gastric juice, one or two was the limit. While blood was a substantial portion to the diet, it didn’t lust after him like it really should, taking over every fiber of the brain. Dreaming, breathing, sleeping, and everything else should have revolved around that crimson liquid. It didn’t though. It was probably due to the fact that usually he would have a flask with blood and every piece of food or drink got a shot of it. It seemed to keep the thirst away. Tonight though, he didn’t have the flask, but had fed earlier, so no worries there.
The place they were in was not a fancy, high-class place, but good enough for the low lives that were just average Joes. While the guy wasn’t exactly average, he once had been and it didn’t take work to fit in here. It was one reason this thief would ever consider from stealing from them, at business or at home. Larceny was the prime source of all income for him, but it was a personal luxury. It was a thrill to break into some place, taking something of high value, and not sentimental value either; and strolling out of their like the world was his on a silver platter. Stealing from the rich and give to himself, it was a modern tale of Robin Hood. Few people would give what they worked so hard for to just go and give it to somebody else. Most passersby that found a thousand dollars lying on the street would keep it. Some would definitely turn it in, but a large sum such as that made a person wonder and thinking about meant that your morals weren’t set in stone. Somebody would be able to shake them easily, those that quivered at the thought of right and wrong.
He continued to watch her like she was a wolf ready to rip out the very throat that had been bitten not so many years ago, eventually spreading around the virus that turned people into children of the night. All memory of the motorcycle accident that put him in the position to need bitten wasn’t a memory at all since much of it was foggy. At one point bum was on the seat, at the next point bum was flying through air. Troy got lost in that thought as she stretched, reminding him much of a tigress, as she so nimbly closed the door. Unlike normal men whose eyes would have popped out of there skull and tongue dropped to the floor, this vampire just sat there, ripping off her clothes with his eyes. She had nice…assets. It was easy to tell that she was playing him just as easy as a game of five-card stud. Nothing was wrong with being played, at least when it came to females and sex, if they were trying to get at something else, the emotion of extreme anger boiled throughout him. Like most men, thinking was down with the head in his pants and God had only given men a brain and a penis, but only enough blood to operate one at the same time. Fuck she was hot and needless to say, only one head was working.
She was playing him, which was fine, but he so didn’t like it. He wanted to have that power of pulling on women’s heartstrings or…whatever. It didn’t matter; it was all about give and take so he wasn’t going to fight her for this imaginary power. After a few seconds of silence, he slipped off of the counter and took a few long steps that put the muscular guy in front of her, briskly touching his chest with hers. Leaning forward a little, merely tempting her, a smile cracked those rough features as a respond came out in almost a whisper, as if the walls might be able to hear him. ”As of right now, you.” It wasn’t that great of a line since anybody with half a brain could put the words ‘do’ and ‘you’ together, but it was the way that it was said; rough and with so much confidence. The ball was in her court now.
Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 14, 2007 05:57 PM (GMT)
He was watchful of her, wary even. He had good reason. You couldn't really trust anybody on first meeting, especially when in a bar notorious for it's inhabitants, most known vampires. Vicious vampires, too. However, in an attempt to establish an uneasy sense of peace, feigned as it was, they left their crazy alter-egos at the door, and covered themselves in the night, at least ready to pretend they were halfway decent people. They were all liars. Half the people currently residing in this bar lacked any sort of morales or conscience. Among them were whores, cheaters, liars and murderers. Cold blooded, warm blooded, what difference did it make just as long as it was something blooded. It was kind of nice sometimes, to sit amongst them all and feel almost like a good person. Then a full scale bar brawl would break out, or you'd end up copping off with the bartender, and your feeling of self righteousness came crashing down around your ears. A harsh jolt back to your reality, and a much needed wake-up call. Who needed to be a straight edge kid, when there was so much pleasure to be found from being bad ass.
There was a picture of Jesus on a nearby wall, thought why she didn't know. It wasn't as if this bar was particularly appealing to a religious believer. Especially not Jesus upon his cross, when years ago and before the process of evolution, the wooden crosses had been a repellent to a vampire. It led her to thinking about her religion. V didn't believe in God. She didn't know why, but she realised that it was possibly because if there was some sort of a God, he would have done something to her by now. For everything she'd done, the people she killed...how promiscuous she was. It was a wonder the skies hadn't opened up yet, and white lightening struck her down where she stood. A huge fuck off to anyone who ever dared get jiggy with it outside of marriage ever again. Oh well, she'd live without God's favour, it wasn't as if he'd been pretty good to her in her abnormally long life anyway. First he had given her vain selfish shits as parents, then killed her sister off, sent her to a burlesque hall, and eventually got some sorry sucker (quite literally), to suck the blood from her neck...branding her forever one of the living dead.
She realised then that she had been averting her gaze for several seconds, which was rude of her, when all was said and done. It wasn't that he disinterested her, she just had tendencies to drift off into her own little fairytale world where she didn't bare marks of her crimes on the skin of her neck and life was so much simpler. Oh Lord, if she was someone else and could hear her thoughts, she would have slapped herself. She didn't do depressed. He was baring down upon her, a breath away from her, but he seemed relatively calm, for someone who was being called up by Vorena. He was...different, he didn't smell, right. That would sound bizarre to anyone who wasn't a vampire, but she had ways of sensing these things. The taste of blood in the air between them was tangible, and if she flicked out her tongue against the humid night air, she was sure she would be able to taste it, infused with the sexual tension. Her teeth were extended anyway...she never hid them unless needing to stalk a human. She was not ashamed of what she was... She lifted herself up on her tip-toes and pressed a steady kiss against the pulse point of his neck, before scraping one of her fangs against the skin, watching, transfixed as a rivulet of blood sprang free from the pore to trickle down the skin.
"As of right now, you.”He said, and she laughed, chasing the droplets of blood with her fingertip and bringing it to her lips to suckle at it resolutely. "Confident aren't we..." She rolled the taste of the blood around her taste palette, almost gagging when she realised the alien flavour was not a human's blood, or a vampires for that matter. Animal's blood. Oh fuck it, he was a bloody Sanguinairre. She caught the lobe of his ear between her teeth and breathed relatively heavily against his neck. "...and a weakling." And suddenly, she wasn't calm at all, she was V, feisty, passionate V that a lot of people ran away from. She placed the skin of her neck near his mouth, tantalising him with the soft scent of vanilla she usually wore. "Go on, bite. I dare you." She could feel the blood that she was offering, jumping erratically against her skin, in her aroused but slightly angry state. She had two options, fuck him, or kill him. They'd see how that transpired soon enough...
Troy Bradley White - August 15, 2007 12:05 AM (GMT)
The scullery was starting to get a little stuffy from her closing the door, cutting off the main circulation of air that was being provided. There was, however, a back screen door where he could smell the beach not too far off. If concentrating hard enough, suntan lotion clogged the air from all of those that had been worried about cancer from the sun. Vampires didn’t have to worry about cancer, just the sun. Too much of it and they were in pain. It was a whole other reason to wear a jacket and jeans, less skin being exposed to those rays. The world itself was so paranoid anymore that it kind of made him sick. They were paranoid for a good reason, but Troy just got mad at them. People didn’t worry about contracting skin cancer a hundred years ago, or hardly fifty. It was a danger, sure, but if humans weren’t so simple minded at things. All the girls he’d gone to high school went just sat in tanning beds whenever they had free time because that fresh-from-the-beach look was so much more important. By the time they were thirty, wrinkles, crow’s feet, and whatever else that might ruin their appearance would form. That would just lead to more surgery. Women and cosmetic surgery just kind of pissed him off for no reason at all. It was a fact they’d grow old, but…he forgot that he wouldn’t. Vampirism could be a real bitch.
Had most of his attention not been on the exotic woman in front of him, he’d be in a lazy state of mind. With the heat that clung in the atmosphere like an extra layer of skin, the way it made him almost feel tired, and by the lulling thump that was the heart inside of the ivory bones that made up the cavity so rhythmic, so comforting, would have left him just standing there, listening, feeling, and soon to doze off. But the opposite effect was happening. Adrenaline pulsed that seemed to waken and liven up his senses. It felt like Troy could hear every bead of sweat trickle, the crashing sound the waves made; could smell the flour that had been spilled on the floor, the decay in the walls around them; and could see the smallest of things, like the ant in the corner that was beginning to crawl up the side of the building, little antenna-like legs squirming around, clinging for life. It was funny how at one second somebody could be the ant, struggling up the wall, while in the next second; they could be the walls, towering over an ant. It was just another form of cat and mouse; somebody was one or the other.
The picture of Jesus didn’t bother him. For him, there was no God. It wasn’t anything that happened throughout his life, that might have struck up this option, but just something he hadn’t believe in for quite some time, especially since he was a child. His family would say grace, but it was merely for the sake of Mom. When looking into old man White’s eyes during this time of prayer, they’d be wide and blinking, but with no sort of emotion behind them. To him, it would have worked the same if praying to a tree or rock. People looked too far into things that happened in their lives. For instance, if somebody looked back at the accident that he’d been in with the motorcycle, they could have said that God was telling him that something new would be coming into his life or that things needed to be changed with the way he was living. Troy would simply counter with what he thought was fact; or it could have just been the cause of being a reckless driver, not paying attention to the road, or the dude in front of him being a complete idiot hitting the brakes so quickly. God had nothing to do with it. Miracles might have happened, but you couldn’t explain them, so who said it had anything to do with spirits as holy as a god?
When her fangs dug into his skin, he instinctively moved his head back to let her. Of all the women vampires he’d gotten between the sheets with, it seemed they were all distinctively in the mood for blood as they got sex too. It didn’t work that way for men, at least him anyway. None of them liked the idea of watching ESPN in the background if they were in some sort of room. The thought of her drinking his blood – HIS blood – wasn’t a welcoming thought. Weakling. The words didn’t sting or hurt or really piss him off. Was it the best she could do? Too many had called Troy that it was practically a disease he had been immune too. The smell of vanilla passed from her, into his nose, and detected in the brain. Her neck was right there, and he wasn’t even tempted to bite it like she’d done to him. Putting the tips of those deadly fangs at her flesh, he didn’t do anything, almost as if he was hesitating, making her wonder what would be the end result. Finally, massive hands fell onto her shoulders, pushing her back against the door, lips moving to her ear, much the way she had done previously. ”I don’t play silly games with silly girls,” he whispered. The fact she was Meutrier pissed him off, but he was too far gone to care.
Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 15, 2007 06:02 PM (GMT)
Religion hadn't really played all that big a part in Vorena's life either. She'd been quite a stubborn child, and she had had no desire to sit in hard wooden pews every Sunday, waiting for Father whatsisname to finish his year long sermon. She went every Christmas, mostly because she was the one who got to put baby Jesus into the crib, seen as she was always the smallest. And it had been kind of law that you had to go to church way back in the day. As she'd grown up with revolution, however, she'd found herself taking less and less interest in God, and her religion in general. She had been christened, as was the 'in' thing, but had apparently screamed throughout the whole ceremony. She could see why, one of her biggest fears was drowning...no wonder she was scarred for life. Fucking idiot of a priest. It was either that or the holy water had had some sort of psychic quality to it, burning her for her sins that she would commit way later in life. Well, from the ages of sixteen upwards.
A young age to get bitten really, not that she would allow herself to dwell on it all that much. She'd thought it pretty straight forward, glamorous even, to be a vampire. Something mysteriously sexy about the cloak of night. She'd assumed that she would just be left to live her life as normal within the daylight hours, and then at night take to partying with cool blood sucking fiends like herself. There was just one, itsy bitsy problem. In the beginning, she'd been wild for the blood, and she'd found out that the hour the clock on her bedroom wall pointed to really made no difference to her frantic mood swings. At sixteen, her sex drive was already through the roof as well, which wasn't good for her parents, who were supposedly Christians. A promiscuous, bed hopping daughter was not what she needed. When she started her periods, she had found this odd. Vampires were not supposed to have periods...they were infertile, the living dead. Her parents, pretending to be caring and professional, had sent her to a specialist, who had proclaimed V 'semi fertile', which basically meant there was a sliver of a possibility she may get pregnant. The 'Doctor' had said that this could be down to the fact she had originally come from non-vampiric parents. Oh well, the chances were low, but it was still possible, right?
As a teenager, she was half scared she had wished for the chance to cradle her own baby in her arms. She'd watched her friends grow up, marry and start families of their own. Begin being loved by their partners. To be normal. As the years went on, she really realised how much she craved this. Normality and stability. They were two things she hadn't seen a lot of in her lifetime. There was also a distinct lack of routine. As soon as her parents had found out that there was an extremely low chance she would conceive, they had basically left her to her own devices. Leaving food out for her and shunning her. When she started bringing them home, in a desperate bid for attention, they'd thrown her out. Little V out in the big bad world on her own, given her case full of her slutty clothes and told to go and make something of herself, or die and save everyone the trouble. A hard childhood was an understatement. She didn't have a childhood to remember, she hadn't been allowed one. The next thing she knew, she was residing with Kella in the burlesque, selling herself off to lusty men.
He moved his head back to accommodate her mock feeding pose, but she didn't attempt to gauge his neck open or rip his throat out. It appeared he'd now realised she was Meutrier, because really, who else possessed the love for the human blood, and detested the Sanguinairre's so freely for feasting on animals? "I don’t play silly games with silly girls,” He whispered into her ear and she found her breathing quickening slightly at the dominance. It was kind of nice to have someone fight back every once in a while. "That's good, because I don't play silly little games..." she answered, pushing her hips against his and tugging his bottom lip into her mouth, releasing it to say, "You have two options here, sweet. Pick the easy way out, and do what you want to..."She began weaving her hand beneath his shirt to stroke the soft ripple of muscle. "Or...you can fight me. Either way, I just might let you live when it's over."
(OOC: Troy, check your pms...I have had an idea.)
Troy Bradley White - August 16, 2007 09:47 PM (GMT)
Troy was still young enough to not regret the choice of staying hidden by the dark of night, to watch all of his once was friends grow up to have families of their own, even if some of them already had. He was twenty-six, still young no matter which way it was looked at, and all of his friends were around the same age so were either single or had popped out two kids by now. Never had there been any sort of hope or dream to become a father. Passing on traits to some little brat did not exactly sound thrilling like a roller coaster, unless this coaster just pummeled right into the ground, killing all of those on board. See, that would be what he imagined life would be like with somebody that shared your DNA running around the place. In so many ways he’d be a terrible father; the drinking, the motorcycle, the leaving, but to females that really knew him, friends, they probably would have said how great of a father he’d be; great with kids, considerate, a big himself, and just a really great guy. Never though, would he be able to see this guy as somebody that would stay home when toddler was sick, feeding him, changing his diapers, or having to buy a real vehicle to carry junior around in. For somebody that hadn’t thought too much about it, he sure was gung-ho to have a boy.
The reason he was such a player was because there was no chance of kids. He was sterile, supposedly anyway. He hadn’t gone in to a doctor’s to ask them if kids were no longer a chance. If he was any sort of man, he’d just get snipped, but that was too terrifying to even think about! For men to get, in a way, ‘fixed’ was a whole lot harder for them to come to terms with then women, at least in their own heads. Women just had to have an internal procedure that would effectively get rid of their periods and menopause, but men, it was cutting off a part of them! Fuck that! He’d rather not have sex his whole life, if that was the case, but that wasn’t. He couldn’t have kids so bring on the ladies! That was Troy’s general philosophy anymore, not the bring on the ladies part, although it was a good one, but more of the general bring it on philosophy. Nothing was going to get in the way of what he wanted, even if ‘wanted’ was used loosely for ‘not sure.’
Didn’t play silly little games? Really? Well what kind of game was she playing now? Oh well, she was confident enough that it didn’t matter to him. Feeling her hips grind up against his own, successfully turning him on, not that it took much, hands moved toward her, settling on the swell of her hips, reacting with hormones, definitely not his head, or at least the one upstairs. With her at his lips, his facial features remained the same even though on the inside a grin the size of the Grand Canyon formed. ”Easy way out’s never fun.” That was said from so many moments of personal experience. There was never truly an easy way out of anything, just something that took less work and probably held more consequences. The hard way had a tendency of being more fun in the long run. Bending forward, Troy kissed up along her shoulder to her neck. ”Fighting? Doll, I live for it. And living would be great,” he whispered against the flesh of her neck as one of his hands crawled up the sides of her body, feeling at each and every curve that this strange woman had to offer.
Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 17, 2007 12:36 AM (GMT)
V wasn't one of those people who are fooled by baby's cute appearances (When the baby in question wasn't born ugly), because she did grow up with a sister four years her junior. Which meant, at least two years from the age of four upwards listening to her sister cry all night. She could remember sitting there and wondering what could possibly need attending to right away that Gaia had to wail about it constantly. Of course, as she'd grown she learned that there were three possibly outcomes to this scenario; the baby being hungry, the baby soiling his diaper, the baby being tired. Most of these were fixed relatively quickly, and she'd see her mother disappear into the baby's room carrying a bottle or the necessary equipment, and think that the crying would stop. But it never really did. As V lay there, she could still hear the quiet snuffles of her baby sister next store, whimpering softly in an attempt to get comfortable once more after disturbing itself from slumber. Pretty damned annoying, she'd found it, come to think of it. Why the hell was the baby still crying, when it was waited on hand foot and finger and woke everyone else in the darn household up with it's incessant crying and moaning. It didn't help that after having the baby, it was like talking to a brick wall when attempting to engage in conversation with either parent. They spent their day sickeningly cooing over said baby in the crib, or doing whatever it was you did with a baby. If V was handed one right now, she'd probably give it back. She didn't know how to take care of one - but it didn't stop her wanting one.
"Easy way out’s never fun.” He said, and she wasn't altogether sure she agreed. Sometimes, the easy way out was a hell of a lot better than getting your facial features rearranged, or several bones broken. True, it'd heal, but V was naturally very vain. If it came down to fight or run, she'd usually fight, but only when it was her last resort. However, rile her up a little before hand, and she'd probably take someone out just as soon as they said the wrong thing to her. It just depended on what kind of a day she was having. What side of bed she got out of, if you like. People who's first meeting with V, and they encounter her 'wrong side of the bed mood', didn't really tend to take to her all that easily. Otherwise, she was pretty happy-go-lucky. Likely to shag your boyfriend if you nipped off to go to the loo, but still, pretty likable. If that was possible based on that intriguing piece of information.
He hadn't really held out all that long to touch her, considering his hands were now on her waist. Then again, she couldn't say she'd really took him to be a patient kind of guy. At all. They had, after all, gone from a semi-normal conversation, complete with helpings of innuendo, to angry and riled. Not really good character traits, when all was said and done. This meeting was certainly going to be interesting, looking around the room there was the table, the counter, or the door they were currently up against. His hormones were obviously already all over the shop, so what he would do was completely beyond her imagination. It was kind of nice not knowing him, but knowing he was the enemy. Like all the bad things she'd done that year had been like...pre-school compared to this. Sanguinairre. Shiiiit. If K found out she was definitely dead. She forced herself to stop thinking about that and attempting to stop herself tensing and pushing towards him slightly when he kissed her neck and shoulders. Can I hear you say weak spot? Er, yeah.
"Fighting? Doll, I live for it. And living would be great,” He said, and his hands began to creep up her body. If he was planning on getting her out of this top, he'd best not rip it. That would be what the ribbons were for. Somehow, she doubted he'd pay much attention to that little detail, and she'd end up going home topless underneath her coat. Greeeat. Lucky thing it was warm and not windy, otherwise the whole of the alley would have got a birds-eye view of her lady substances. She pressed her lips against his more fully, and as if on autopilot, her hands drifted down to toy with his belt buckle, ghosting slightly over the bulge against his trousers, tongue flicking out at his bottom lip. Seeking permission? Maybe, but otherwise known as a reflex reaction. It was pretty sad, actually, that that was what it was. She smiled against his lips and nipped his tongue slightly, deciding to completely throw caution to the wind and say, "Fighting, huh? Tell me, do the animals put up much of a fight?" It was harsh and she laughed against his mouth, not deliberately intending to offend, but probably delighting in it if it did get him all angry. Anger was good. It showed you were alive.
Troy Bradley White - August 31, 2007 02:44 AM (GMT)
Considering that she didn’t seem to be his favorite person for the shortest length of time, his hands sure flowed over her body like they were ripples moving over the water that would slowly disappear with time. It wasn’t as if he thought that she might slowly fade as time grew on, but a woman that had the sex appeal as she did would certainly be gone minutes after. She knew what she wanted, would go after it until she got it, and then leave it when no longer wanting it. He wasn’t stereotyping her, but that was how he was and there was a sense that both shared some of the same personalities. This was just one of the similarities they probably had. Just like the similarities that varied, yet shared, there was probably an abundance of differences. The woman was all fine and dandy with killing others just so she could survive a little extra longer, and with reading a little too much into her own body language and the way she spoke, using people and judging them knowing they’d do the same back, even if she was still surprised that they felt the way they did. Odds were he could have called her some extremely vulgar word that she deep down already knew, but he’d still end up with a red hand mark across his face for his efforts of returning her shallowness. Then again, he really was reading to far into the few minutes that they had exchanged time.
Already she was proving herself to be the vixen she probably thought people expected from her. They saw the way she looked, even a little bit of the way she reacted and just assumed that anything would have been done to please herself by pleasing somebody else by getting down on her knees. Just with the briefest of moments of looking into her eyes, Troy could see how strong she truly was. There was no doubt everybody had been through something traumatic beyond all doubt, some had the strength to survive, others didn’t, and this woman was a survivor, no matter how she got through. Perhaps if the vampira hadn’t taken the route that had led to such sexual ventures then maybe little ones would have looked at her as a role model, but what did he truly know about her capacity for children? She was at his belt already, more then less signaling she was going to get what she wanted. He liked that attitude about her, but just couldn’t condone the fact that this…vampire in front of him murdered off people. What if their species could have kids? She wouldn’t want her kid to be suckled at by a vampire would she? Subconscious thoughts not getting far there, mind too far-gone to be only running by the blood going to his other head.
Massive hands began to undo the corset, knowing all too well how so many women treated their clothes like they were almost living breathing things they’d never want to part with. Tearing a shirt would get him in more trouble then killing off a person with some women. She knew where his angers were at and it really drove him batty. It pissed him off that she said such a horrible thing like that. Almost done with unfastening that damned piece of clothing that should have been outlawed everywhere, Troy boiling with anger and passion, gripped her elbows roughly and pushed her over to the counter, pushing her into it a little too hard, but he knew she could take it. Finally unraveling that corset, letting it fall, he gripped her hips and pulled her up onto the counter so he had better access with her being short compared to him. His lips pressed into hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth, hands feeling freely at her exposed skin, one caressing up her back, feeling each and every individual spine. Would he get into trouble for this? Probably more than he knew.
Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - September 2, 2007 06:00 PM (GMT)
This man had serious problems when it came to delivering mixed messages. He loved her, he hated her, he loved her, he hated her. Vorena felt like she was on some sort of see-saw, up and down like a white knuckle roller coaster. It was kind of unusual to find someone who would play along with her games that even she found pretty tedious at certain times. One thing she could be sure of, no matter how much he would deny it at a later date (Especially if their leaders ever found out...then they were dead), he did want her. That was the beauty of being attractive. You could be a bitch, and downright horrible, and everyone would still love to hate you. Sex appeal is a wonderful thing at the best of times, but upon the times that are the worst, it was still pretty good. As much as someone hated your guts, they still couldn't deny that when it all came down to it, they still wouldn't kick you out of bed. Literally, that didn't couldn't be applied to this situation, because there just wasn't a bed in the vicinity, but plenty of other surfaces that V's dirty little mind was thinking of putting to good use. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No day but today and all that bollocks.
Surprisingly, he was taking his time with her clothes. Good. Over the years, she'd accumulated a fair amount of money, most of which was whittled away on pointless but fetching clothes that cost close to an arm and a leg. V figured that since you couldn't take it with you, when she did eventually die, that was, you may as well use it now. Besides, she had like what? Another hundred years or so before she started weakening. Aww, aging was a beautiful thing when you were a vampire - unless you were unfortunate looking to begin with. It was quite nice to feel the almost non existent breeze creep up her skin as fastening after fastening became unhitched. A shiver? Maybe, but it may have gone undetected, or at least the she hoped so. It wasn't that she was easy, well alright, maybe she was, it was just that she'd never been able to cope with a serious relationship, and so sex was the closest she'd ever got to love. In reality people couldn't deal with her. Other men would look, and sometimes touch, and it was a hard job to promise she wouldn't touch back when all she'd ever known was a burlesque hall, sex drugs and rock 'n' roll. How could you deny her the pleasures of the young, even if she was the big 1-0-1?
She had deliberately said something like she had to rile him. Soppy men were useless, and lacked back bone. V had been raised in an era where people didn't let their women walk all over them - so why should she be all into being a feminist? It was kind of...nice, to have someone take charge for a while. However, she wasn't all too happy about being ragged around like his little doll, and she squeezed defiantly at his crotch, scowling and catching her breath as she was hoisted up on the counter, leaning back on her palms to support herself and feeling her bare breast heave under his scrutiny. She rolled her eyes as he grabbed her hips and yanked her towards him, but her bravado was misplaced as he kissed her with such a ferocity she wondered if she stopped breathing for a short amount of time. Surprisingly, she didn't bite at his lips, but instead offered him her caustic tongue with that Latina fire she burned with. Not that it would have done much if she had tried to refuse him, he seemed like the type of person to demand entry. She wound her legs around his waist and jolted him closer, until she was practically sitting on him, more than the counter. Delicate hands framed his face, but no matter how soft the touch on his face was, her kisses were desperate, seeking. She scrammed her fingernails down the front of his shirt, eventually unbuttoning it and throwing it to the side, wondering what his next move would be. He was pretty much predictable so far, considering she was half-naked before him. She shifted a little closer to him, pressing her bare chest up against his own and finally finishing the task of unzipping his pants until they fell in an untidy heap on the floor. She pulled back to smile a little, just because she could in this situation. She'd already reduced him to taking her clothes off; essentially, he had succumbed.