.hold. on LOOSELY (boundaries of the U N D E R W O R L D)

Title: .hold. on LOOSELY
Description: open

Kella Credence Diesel - July 20, 2007 06:02 PM (GMT)

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 21, 2007 11:30 PM (GMT)

Vorena twitched, restlessly. The shivers that ran through her racked her body violently, and she craved. Oh, how she craved. The death, the pain factored into her desire tonight, but the blood was what she needed. Always had to have the blood. Like some insane junkie she prowled the twilight, seeking out victims that were deemed delicious enough to devour. Not that she had much choice, of course. Once the craving took her, she was powerless to the allure the crimson liquid passed. Never a clean killer either. She often returned to the coven painted in the bloodshed, leaving it dry on her face just for the comfort. To know she'd taken the life of another, or cursed them to immortality as some form of the undead. At this thought she threw her head back and cackled, closing her eyes slightly. The violent motion sending her jet black curls cascading over her shoulders, like liquid night sky rushing down her back.

At the sound of her laugh resounding off of the empty room she sat in, her eyes snapped open, glittering with that resolute madness that she often possessed. Why couldn't she go out and kill tonight? Was this some sort of test on her part, set to her by Kella? It annoyed her when she was prevented from the hunt. Her soul craved it with a dark intensity that she thought Kella had shared, understood, but if she was so intent on depriving her of it...surely they felt differently? The truth was, she was a vampire. And she lived to love blood. For someone with immense mind control, and the need to dominate any situation she happened to find herself in, the inevitable current that washed over and threatened to drown her whenever the withdrawal symptoms started up actually scared her. Vorena wanted to take the reigns, set herself loose on the world. Tonight, she had no choice but to prowl her room restlessly, waiting for someone's return.

Her head dropped between her knees as she began to shake, back muscles pulled taut and contracting painfully as she writhed. She shot up again, however, when the sound of a gun's bullet ricocheting off the walls in the room below her penetrated her semi-conscious daze. She was immediately awake, and thought that instead of tormenting herself with sitting in the room by herself, she should go and 'befriend' the other person who had entered the artillary room. Sometimes she liked it down there, but with the blurred shadows of the skulls, you could never be too sure who was watching...waiting for you to make a wrong move. This was why she never went down there when she was alone. Scared? Maybe. Would she admit it to anyone? Definitely not. Sometimes, she feared her own kind more than she did the werewolves, who packed such a genocidal hate for all vampires.

Pushing herself up off the bed, she arched her back, preening for some unseen audience. She made her way down the steps cautiously, sliding her feet silently against the flagged stone floor. She didn't fancy her chances on creeping up on someone who didn't fancy being disturbed. Her nerves didn't improve, however, when she found the room to be in pitch blackness. She had only known the dark, throughout her life of course, so she was not fearful to the point of terrified, but something still told her to keep her guard up. Padding cautiously into the centre she sniffed the air cautiously and her pupils immediately dilated and constricted violently. Blood. Fresh blood. Some bitch had been on the kill without her. It hit her then, that this was probably Kella. Using her eyesight, newly improved over the years, she negotiated her way to where her leader stood, putting her face next to Kella's ear and whispering,"Well, look who's come out to play...", and then laughing again, quieter but undeniably throatier.

She watched for her reaction, wondering if she'd manage to scare her leader with her soft approaches and silkily whispered words, multiplied of course, due to their immense hearing skills. All their senses seemed to be sharp like that; especially the eye-sight. Strange really, considering bats really couldn't seem to see that well. Made them easier to catch though, unfortunate as it was to eat your own kind...it was still food. Vorena was aware of how deliciously disheveled she looked, with her ripped clothes (Which she had torn herself in her restless state) which only just covered her modestly, and the various bite-marks adorning her tanned skin. She resembled some sort of vampire whore who'd just rolled out of someone's bed, more than anything else.

Kella Credence Diesel - July 22, 2007 12:34 AM (GMT)

There was something so provocative and powerful about a woman shooting a gun. She felt that when she was shooting off the artillery that people stopped, stared, and admire her. Hell, they could have been, and if they were it was probably on because she was their leader. Maybe it would remind them how lucky they were to have her! Some of those fledglings were so damn inconsiderate she had half a notion to hunt them instead! Of course, going into a murderous rage upon her own kind would undoubtedly not make her a welcomed leader anymore. Control, it was one of the things she happily thrived upon and if it meant shooting off a hoity toity piece of equipment, then so be it. Gripping the trigger, firing at will, and just pulling the clip into a movie target made things even better. It was a sure sign of confidence when one could lay their eyes on a woman who knew not only what a gun was, was not afraid to shoot it off, but could reload and just stand there like they knew what they were doing, that all eyes were on them. Many found it almost threatening. When a woman could kill without mercy, it seemed heartless. With the vampires, it just seemed normal, or at least as close to normal as they could get with their undead souls roaming about the place. Would Hades ever call upon them with the cut of a string from the Fates?

Hearing. It was a powerful sense for a vampire. It was almost like a human form of echolocation. Standing there, not even trying, it was easy to pinpoint the shuffle of spiders’ legs across the spindles of a web, vampires moving through the antechambers, vampires speaking to another, and the way the dust fell with subtlety amongst the skulls. For some reason, she had this cocky attitude that her hearing was far more superior then others. It just might have been, but Kella liked to believe it was one of the things that made her a leader, setting her about from her own coven. But as each bullet hit some form of a target, the boom reverberated through her eardrums so it lasted seconds after. Taking out the clip, throwing it on the cart in front of her, she began to put more ammunition into it. There was a reason to why this calmed her, relaxed her, but she couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps it was just that sense of control again, even though it would have been just as easy to go out and take down an innocent. That was power – to cause somebody to fear terror or to have them steady as the current of a stream. It was people around people that made them either paranoid or calm. It was fact.

Miss. Diesel might not have been able to hear the approaching footsteps of one of her servants, but she could definitely feel her presence amongst the ruins. Even though her nose wasn’t as strong as sight or hearing, she could still smell her as she walked, just Vorena’s scent moving up into the slots in her nose. There seemed to be sense of what could have been pain or boredom or possibly both. So many tried to scare the coven leader even though they knew it was almost near impossible. Her training had allowed her for this, but it never got old. It was a sick, twisted pleasure really, making her feel good on the inside. But there were some that just over did. That resulted in a good ass whooping in which they most likely deserved. Already, a smirk upturned upon her lips as the clip was returned into the gun and pulled off a couple more shots into whatever was there anymore. Guns could be a turn on, but she was vampire, anything could pretty much do that.

Listening to the whisper, her eyes only moved in her sockets to appear at her servant. It seemed she was always doing that, but the vampire didn’t oppose it at all. Everybody had his or her quirks. Moving the gun back down to her sides, her irises flickered to what might be called a friend or sorts. At the moment, those celery green irises were closer to a brown, the side effects of her feeding. ”Hello, Vorena, my pet. Often did Kella throw out names like that to any member of the coven, or even complete strangers she was about to drain. Without looking back at the target, the gun was raised and shot off again, striking the parchment in the chest, close to her intended target. ”Any news for me?” News a lot of the time meant gossip, but that worked out nicely as well.

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 22, 2007 05:26 PM (GMT)

Vorena took the other woman, and the leader of her coven not jumping or displaying any signs of shock at her appearance as evidence that she had sensed her approaching. Kella always did seem to have the uncanny knack of predicting correctly whenever there was a presence other than her own in the room. It was a valuable skill, especially considering the catacombs were always so dark. Yes, they'd managed to wire electricity down here, but most of the vampires were stubborn down to the last fanged tooth, and most declared that they still 'hated the light'. She did herself, so she didn't blame them. Even though through the process of evolution, she'd made herself adverse to the effects of pure sunlight on her skin, she still tingled uncomfortably whenever she stood in it for a prolonged period of time. Curse her ancestors. Perhaps it was an advantage that global warming was becoming more and more apparent in the Earth's climate and weather conditions; they didn't really have that many overly sunny months anymore.

She found herself insanely glad over this, and there was nothing more she hated than a bright summer's day, the son glaring down upon you as if you should feel privileged that it had graced you with it's rays. Vorena found it a bother when the sky was cloudless and defiantly blue, there was just more...open space. She had learned to survive in a confined space within the burlesque with around three hundred other fussy girls, and so personal space really wasn't that much of an issue to her anymore. When you were all jostling for mirror space in preparation for some show or another, wearing next to nothing, you tended to abandon all bids for personal space and some time to yourself. You basically lived on top of each other, and you learned to live with other people's faults, and try to correct your own. Not that Vorena ever tried this, of course. Too much of a stubborn bitch in general to alter her ways for another person.

"Hello, Vorena, my pet." Her leader said, and Vorena hissed. She was in no mood for such niceties when it had been Kella herself who had probably issued the order to prevent her from feeding. Of course, no-one else dared to tell her what to do...she'd simply make a very rude hand gesture and tell them where to go. Another pet hate of hers was people attempting to order her around. She was a big girl , and had been able to take care of herself from an early age. She did not need people to give her advice, she was old enough also to make and learn from her mistakes - no matter how grave they turned out to be. "Any news for me?”, Kella asked, and Vorena shrugged, casting her mind back to the past couple of days for goings on within the coven, racking her brains for anything that may have been of any importance to the woman standing before her. She walked around to the front of her leader, drawing her ravaged bottom lip into her mouth and suckling angrily on the blood flow, eyes almost black. Slightly ridiculous, suckling your own blood, but she found the taste rather comforting and familiar.

"No news as such, however, some of us are restless."

She was, of course, referring to herself within this statement. Restless was an understatement; crawling up the walls and constantly irritable would have sufficed, being driven downright crazy even closer to the mark. Vorena released her bottom lip from between her teeth and raised her hand, pressing a dark, painted talon to her lips and pressing in slightly, encouraging the blood flow.

"Why, Ma'am, am I not allowed to hunt tonight?" Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. She would call her ma'am, she held the woman in great respect. It always amused her when people didn't honour her with the respect she'd earned, as she'd climbed the ranks. They more often or not got a good punishment. Of course, if you were to punish Vorena, she'd probably smile serenely all the way through, either in defiance or genuine pleasure. Ah, masochism was a beautiful thing, so it was.

Kella Credence Diesel - July 22, 2007 06:24 PM (GMT)

This hiss that had come from her companion was ultimately desirable. Anytime she was able to get a vampire, any vampire really, was linked to the whole power thing. It was satisfactory. Turning away, something she would never do with more than one person in the room for that made her a more vulnerable target, she began to disassemble the gun. The thrill had left her muscles. Now, had this target been a moving human, the adrenaline would come and stay like a flood. There was nothing more fun then hunting a live object of equal size. Human was fun for sport, but there was something just as pleasing as taking down a full-grown bear or lycan. The reason she could possibly see a vampire enjoying the hunt of an animal, not human, was because of the sheer size and difficulty it took to bringing them down. With an elk or a bear, there was some form of complexity where as a human a vampire could purely snap their neck and they’re gone. They were weak, humans, but they had the cunning for the urge to survive. An animal wasn’t weak, but they couldn’t think as a human. It was always a puzzling question to ask: why wolves and bats? Why not cats or horses? What was so menacing about a human that was part wolf or bat?

After the gun was in its proper pieces, she walked over to the other side of the room to take a cloth, Q-tips, and cleaner to start scrubbing down the pieces. One thing she hated most was a dirty gun. It was a reckless. The thing could misfire when one needed it most and while your messing around with it, somebody else has put a bullet right between your eyes. It’s not that it’s going to do much unless made of UV rays, but they were a bitch to get out of the skull. Tipping the container, Kella placed the end of a Q-tip into the solution and she watched the tip swell up. Taking the barrel, she began to go in circular motions making sure to get all the little crevices. Never was she so meticulous except when it came to weapons. Every weapon that she ever used, in training or just hunting, got cleaned thoroughly and always put back in their proper places. It was a calming experience really. Depending on the solution that she was using, it gave her a nice little high. Sniffing cleaner, what a rebel.

No news. That was good. It left her less to worry about, not that she took to worrying about much anymore – just food, sex, and taking down the enemy, whoever they happened to be that week. Some were restless? They better be. She could even hear them in the background whining, growling, and showing their true vampiric side. She had refused a large number of them to eat. This could be considered a bitchy move, but it was a cleansing process for her. It was a test of strength – who had the strength to not kill each other for blood? Some couldn’t eat for twenty-four hours, others a couple of days, and a few a week. They needed to learn control and how to obey their leader. But this was a smart move on her part because when they could eat; they would crazy in that homicidal way. Her little demons would leave the darkness of the catacombs to kill, to kill many, to kill menacingly. It was to show the world that it wasn’t safe. It made it much more fun to hunt when nobody wanted to go anywhere anymore which meant kidnapping and much more bad things going on. Many couldn’t understand why she could feast, while half their coven could feast, but the ones she didn’t make stay away from blood were strong and killed many already. Some would even go and attack the werewolves for food. This was what she wanted, to tear them apart from the inside out.

Ma’am. That was one thing she also liked about Vorena, the sign of respect. It felt good to hold such power! A cruel smiled played over her lips as she continued to clean, but turned to face her servant. It was a simple question that could have had an easy answer, but even the one in her head was connected by embedded tissue to the next problem. A great deal of her coven didn’t bother asking why, just took it and dealt with it. It was pleasant to be asked every now and then. When it came to every damn day about everything Miss Diesel was doing it just got freaking annoying. ”It will make you stronger.” It was said so matter of factly that it should have been the first answer that popped into V’s mind. It was the best answer she had. She didn’t have to like her leader’s counter, but it was something she could deal with. It would ‘make her stronger.’

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 22, 2007 07:09 PM (GMT)

Vorena resisted the urge to grind her teeth together irritably when Kella began to clean her guns. She was always a perfectionist when it came to the hygiene status of the inanimate objects. Sometimes, it made the other vampires get pretty pissy when she continued to clean her precious guns and blatantly ignore their presence. Of course, none of them dared to say it to Kella's face, for fear of death. Oh, for a minute there you were fooled into believing that vampires look after their own kind? Some of them, yes, and this included Vorena, but that didn't mean she wouldn't gladly take one of them out if it was better for her coven. Her sense of loyalty was a little blurred like that. Even as a child, she'd watched her sister get bullied, not really attempting to do something about it. V firmly believed in standing up for yourself and what you believed in, and if her sister Gaia was too weak to do this, then more fool her. If she wished to spend the rest of her life as a doormat then she should just carry right on. Vorena had voiced all of these particularly indifferent and vindictive comments to her parents calmly, causing their concern for their slightly unhinged daughter to deepen. When they had repeatedly threatened to send her to the 'mental hospital', she had laughed, and asked them to think of an explanation to reel off to the healers about why their precious daughter climbed the walls at night. Silly bitch, her mother was.

”It will make you stronger.”

The older woman said, and Vorena nodded. She could have guessed, and had predicted that this was the cause for their fasting. Why? Surely, becoming stronger could be a good thing, and when you starved them for so long, the vampires staged revolt at the end of their fast and called for a feast. A feast of human weaklings, and the savage pursuit and kill of werewolves. However, strengthening a vampire's ability to go without blood for a while also led to the possibility of a revolt. Starving them made them angry and feral like in their desperation for the dark liquid that represented immortality for them. The price they paid for their revolt? Rejection from the ranks. Vorena had no desire to revolt against her coven, for they had taken her in when no-one else had, trained her up and fed her when she had been too weak to hunt for herself. Locked in this macabre tale of hers was a gruesome sort of affection, and the only type of love she had ever known. She liked the way they marched through the night, silent, implacable and generally impassive. She reveled in the way the owls screeched in warning, or maybe recognition. They recognised their brethren who hunted alongside them nocturnally. Smart creatures, were owls.

"With all due respect, Ma'am, is that completely wise?"

Yes...with all due respect. She had to add that bit, otherwise she feared she may have been sporting a rather fetching cap in her ass by now. Or between the eyes. She was often rather quiet around the other vampires, only voicing her opinions when she felt particularly passionate about something, and she hoped that this added to her allure; her mysterious exterior. Vorena viewed herself as someone mentally uneasy but erotic, the kind of person who both attracted and repelled someone at the same time. Indeed, she believed vampires in general to be highly sexually charged people, not finding it at all difficult to become aroused. Kella should know this...when Vorena herself was feeling particularly daring, she could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife. It had often made the other coven members uneasy, but Vorena really couldn't give a shit. She was her own person, and she'd do whatever the hell she wanted. Damn the rest of the outsiders who attempted to decipher her vida loca. It was a strange relationship they shared, but embedded in the lusting of the flesh was a respect, and a fear. Vampires did not generally fear much, but she did fear this woman on occasion. It was a natural reaction, when Kella suddenly appeared in front of her, mouth bloodied and rage dancing in the embers of her eyes.

She semi-danced across the room, although deprived of blood, not lacking in energy. A cruel smile twisted over her bloodied and mangled lips as she asked, "How long for me?". Hopefully, she didn't need to be made much stronger, but then she acknowledged that everyone had something they needed to improve on. Even as she stood here, though, the withdrawal symptoms seemed to be lessening, but perhaps this was due to the company of another person, someone to distract her.

Kella Credence Diesel - July 22, 2007 11:32 PM (GMT)

Give a vampire a weapon, they’d throw it off to the side or pawn it off later to fight with their own hands, but give a human a weapon, they’d use it until death. Perhaps it was because a vampire could not die, treasured the strength that seeped from their hands, or just because they enjoyed torturing the human with fear. A human, with the instinct to survive, would do anything it seemed necessary. They would bribe, get angry, scream, and kill just so their worthless soul could stay hidden in their husk. A vampire laughed at Death since He had so little opportunities to strike them down. There was nothing she laughed to do more than look Death straight in the eye and say ‘kiss this’. A human was not as methodical unless they had a disorder. Everybody anywhere in the world had the capability to murder, but those that were strong didn’t even think of it, couldn’t go through with it, and all of this was due to the people around them. When one was a friend that partied too much with their drinking and drug addiction, that person became more open to doing drugs. One might say yes, the other might say no – yes from the people that had no structure and no from the ones that knew the consequences, not because they wanted to be ‘safe’. There were certain beliefs one didn’t cross.

‘Make you stronger.’ That was such a cliché in actuality; they were already some of the stronger beings out there in the world. Why in the realms of Hell would they need to be stronger? Until somebody of importance asked her that question, it was her decision to make. If there was another leader, he or she could have just tossed them a bunch of grenades and say ‘go destroy’, but Kella was not that leader and did what she thought was the best for her coven. Hers, nobody else’s. Sure, she tried to do some things that were good for the members, but the vampire leader was looking at a bigger picture – what would it take to make the vampires as strong as Meutrier? to take down the wolves? strong enough to survive all of eternity? They were all fundamental questions that stormed through her head everyday. ‘Believe in Death, he believes in you.’ It was written in French above her door. It was something she looked at everyday. Why that statement? Because it ‘made her stronger’, more belief in herself with what was going on, even though she was full of herself enough. There was also an all-seeing eye at the entrance of the Catacombs, her symbol to let her people know that she was always watching.

Wise? Contradiction. It wasn’t that she believed Vorena would be planning a mutiny anytime soon, but it was a natural feeling whenever anybody asked why. Paranoia came with the territory of that non-paying job. Sporadically it was good, it caused her to make plans and enforce more ‘safety’, but it was a constant nagging fear where if she even thought about not thinking about fear it would just make things worse. The whole due respect was just a security issue, just so she wouldn’t snap at them, but this was Vorena, somebody she had been through a lot with. ”I’m not a psychic, Vorena, contrary to some of the rumors.” That was all she had to say to the matter because it was likely if she continued to speak, things would be revealed that might make her people think Kella was an unfit leader. No, she did not want to dig her own grave.

Even thought the Queen of her Damned had the unlimited supply of humans out and about, not having to worry about somebody finding out if she ate, there were many times where she would dig into her flesh with her fangs. Sometimes it was her thighs, other times her wrists, but pretty much any place she could reach. It might have been an unhealthy thing because it was not powered by thirst. It gave her a feeling of being alive, ‘feeling’ being keyword since she was far from life. A Rolodex of information just swept through her head as she remembered the date she would allow her friend to eat. Setting down the cleaned barrel, closing the liquid, she folded her hands together in front of her as if she was about ready to pray. ”Very soon.” When something got in her head, it stuck with it. She wasn’t going to allow her to feed for another couple of days, but this seemed more fun for her. ”Follow me.” Grabbing the coat Kella had fed in, she threw it back on. ”We’re going out.” She was going to take her out into the world of humans, coursing with fresh crimson blood. Bring on the night.

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 22, 2007 11:58 PM (GMT)

Her hesitation to answer her made Vorena wonder whether she'd lowered herself in Kella's estimations, or put herself in potential danger; Kella was, after all, the one with the gun in her hands. Not that a gun could generally do much, unless loaded with those precious little UV bullets that would hurt much worse than any bitch could. Of course, Vorena had been shot at before. Scared, pointless baby shots that scared humans fired in desperation. It normally just incensed or terrified them further when she laughed and began to attempt to pull the bullet out. Like a thicker skin, her predecessors had ensured that this generation of vampires were protected from the curse of the stake through the heart...and the only way to kill them currently would be decapitation. Vorena doubted it would take long for them to become immune to this...after all, weren't they already the undead anyway? She suspected that a vampire could probably go on living without it's head, but eventually die of starvation...something like a cockroach. She shivered involuntarily; cockroaches were vile animals, and to liken herself and her kind to one was truly revolting.

”I’m not a psychic, Vorena, contrary to some of the rumors.”

Vorena actually smiled here, revealing pointy, sharp teeth that had previously pierced her plump lips. (OOC: Overuse of the wonderful letter known as 'p' there) Yes, some people did presuppose that Kella was psychic, due to the fact she always seemed to know everything that was going on, and everybody else's business. Vorena wondered why they hadn't put two and two together, and pieced together the substantial evidence that it was indeed herself who was carting the information back to their precious Kella. A silly move, to betray yourself to her little snitch really; who cared if she was teachers pet? It was better than living as lowlife vampire scum, though they were all scum, when Vorena thought about it. Just scum that got lucky with extremely useful defensive powers (i.e. three inch fangs and inhuman strength...general ability to snap you in two and the like...).

”Very soon.” Kella said, and she felt the tangible relief wash over her like some refreshing cool water on a sweltering summer day. However, she became increasingly confused when Kella picked up her coat and said, "Follow me. We’re going out.” Out to where? She padded along behind her uncertainly, attempting to argue with her as they went, though admittedly it was a little half-hearted.

"I look like a common prostitute!" Vorena was grinning however, and she decided briefly that she didn't give a shit about what people may think of her. Although not in the utmost position of power within the coven, people had learned to watch her; mostly because of her feisty temper and her inability to back down to anyone. It was a trait that had also been evident in her mother, and it was just V's luck that the one thing she did inherit had had a number of non desirable implications over the years. She snatched at a random cloak lying around in the artillery room, finding it extremely amusing that when she slipped it on, the split in the thigh was quite clearly pronounced, blatantly putting the small amount of leg, and the thigh-high boots she wore on show to the world. Oh well, perhaps it would make someone stupid enough to approach her, she had enough fight in her tonight to comfortably take down a fully grown man.

"Ah, well. Life's a party..." She shrugged and made her way to the exit of the artillery room, and a hand protruded out of the darkness to stroke her bare legs. She turned to the man currently groping her from the shadows and smiled serenely, leaning down to take his face in her hand, and moving towards him to kiss him. If he had been expecting a passionate snogging match, however, he was severely disappointed, as she merely sank her teeth into the protruding bottom lip, smiling as he howled in pain and the blood squirted everywhere to dash the walls with what she considered to be a piquant charm. Her sense of decoration was a little warped like that. She stood up and regarded him writhing on the floor in pain, attempting to fight against his desire to take his own blood back inside of him, but stem the blood flow at the same time. Of course, she fought the same inner battle each time she got hurt, but it was something she had triumphed in, over the years; learning to control herself. She kicked him squarely in the ribs, making sure to tread on the man's outstretched fingers with her heels as she went.

Kella Credence Diesel - July 23, 2007 10:38 PM (GMT)

There were vampires out there that deserved the title ‘vampire’ while some of them didn’t even deserve to be associated with them. Those that deserved the title were the ones that could kill without a moments notice, that could take matters into their own hands, and could piss off the right people. Those that didn’t deserve anything to do with being a vampire were those that feasted upon the animals or already dead, who did not kill for pleasure, for survival, and anybody who teamed up with those damned wolves. If she had it her way, every single one of those that didn’t deserve it would be cut down, their blood spilt out for their kind to never be seen again. However, if this were to really happen, a majority of the vampires would be deceased and turning humans with the right attitude did not seem like a path that should have been taken. Unfortunately, she was not always right about something, even though she wouldn’t readily admit it, so thinking was required for the job. A level headedness was needed so they didn’t all end up slain in their beds the next day.

The first statement that reached her ears from Vorena caused Kella to stop in her tracks, smile, and turn to look at her. ”And when was this ever a bad thing?” Leave it to the servant to worry about that, but then again she did choose to dress that way. Prostitution. That word brought back quite a few bits of memories of that life in the hall. Barely anything there for clothes, coy looks, provocative gestures, leering men, and demanding bosses; all things that she had grown to enjoy and crave, much like blood. She had once been a timid thing whose thoughts of working in such a profession would make her wretch. Somewhere though, inside her, she had to be all right with it since she did it after all. There were days in the present in which she dreamed of a life of what she had – nights dancing, entertaining, performing sexual favors, and being free from life. In a way, that place had been a coven itself where their guests could enjoy all of the pleasures of life – touch, sight, sound, taste, and hearing. No more were there ‘classy’ institutes such as that.

Life was no party, but her lips stayed shut. Let Vorena believe that disillusion. Maybe it was real, but to the coven leader, she did not see it that way. Life was about survival, if one enjoyed the fruits that the planet and society had to offer, all the more better. While her coven was feeding, killing, training, or lurking, she was planning for the future, trying to keep them alive, and did a little sneaking around on her own. But her vision of partying was different, more than likely. While the statement was just a metaphor, Kella envisioned long nights of sex, alcohol consumption, drugs, sweat, blood, and tears, the whole bang. To many that was a life, but for her, it had never been as such. It might have once been her job, but she actually did it for somebody else. There was compassion hidden in her stone of a heart, but those she had loved had passed on and not left nothing but marble.

She didn’t stop when V took the time to take down the male who had unthinkably felt her up. Her friend had been asking for it, as well as the male. Both came together so they had to of accepted it. Her strides remained long and powerful as she made her way up the steps into the house that hid the entrance, and out the front door into the setting sun. It was always dark down there so it was intricate to tell what time it really was on the outside without a watch. There was no watch on her wrist. When Vorena returned, Kella looked at her as if slightly annoyed. ”Feel better?” Her jeans felt itchy against her skin as she said this, almost as if they were trying to tell her to she her skin. The coat was snug around her, but in a good kind, moving with the motions. Without waiting for a response, she turned down the sidewalk, eyeing the passersby to see what the one that was not allowed to feast would do. It was a cruel game she was playing of cat and mouse; not only was Vorena the cat, she was the mouse for Kella. How did that feel?

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 23, 2007 11:12 PM (GMT)

It showed just how much time Kella and Vorena had spent in each other's presence together at the burlesque when she went on to say, "And when was this ever a bad thing?". Of course, she'd spent nights wearing far littler than this...most of the costumes she'd had to wear had been little more than scraps of material she'd adorned her body with. Considering her previous place of work had been the burlesque hall, V had always thought there was a distinct air of classiness to the place. There was nothing cheap about the hall, and even though the girls had worn next to nothing, they all carried themselves with a supreme pride and confidence, one that suggested they were all completely comfortable with parading around half-naked. Indeed, most of them were, but on occasion you could always pick out the newcomer. The one standing at the back, attempting to take cover behind the other girls, or someone who'd draped themselves in a corner, studying and mirroring the actions of her fellow dancers. It was not surprising after all those years spent in the spot light of wearing next-to-nothing, she sometimes go the intense urge to just...strip off.

The dancing had been Vorena's favourite part to the hall, always being a particularly active person who's energy levels knew no bounds. You could starve her for four days, deprive her of fresh air and sleep and still upon release she'd bounce around like some sort of hyperactive puppy. Sometimes, this annoyed people, but she had found that her continuous refusal to let tiredness overcome here had proved well worth her while. She had known of some people to fall asleep on the job; that would never do! What if she was taken by one of the rival covens or packs in her sleep. The Sanguinaire's would attempt to interrogate her on the location of the Meutrier coven, and the werewolf packs would possibly whore her out and then viciously kill her. None of these options sounded particularly appealing to Vorena...and so she made sure she was always well stocked on the energy front.

When they had reached the street, the first thing that Vorena did was to scan the surrounding area. She'd seen it a thousand times before...and the general acts that took place in the vacinity of the catacombs' entrance. Acts of lust, pain and hunger everywhere she looked. She was not searching for something to join in on, more scoping the area for some sort of enemy, currently unknown to them both. If there was one thing V had learned, it was to always be careful, on your guard. Another thing was to never let anyone in; made it much easier to sever ties, and fuck with people within your coven...avoided complications, right? In actual fact, she'd pretty much like to seduce and snare someone from the neighboring covens or packs, just to say she had and laugh in their face when it was all over. And because, naturally, all sex was good. Her tone was that of slight annoyance when she said, "Feel better?”

Vorena shrugged, maybe deciding to show her resilience could last a little longer. She was now surrounded by people feeding, and unsuspecting passers-by. She could take anyone and bleed them dry...anyone at all. So why didn't she? To prove a point, of course. She tugged on Kella's hand ruefully, pulling her along to walk a little further. She needed to feel fresh air, inhale dark night into her deprived lungs. "Am I to believe, Miss. Diesel, that the sole purpose you brought me up here was to let me feed?" She once again swept her gaze over her surroundings...more than slightly humoured by the looks people were throwing her away. Slag, slut, whore... followed her, but after years of using these words as her job title, she wondered how people still thought it affected her. Silly bitches....

Kella Credence Diesel - July 24, 2007 07:36 PM (GMT)

The night air felt majestic, not in a way of feeling since she couldn’t feel much of anything, but it was just wonderful to get out of those dark shadows of the catacombs and to really breathe, feel open again. For the last week or so, she had been feeling so stuffy, that the dust would only fall upon her, but then again it was partially her own fault for making the sanctuary feel as such since it was she who had made half of her people stay down there, to not enter into the night and feed. It was getting to the point where she was almost ready to say ‘screw it,’ but that would make her feel less powerful. Besides, just the bitch in her would make them play it out. So many had been begging to go out, which was really starting to get on her nerves to a point of slashing them down where they stood. Only some of them made it sound whiny, which was what really pissed her off, not the ones that intentionally curious about why she was doing it. If they would just grow up a little bit, then she would be fine, but a few of them clung onto the hope that they’d be human again. No, never, get over it – that was her initial feel on things.

If she hadn’t of just fed an hour or so ago, she would have been ready to pounce at all those feeble humans that passed by. Couples, friends, rogue rangers, all in different forms of clothing and mind. Lovers were holding each other as they walked, friends were giggling in clusters close enough to feel secure, but far enough apart to not feel out of it, and the loners just walked, looking like they had nothing on their mind or listening to music. Vampires were not as different as humans; a group was good, a group was bad, some were timid, some where outgoing, but the only real difference that separated them from one another was, besides the fact of drinking blood to survive, they could do anything they wanted without worrying about death. Kella could still remember what it felt like to worry about death and people, but not anymore and not ever. Humans also worked a lot. Vampires just stole and murdered for the bounty, simple as that. They didn’t really need money, but enjoyed it all the same.

Vorena had taken her hand, taking her out into the street, which she followed willingly. Quite the majority of women would have cared if another woman did that to them, but being the leader, as well as a friend, she knew what V was like. Besides, it didn’t bother her at all. Any contact with her own kind was worth it really. Grinning, her shoulders merely moved up and down in a shrug. ”If I say yes, does that mean you’ve made me cave?” A joke of course, something she wasn’t prone to doing all that much, but just enough to make it normal. Yes, she would let her friend feed tonight, but not yet because Kella was going to be selfish. She wanted the companionship; even if it was just somebody to walk with or talk with, get her mind off business. A night out with somebody, anybody really, gave her an open feeling, rejuvenating her body and spirit to be the leader that she was. Believe it or not, she had been, at one point, fun to be around, but things changed didn’t they?

Walking a little farther down the street, she could sense everybody around, hear what people were talking about blocks away, what people were ordering for dinner, and just the life of the city. France offered so many different dialects; it was hard to keep up – French, English, and Cockney from England, Irish, what seemed like Russian, and German. Being as old as she was, which wasn’t that old, she was fluent in French, German, and even Spanish. Sometimes it just came naturally, without thought, just like listening in to other people. Tonight though, she pushed as much of it out of the way as she could, but taking pleasure in listening to the juicier conversations. An assortment were funny to listen too and who knew, maybe it’d come in handy some day? Looking around, Kella’s eyes landed on a bar. ”Want to get a drink,” she asked nodding to the bar. Vorena could have assumed blood, so she thought she’d make it a little more clear for her. ”And before you even ask – yes, it is just to get you drunk,” she said looking at her friend.

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 24, 2007 08:21 PM (GMT)

It was really quite strange that Kella didn't wrench her hand away in disgust, which may have been the possible outcome had any other member of the coven attempted such a bold gesture with their leader. Of course, Vorena had the advantage of many years of friendship, and she distinctly wondered then, if she would ever be able to kill Kella. Not that Miss. Diesel wouldn't put up a hell of a good fight, of course, but if the entire coven decided to turn against her for some unknown reason, then she didn't really stand much of a chance. Would she, Vorena, be amongst the numbers who would attempt to bring their beloved leader to her knees? Would she drink from her blood as the others did? It was an incredibly uncomfortable thought to have wedged itself in between V's bran cells, and she was distinctly aware of every nerve cell in her body right then, responding to the very real feeling of a hand in her own. The waves of nausea that had threatened to wash over her seemed to calm slightly and ebb away from her person...though the question hovered on her lips. Of course, Vorena hoped that Kella would never betray them. It was slightly heartless of her to even think this possible of her friend, but the lust for blood did terrible things to people; the lust for power had even worse consequences.

"If I say yes, does that mean you’ve made me cave?” The other woman said, and Vorena's sick look was replaced with a small smile, threatening to tug at the corners of her lips. It was rare that Kella made jokes when they were surrounded by other people in the coven, and she found it slightly amusing that she found herself stifling laughter sometimes, upon remembering some situation or another. They had always been the two to get themselves into some pretty deep shit, and it had usually ended up with a nasty bite or two. Slightly amusing really, as no-one could quite pin-point why half the men (and indeed, women), looked so hungry leaving their 'quarters' within the Burlesque. The naive bastards didn't realise that it was not lust that they were pining after...or rather a lust of a different kind. In all fairness, considering the pretty shady past Vorena had sketched in for them, they had been trusting enough, or at least they had put on a pretty good front if they didn't trust her.

"Absolutely...not that I'm complaining."This time, Vorena's answering smile was not meant to be hidden, for it was silently funny to her that they'd progressed so much in a relatively short amount of time...at least compared to how many years they had roamed this earth as soulless creatures so far. It was actually rather fun, being reckless and dangerous, and knowing there were no consequences. Aside from death; and even that was pretty hard to wangle out of a vampire. There was a gaggle of different conversations reaching her ears through the windows of various restaurants and shop windows, and V silently wished she could speak more than French and German. Her German was half-decent, and she could decipher some of what these foreigners were saying, but her French skills far exceeded it, considering she'd been born in England. It made sense, that always being a sharp girl had led her to picking up the tongue of the country she called home as her own now, and she found herself sometimes thinking in the foreign language, finding it prettier and more...flowing than brutal, staccato English.

"Want to get a drink,"Kella asked, and her gaze flickered onto the bar, which looked close to deserted, but somehow still pulsed with that energy and general lowsiness that screamed 'Drinking Establishment'. However, what drink exactly they were going there to sup was still a mystery to little old Vorena. "And before you even ask – yes, it is just to get you drunk,” she clarified, and although she felt momentary disappointment she wrenched open one of the double doors, beckoning for Kella to go first

"You know, I'm slightly worried as to why you want to get me drunk. Am I entirely safe when I'm on my own with you and inebriated?" She was being cocky, as per usual, but not entirely lying. Of course, you couldn't expect two vampiresses to be completely prudish and innocent could you; alcohol usually permitted looser tongues, hands, and general speaking of your thoughts. That was why Vorena didn't like to consume to much when in the presence of new-comers. She would make her decision as to how much she would drink this evening after scoping the place again; sussing out how many people she had to put herself at risk to. She liked risk, it was what made life interesting, but she didn't fancy defending herself tonight. Perhaps a good hard vodka shot would sort that out. Vorena made her way inside, hanging up her cloak on the somewhat out of place coat hanger at the door.

Kella Credence Diesel - July 25, 2007 06:25 PM (GMT)

Life threw out curveballs, that much was certain, but would it be cruel enough to make Kella her own downfall? As long as she had been the leader, she had tried to make the best personal choice that had been prompted to her that would present any harm to her coven. Who to sleep with? Who to trust, even though she seemed not to trust anybody, accept a select few so close to her? What to say? It felt like a lot of times she never had a personal life between keeping up with all the Meutrier, attacking those bastard wolves, and planning battles. Of course, it was a lot of exaggeration, sometimes. She went out and drank, quite a few times by herself, which didn’t seem healthy, she had sex, occasionally, but what would she do to make up for those missed moments that would piss everybody off? Would she be able to fight her people, or let them mull her? Would the cold bitch have the heart to fight them? Some of them she was close too and hoped that when they day came when she fucked up, those truly loyal would stand by her, realizing that people had made mistakes and she had been a good leader. Of course, anybody that fought with her would be in danger. Would she stop them then?

The only response that was given was a toothy grin but the good pretty kind, not the bad crazy carnie kind. Complain? Vorena? That seemed highly unlikely since rarely did she hear her friend bitch and moan. Either she accepted it and lived r complained out of hearing distance of her leader since she knew how much Kella disliked to hear people complain on and on, day in and day out. Either was nice for the head Meutrier, like a little vacation…well, not really. Vorena was quite the character, seemingly much different to rest of the coven. There were some days she was downright envious of her companion. Not only was she blatantly hot, which both women knew, as well as everyone else, but she seemed so carefree and rebellious. Perhaps that was they way people acted when they didn’t have heavy responsibilities or everybody else’s problems on their shoulders. Of course, she would never fully understand what it took to do V’s job. That description made Miss Diesel sound like a shrink. What a hell of a shrink she was if it would pretty much end in violence. Still, envy would show its green head and make her want to punish Vorena, but she could never bring herself to do it. Never would she consider it a character flaw, just strength. Her vision of weakness and strength was well warped.

Thi establishment wasn’t anything to boast about, but it served the good, kick-in-the ass drinks – no strawberry margs (no matter how delicious), no white wine only a bottle or two of red, no cosmopolitans, just beers and all that good jazz. It didn’t look upscale because it wasn’t, but it didn’t need to be. Walking through the door opened for her, she took a deep breath of musty ash air. Unbuttoning the trench by sliding through her index finger, she pulled it off to reveal the tight, off-the-shoulder black sweater she had been wearing whose sleeves only met her elbows. It didn’t show enough cleavage, but enough of her black bra straps. ”You shouldn’t be worried. If I really, really wanted to take advantage of you, I could have done it back in the dark,” she said matter of factly, but in a jesting way followed by a wink. Kella still wasn’t sure if she should have been giving in and returning Vorena’s flirting or telling her off. Really though, what could it kill? She could only imagine what both of them could be like powered by alcohol. Would she even say no? ”As for safe, pretty much never. Who knows what crazy thing I might do?” Really, it wasn’t so much Kella she’d have to worry about, unless after a lust, blood or otherwise; but the people that would come after her. She wouldn’t have to worry though; few people did come after her, which almost made her feel unimportant in her own little world.

Following her vixen of a friend to the coat rack, she put her own down on it as well. Ember eyes looked at Vorena again it seemed like being dressed, as a ‘common prostitute’ didn’t bother her anymore. The men seemed thrilled though. It was as if they hadn’t seen a woman before, but probably not as good looking as either of them. Walking over to the bar to take a seat, she knew there were a vampire or two around, but no cluster of them. These two didn’t seem a threat, just there to drink. Ordering a beer, she looked at the TV, a wrestling match did just fine for her. Some of the males, even females, were decent prospects when it came to looks, but a majority of them were fat, unruly men on bikes. No amount of alcohol could get her with them. Kella would rather drink them dead. With the glass of on-tap beer, she downed a good third of it. Consuming alcohol was one of the best things she could do. ”Kind of like old memories, isn’t it?” she asked her Burlesque buddy, nodding her head to the pigs that looked a lot like the guys from back in the day. It was rare to get decent meat in that meat market, but when the good looking ones came around, the girls went crazy. Vorena got them half of the time and other half went o Kella. Just good old call girls getting paid, or abused, for looking hot in nothing.

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 25, 2007 08:29 PM (GMT)

She received, much to her surprise, a rather genuine grin from her friend. It was strange to still call her a friend, after spending so many years as her macabre sort of understudy. Oh yes, Kella certainly was the prima-donna of this morbid stage, her accolades dead bodies instead of roses. But without Vorena, who effectively pulled the heavy, velvet chords to release and draw the curtains, Kella would never step out onto the floodlit stage her for her grand finale. Therefore, without Vorena there for all those years, to carry tit bits of gossip as her little 'pet', back and forth, where would Kella be now? Would she still managed to have uphold her leaders crown? V doubted it. She'd reported back to her before on traitorous plans to murder her friend. It had taken a lot for Vorena herself not to give them a good pasting upon receiving such gossip, but she had to respectively wait for her leader's permission. Yes, she valued their friendship, and hopefully the effortless respect, but she also valued her facial features; she wasn't going to risk friendship nor face because of her stupidity and rash decision to act upon what she'd heard immediately.

The establishment she found herself in was not the prettiest sight to behold, but it held all they needed for tonight; a bar, limitless supply of alcohol, and of course, the sweaty bald bikers who just got her going. Not. Still, after however many alcoholic units they were destined to consume, upon leaving, the place would probably look like a million dollars. At least if you compared them to a drunk V. She had this ability to go to the toilets every couple of hours (Yes her bladder was unusually small), and come back looking twice as mussed as before. This was normally down to the fact she had to decorate the walls with someone or other, and there were many different pleasant implications to that notion, but also a rather horrid undertone. Decorating the walls with the pieces of someone of course, was never pretty, not for them. For V it was like some sick work of art, present and famous only in the warped art gallery of her mind. She smiled to herself at the thought, reaching over the bar for the bottle of vodka, and pouring it into her glass, mesmerised by the way the liquid was crystal and clear. Upon pouring it, she generally made as much of a fuss of it as possible, elevating and then dropping the bottle again to watch the strength of the flow differentiate. Simple things amuse simple minds....Besides, she liked toying with things, be it her prey, men or liquid substances.

"You shouldn’t be worried. If I really, really wanted to take advantage of you, I could have done it back in the dark," Kella proceeded to say, and Vorena wasn't actually sure whether to be pleased or disappointed. She dipped her finger into the liquid that she'd poured into her tumbler and swirled it around absent-mindedly, bringing the finger out of the liquid and to her lips, not wincing as some would at the strength of it. Still, if she wanted to keep some of her senses, then she needed to mix it with something, and so she helped herself to some coca cola off the bar, not fussing around with this as she found it nowhere near as fascinating or pretty. She had never been a beer girl...too manly for her, and she just didn't like the bitterness to it. Didn't mean she had to stick to what she liked to call the 'pansy' spirits, i.e; wine, sherry, cocktails, nless you counted alcohol and drugs, a lethal cocktail. "The dark is my friend..."She purred."Besides, when has everyone else watching ever stopped you? Never cried rape before have I?" She said with a wink as she knocked her drink back, smiling as the inebriating liquid caressed the back of her throat, leaving a warm tingling in its wake.

"Pretty much me, I know the crazy things you can do, which is precisely why I asked that question." Yeah, the nights at the Burlesque had often been fueled by a lot of alcohol, no overstatement necessary. Sometimes it helped, other times it made it worse; drunk punters, as they so often were, were no problem. Completely pissed assholes were different stories altogether. "Kind of like old memories, isn’t it?” She said, and her words prompted her to look around and drink in the company that they found themselves in. Yes, it was, the drunkards and the ugly, the unloved. The people who had no homes, or what they did have consisted of whores for wives and yobs as children. There was the odd vampire here tonight (She could sense them, as most could), but the vibes they were giving off were not those of aggression, more a friendly truce. Friendly, well, as friendly as could be assumed for someone with three inch fangs and a bad-ass attitude. "Only difference is, we're completely overdressed. Shame really. Nice top by the way..." She added absently, it was rare that she dished out compliments to other people, simply because she didn't make it her business to make other people feel good about themselves. She much preferred cutting them down with a blunt and untactful remark. There was something immensely satisfying about blowing out someone else's candle to make yours burn brighter.

The mood of the pub was good natured, if a little grubby, and she felt herself relaxing into the slow rock melody straining from the old-fashioned juke box in the corner. It was nice to let her hair down for a little while, and not have to worry about her blasted reputation or the way she looked. She'd seen Kella in the morning, with half of her make-up smeared up her face and naked, and vice versa. She really had no shame when it came to the woman before her. One couldn't really be fussy with sleeping arrangements when you ended up falling into bed with random punters that had no significance to you, and who's names you wouldn't remember in the morning. She was glad, back in the burlesque, that she found it impossible to conceive. Of course, she hadn't known this back then...she'd just thought she'd been infertile, or incredibly lucky. Contraception wasn't a favourite of the punters, and so she'd made sure she had been on the pill, her periods still came...it just, never happened. She told herself she didn't want children, that they were snotty-nosed brats and she'd sooner shoot herself in the head than surrender to pushing one out of her perfect body. Really she was more than a little insecure; she didn't actually mind kids, it was just she was afraid of what she could do to them. As much as she didn't like to regret things, she didn't want to pass on the burden of being a vampire to another little life-form. It was child cruelty of the first degree. Scolding herself for the deepness of her thoughts, she downed her drink and poured another one, forcing her features into a smile, that did look practiced, she had to admit. Perhaps this relaxing milarke wasn't all that good - it was making her think.

Kella Credence Diesel - July 26, 2007 12:05 AM (GMT)

The sad thing was that she was pretty certain that Vorena had kind of pushed her into this limelight of leader. If she wasn’t there, pulling some of the heavy work, then she might not have been the leader. Then again, it wasn’t all about being ‘out there’ to make people look like back in the day, this position was more up right, less on her back, and held inner details that were attached to so many different things. One just couldn’t be in that kind of position of leadership to only do things that made everybody else loose to only make the leader profit. It was a hardcore act of power to surpass her own dreams and wills for other people. She highly doubted that her friend would ever be able to handle that. Kella could see her up there in the spotlight only looking for a good, or bad, boy to fuck, her own personal bartender, and not really working for the coven. It was harsh for her to think that, but it was the way Vorena was sometimes. Yes, she could do selfless things, but she always seemed to work for her own personal benefit, to just raise herself up a little bit. Really, that hadn’t been much of the current leader’s life that was selfish – the only reason she worked at that damn hall was to help her mother and brother, even though along the way she became the whore that she really loved.

Beer. It was all she could really handle anymore. Everything used to enter her body; absinthe, vodka, rum, and anything else that wasn’t supposed to be sold to minors. Getting flat out drunk had always ended badly. Drinking hadn’t really presented itself until the Burlesque hall when men bought you drinks and they insisted that you drink them, over and over, and then things just became blurry to the point of waking up with somebody you weren’t all too sure of, or if they had even paid. The latter was a bitch, but there were many mornings when she woke up that didn’t make her mad at the client just at herself. If she had been truly smart, Kella would have spit the drink back out somewhere, but she just took it like a ‘man’. Besides the feminine body, she was more man then woman it seemed like, but that was hopefully an exaggeration. It had really taken a toll on her, even immortal and wild, for sleeping with so many guys that were old enough to be her father, had he lived a long life. Psychologically, she was afraid of alcohol, even though nobody but a shrink, or an extremely smart person, would be able to see this, anybody except the owner of the unconditional fear. A few people looked at them when the word ‘rape’ was mention, it wasn’t something to throw around lightly these days, but it didn’t bother her. ”Ok, so you have a point.” Yes, she’d give her that much anyway.

”I believe to not be completely overdressed for these guys is to be naked, but then again you wouldn’t have a problem with that would you?” she asked in a teasing manner. She knew her friend would gladly shed her clothes, even for free. That also made her envious. Yes, she would do the same, but it always took coaxing – envious of her free will really. Looking down at the top, she laughed and shrugged, as if it were really nothing. ”I believe it was yours at some point, but it covered too much.” While Vorena went for flashing off her body by skin, Kella took to showing off hers with form fitting clothes. It worked the same way, more so for V, but she didn’t want that much attention anymore like that. It was extremely odd to find that her friend had given her a compliment. It was a great honor! She knew damn well that her friend didn’t just dish them out. Rather it was to just boost her ego or was really being sincere, she still appreciated it. It was really nice to be noticed every once in awhile; especially by a person she’d known for a long time. They didn’t have any boundaries, all of them broken by the hall, and that was just fine. She didn’t have any other relationship like the bond between herself and Vorena.

The best thing about being a vampire and working as a prostitute was that she couldn’t get pregnant with the whole sterile thing. She could have sex as much as her body would allow and nothing, no little rat running around the place. Just the thought of having a kid was one of disgust. She hadn’t been truly fond of kids, but it was easy to tolerate them. Having one of her own? That would have been royally fucked up. The thought of her body all warped and going through that kind of pain would be unbearable! It might of offended people, but she’d down right admit that if some how she ever became pregnant, she’d have an abortion. If those were illegal, she’d find a back ally doctor with a rusty knife. There was no way Kella had the patience to bring up a child. Plus, being pregnant ruined a hooker’s job. Who wanted to have sex with a woman who had a kid in her? Hell, it might have even been theirs if they were regular clients. Nobody wanted an illegitimate child running about the place. Just the word pregnant would get a gal almost kicked out on the streets from the stupid owner. Thank their ancestors for being sterile, it was one of the best perks in their bad ass lives.

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 29, 2007 04:00 PM (GMT)

"Ok, so you have a point.” Kella said, and Vorena wasn't sure whether she choked a little on her drink. It was extremely unusual for the woman to admit that someone else had been right about something, or perhaps it was because Kella had spent so many years taking the lead...she didn't frequently have to admit things willingly. She didn't have to answer to anyone, and Vorena admired, in one way, how Kella had managed to rise so she made herself her own boss. She was, in essence, a free woman. However, even Vorena could see how making yourself the leader of a coven of vampires could prove to be a pretty tough reputation to live up to. For one, she had to make sure everyone was in line, and in their proper place; this included telling them when and where to hunt, as much as blood spill was relished, a constant battle was not required or desired. Secondly, she had to defend her honour and that of her fellow brethren. She needed to be logical and practical, precise in the way she handled her leadership and her killings. When faced with a dilemma, she would have to act quickly and effectively. It was a lot of things to think about, especially for your average vampire who also had to see him or herself right. V also suspected that she was up against a fair bit of sexism, because after all, who ever heard of a mere woman leading a coven.

Vorena hated this attitude, and she screwed over a couple of men who had attempted to preach to her about the importance of a woman's place in society, which was supposedly spreading her legs for her husband and becoming a baby making machine. It was slightly hypocritical for her to be a slight feminist, when she had taken a job position which in itself was so demeaning to women that it was quite terrifying. Was she a feminist? No, but there's something inside every woman that screams every time something potentially unfair takes place, especially when the person pioneering the campaign to assure everyone (and their own ego), that men are indeed the stronger member of the species. V could accept that there were certain fields within which a man would excel, further even than a woman could, but if it were not for a woman...who would carry and give birth to the sons of warriors, teach them values and morals, nurture them into young adults to command the future. A man had a different sort of tenderness, and views of right and wrong. It was the women who tended the tribe of humans within the coven, and V strongly believed that should a women want to take charge, she should bloody well do so. Kella hadn't let them down yet, and she felt perfectly safe within the coven with her friend as their leader.

”I believe to not be completely overdressed for these guys is to be naked, but then again you wouldn’t have a problem with that would you?” And Vorena smirked. No, she wasn't insecure when it came down to her body. She'd spent enough years selling it off to the highest bidder, and she worked damned hard to keep herself in shape. Hours of combat training that Kella had seen her perform. Her face was always impassive, but in actual fact, her limbs screamed out for mercy, her muscles spasmed under her aggressive attack on them, but V had acknowledged and accepted years ago the saying: "No pain, no gain". She really hadn't changed that much from her years within the burlesque hall, and so, she had no reason to fear she shouldn't be displaying so much flesh so readily. Fuck the rest of the world; she'd dress (Or not dress, in this case) however the hell the wanted. "Too right. I work too damned hard to hide myself away. Kicked the living shit out of Nathaniel the other day...worked wonders for my PMT" She said with a smirk and a wink. Poor Nathaniel was the owner of the small gym located a couple of minutes away from the catacombs. A vampire himself, he seemed to anticipate her violent assaults, but she'd been pretty wound up. V took another sip of her drink and giggled at Kella's next comment.

"Give me a couple of hours and drinks, and I'll probably end up adorning this fine bar relatively easily..." She grimaced almost guiltily but a few people at the neighbouring tables looked up hopefully. Honestly...some men were pitiful, but she did suppose they made a pretty striking pair sat at the bar, both relatively attractive women, decorating the bar with ease. "Of course, you'll be sure to fend people off, while I sit there in my drunken stupor." The alcohol was loosening her muscles, and she crossed one leg over the other, leaning an elbow on the table, fisting her hand and resting her chin on it. The look on her face was mildly amused as she wondered whether Kella would take her seriously. Honestly, she wasn't that much of a bad drunk; in fact, she just found everything hilarious. Truth was, when she got so off her face she could barely see, the people around her were also too drunk to notice her giggling at herself frequently. Everything just became ten times funnier. Yay for alcohol! "Unless you're intending to join me upon the bar..." She proceeded to say, giving a 'who knows?' kind of shrug and taking some more of her drink.

Kella Credence Diesel - July 29, 2007 06:27 PM (GMT)

Yes, she’d noticed the little choke of awe that had accompanied her statement, but all she did to recognize this was give a small smirk for her own benefit and ignored rest of it. Caving wasn’t an easy thing to get the leader to do, but there were some things that weren’t worth fighting over. There were things of war, killing, and all the linguistics of being a vampire leader, let alone a woman leader. God forbid that a woman might do something better than a man. While some women stoke the egos of the men around them, Kella wasn’t afraid to crush them like a little bug. Imagine being a female leader where half of the people in the coven were men. There were avid jokes of when she was being a bitch of her ‘time of the month’. That did them in worse since she usually kicked their ass afterwards. Then again there had always been something about her that had allowed her to relate towards men more so then women. Yes, she got along great with Vorena, but that hall had been a catfight every day and night and she just didn’t want any part of it. Give the girl a couple of guys and she’d get along fine, without promises of sex.

Women, even to the one hundred percent female sitting there drinking her beer, were a confusing gender. Some of them were anyway. Who knew what they meant behind their words or actions? They could be so nice and considerate to each other, but as soon as their backs were turned the claws came out. There wasn’t much surprise to see that she had difficulty trusting women when her thinking revolved around that basis. It was true that her mind was unloaded onto Vorena, but there were tidbits that she didn’t mind sharing with her servant, her friend. Of course, it was just hard for Kella to trust all together anymore. It had nothing to do with the person she was talking too, but with the things in her past that just didn’t make her feel confidant enough to tell anybody anything anymore. The Burlesque hall had been a cruel place to her before V came along. The other girls, if they found out anything about her would spin it the other way and make her suffer. She got them back by stealing their clients or telling lies to their boss. The nights she got really angry, one ended up dead.

With another drink, her head popped back into the future. Remembering wasn’t exactly a fun thing for her since so little good happened throughout her life. It was a wonder she hadn’t wound up severely depressed. Catching what her friend was saying, she smiled and shook her head. ”Oh, poor Nathaniel,” she said almost half sympathetically and the other half sarcastically. That vampire could take a beating, but one from V? Oh, he’d end up crying himself to sleep! KC, a nickname from way back in the day, hadn’t seen him in awhile and was thinking about meeting up with him. He was a good fighter, gave her a run for her money since hand-to-hand wasn’t her best. Give her a sword and she’d be the last one standing amongst a hundred men. Hurting people physically, mentally, emotionally, or by any other means didn’t bother her at all. There were few moments you’d ever see her become maternal. The thought was almost creepy.

Finishing off the beer, she signaled to the bartender for another one. Being drunk wasn’t anything she had planned on tonight, but things happened and fate would do what it felt was right. Taking a sip from the fresh one, she toasted her friend. ”Of course I’d fight them off. Looks like a weak challenge,” she said looking at the men again. Getting laid was fun and all, but this was not the way to do it at all. Listening to the music in the background and the cracking sound that the billiards made in the corner, she almost felt overwhelmed, like Kella didn’t belong even though this was the setting that had made her a ‘woman’. The question made her face scrunch up in thought. ”We’ll see where the night takes me. Rather on top of the bar or on top of him.” A slender finger went off to one of the random guys that weren’t as big. ”The bar sounds like much more fun.”

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - July 29, 2007 07:12 PM (GMT)

Kella seemed to zone out for a period of time, but somehow sub-consciously managed to place her order for another drink and receive it without spilling over a prepared V. She wondered what she was thinking of, but knew better than to ask. Vorena herself was a very private person, and didn't appreciate people prying into her thoughts, unless she deemed them worthy enough to hear them. When all was said and done, she was promiscuous, cheeky and more than a little flirty, but that didn't mean she had to shoot her trap off constantly. There were days when she went without saying anything, when she was too tired to credit people with the sound of her voice. Conversation, as a youngster, had never been an easy feat for her. She had been surprisingly awkward as a child, and a little bit of a social outcast. With parents that never introduced her to social society, she grew up as a little rebel, and slightly disgusted by the other children's moronic behaviour. She was something of a snob from a young age, even she could see that. Where as other people's children generally liked to loll around in the dirt and mud, it disgusted V. She thought herself above it even at a young age, and right now, even at the ripe age of 101, she could still say she only liked the mess of blood.

The natural ebb and flow of conversation had been something that the Burlesque hall had taught her, amongst other skills. Indeed, it was talk the talk and walk the walk or face the consequence of going hungry. And so, she had developed an uneasy confidence, in herself, her abilities and her topical conversation. So, when greasy men and sometimes the odd attractive young gentleman (Yes, there was a certain...friendship between the girls and the clients) walked through the door, V smiled and took their coats and orders. When she returned, she sat with them, laughed and generally made it look as if she were enjoying herself, even though some nights she felt like screaming/biting/ravaging some girl who was being a complete bitch or idiot. And it worked, remarkably a new Vorena had been born; not one that felt degraded and depleted, but a new confidence and seduction. She was actually semi-thankful for her place in the hall.

”Of course I’d fight them off. Looks like a weak challenge,” Kella said, and Vorena had to acknowledge that she'd seen more activity amongst the dead. They all seemed to be lazy, non-descript slobs, who wasted their little wages away before they were even released. She felt a pang of pity for the wives who waited at home, then scolded herself. They chose to marry the losers, so why should she pit them? You can't save the world, Rena... She told herself sternly, and she had no intention of saving those women. If they were going to make something out of themselves, then they should have by now. Arsewipes, rolling over and shouting how high whenever their husbands shouted jump. Vorena would never let a man order her around, in fact, she found it damned right difficult taking orders from anybody. Perhaps she'd learned to be her own boss within the hall, rather than allow others to handle her money and...merchandise.

"We’ll see where the night takes me. Rather on top of the bar or on top of him. The bar sounds like much more fun.” She said and V laughed and downed the rest of her drink. She doubted either of them would much care after a couple of drinks, but it was still worth the humour of pretending that they actually had standards. They both knew that when sober, they did tend to standardise who they slept with, but once inebriated, V had to admit she'd woken up next to some coyote uglies..."I'm quite offended that you'd even consider them when I'm sat in front of you." She laughed and cast her gaze around the room and then back onto the bar. "Oh, I am so thinking one-two-stepping on that nice, shiny, slippery surface while slightly tipsy..."

Kella Credence Diesel - August 2, 2007 01:07 AM (GMT)

Doubt entered and exited through anybody’s mind during the day. Some more with kids, always doubting they were telling the truth, that the world would be kind to them, if the other kids would like them and treat them with respect, and anything else that could possibly haunt a parents’ day. There were others who doubted life itself; if it was truly real, not just a dream, or if it could ever get better or worse. Doubt was a real bitch, especially when it came towards leaders, especially of the female variety that ran a certain human-hunting coven. Kella Diesel spent many nights pacing her room doubting the decisions she had made in power. Too many wanted her to fail and too many wanted her to succeed. That kind of pressure made everything so much worse. Then that whole woman factor just doubled the pressure because a high population of the current vampires grew up in the times where women did nothing but pop out kids and cooked their meals. Men had trouble accepting it, but the occasional few were just fine with it. Gave them the feeling they could beat a woman easier in any sport or war. Women wanted her to succeed because it gave them a better status and confidence. She couldn’t please everybody anymore it seemed.

One of the high priorities of doubt was wondering if she was even good at her job. Few acknowledged it, not that she was out fishing for compliments, but it would have been nice just every once in a while to know that what she was doing wasn’t completely fucking up their powerful coven and that she was going in the right direction. Until that life raft came to save her in that drowning world, she would just pretty much have to wing it. Doubt always presented itself at the hall. God, it seemed like everything had been learnt in that damn seventh-ring of hell. Was she doing anything right back there? A good guess would have been yes since she remained there for such a long time, supporting her now deceased family, whom she missed dearly more and more it seemed. But Vorena, my God she knew how to work it. She was so much better at it then she was, but perhaps it was years of what seemed like worthless sacrifice now. No. She shouldn’t have thought that. Kella would do it all over again if it brought her family a little bit of happiness. Her family had meant the world to her, but now she had a new family and only had to whore herself out to war and killing and feeding. No tips with that gig.

”Don’t worry, V, if I don’t see any better prospects soon, you’ll be the one I’m taking home,” she said with a little chuckle at the end. Really? Had she just seen it? It wasn’t uncommon to hear such a thing when speaking around Vorena, but it just seemed so lame to say, like one of those corny pick up lines, which she had probably heard all of. One day that flirting would get her into trouble, but did that stop her? Not really no. When was trouble such a bad thing? Maybe later into the night a whole gaggle of fraternity boys would come waltzing in to get drunk? Odds were slim, but dreaming was always constituted as a good thing though. Looking at the bar, Kella smirked, running her hands along the framework. ”Slightly would be better. Less chance of falling off.” Sometimes the vampire leader could be such a klutz that it wasn’t even funny, well only to everybody else, but she had grown out of that phase. Working in high heels had made her pretty much less klutzy so she could get paid for the night. Nobody liked what looked of a complete drunk-off-her-ass hooker.

Taking another drink of the beer, listening to another crack at the pool table, a cruel smile played over her lips. Once a pool hustler, always a pool hustler. It had been a form of getting money and she had always been good at it, rather vampire skills or not. Sooner or later she was going to have to strut over there and play some of the guys for money. She’d win every time. Pool was just so tricky that it was fun. Plus, it was easy to distract the men when one bent over far enough so they could look at you like a piece of meat. Those were the good days for sure. That was one thing she loved about bars – a lot of men, a pool table, gambling, and down right fun without a whole lot frills. There was little needed to fully make Kella Diesel happy. Maybe if she was human, she’d be a little more normal about it all, but these were the waves of thrills she loved to ride. ”Any good?” she asked Vorena, nodding to the pool table. It had been some time since they had last played together. Was she shaky or was she as good as her? Depending on either account, they could really win an armload of money. That would show the men who was boss.

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 2, 2007 07:49 PM (GMT)

Vorena glanced around the small bar, the smoke rising in elegant spirals to the ceiling. She did enjoy smoking. It seemed such trivial things as cancer no longer worried her, in her weird walk of eternal life. Effectively, she was a dead woman walking...but did she care? The moment she brought that cigarette to her lips, the nicotine rush hit her like a sweet candy craving. She relished in the fact she could put all her stress away with one deep inhale. Loved it more when she could exhale all her troubling, weird and wonderful thoughts with her first exhale. Smoking to her had become more than a habit; it was a lifestyle. Besides, when she had been growing up, it had been unfashionable not to smoke. Even for women. This was before all the health risks had been brought up, and they knew that smoking had possible side effects on babies. Before even, they started putting those annoying messages on the cigarette packets Vorena bought now. Smoking Kills. Oh, yeah, then how come she was still living one hundred and frickin' one years old? And looking damned good for it too. Ah, the vodka was already beginning to have effect then, she thought as she giggled aloud, to herself and to anyone else who deigned to listen. Fuck them, she could laugh if she wanted too...as loud and as brash as she wanted. She'd stopped living her life by other people's rules a long time ago.

This did not make her reckless. When given an order by someone she respected, she followed it immediately. However, had someone taken over the coven who she believed to be a complete wanker, and who didn't deserve any of her respect, then she simply wouldn't give it to them. Especially if they didn't treat the coven right. Kella would know, that it wasn't unlike V to just up and leave. That was what she did, when things got tough. She up sticks and left. That was what she had done all those years ago, as a frightened teenager who's kid sister had just killed herself off. Vorena had felt oddly betrayed that her sister had committed suicide. Why should, V had thought to herself, she get the opportunity to depart from this life so far unmarked by the curse she bore. The vicar had recoiled, V remembered, when he pulled back the curtain of her sister's curly hair to reveal the bite marks. They couldn't step into the church, right? Oh that would have been hilarious! V's whole family would have gone up in smoke where they stood. Holy water had nothing on holy ground. Just being in a church made her skin crawl.

"Don’t worry, V, if I don’t see any better prospects soon, you’ll be the one I’m taking home,” Kella said and Vorena laughed and took a sip out of her drink again, casting another glance around the bar. God, she would have to resort to taking her clothes of to provide herself with some form of entertainment. Or go and find someone to shag in the toilets, either one. What? You thought she was a prude? Nopum, siree. Throw her a half decent male or female, and V was there. She couldn't be bothered to wait for Mr. Right. Even if he did suddenly materialise out of brutal reality, what was the point to their relationship. Infertile. The nine letter swear-word. Or a blessing, to V. As she'd mentioned before, she was still slightly uneasy when it came to children. There was no point craving them anyway, there was no distinct possibility. "Gee, thanks, Kella." She joked. "Way to make a girl feel special."

"Slightly would be better. Less chance of falling off.” She said, and Vorena regarded the bar with indifference. Being a vampire had a lot of perks, this included balance. Of course, tottering around and performing various and...interesting dances in dangerously high heels had also taught her balance. There was a lot of thinks she had to thank the Burlesque Hall for. Even now, she found herself for more comfortable in heels, rather than flats. People looked at her as if she were crazy when she turned out for the hunt in her little leather catsuit and four inch heels. She thought that if this was the night she would die, then you may as well go out in style. Just because she liked to maintain her style, even when killing, was that a crime? A lot of the girls referred to her as a 'slag', at which point she shook their hands for being so observant. While they were there, she told them, they might want to add conceited and a bitch to the list. Always interesting to see their reactions.

"Any good?” Kella asked, and V followed her gaze to the pool table. Kella was looking at it almost longingly, as if she hadn't played in a while. The other woman had always been ready to whoop V at it, but that didn't mean she'd lost her touch completely. "Kella, darling. I've spent most of my life in bars just like these...with you. How dare you forget I looked suckish compared to you, but still managed to beat half of these sorry punks!" She pretended to be shocked, cue hand to open mouth pose, and then poured herself another drink, blowing a weird kiss to the bartender, who flushed and went back to his work.

Kella Credence Diesel - August 4, 2007 07:53 PM (GMT)

Bars would always feel like a second home with crazy, mad drunks in leather and chest hair that weren’t afraid to grope you while…well…doing anything really instead of having brothers or sisters. Mom and Dad tended to be the bartender, or in some excellent rowdy conditions, the police. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to be able to figure out that this so called ‘family’ was so fucked up that it was normal in a way. The woman that sat there, leader of people, had been raised really in the Burlesque hall, which just felt like a much bigger branch version of a bar. That placed had raised the woman in front of everybody. Working on her family’s farm had proven to give her balance and compassion, and even though the boys back then didn’t like it, they always wanted to court her. She was almost too shy to agree, which seemed perfectly impossible to look at her now. Instead, her life had changed within those confinements. It was like being put in a pot to simmer with other things that would indeed change the ‘flavor’, or style. All that innocence that might have been there ebbed away from her spirit the minute she became a vampire and when she went to ‘work’ to become the bad ass, tough sometimes bitch that sat there taking chugs at the beer. Classy.

There were nights when leafing through the pages of the scrapbook labeled ‘memories’ happened. She had found herself believing that what life gave, it could take it away. All was fine and dandy when they moved across the big sea to Canada where for eighteen years all the members of the family worked on the farm. After her father died, the farmland had to be sold to pay off the bills and the debts. Both Diesel children went off their separate ways. Unfortunately, Michaelis, her brother, got hooked up into the mob. After Kella had been able to pay off all of the debt with the money from the Burlesque house, or ‘news agency’ job she claimed to have, Michaelis got in trouble with gambling so she gave as much money as she could to him. That, unfortunately, didn’t even put a dent in it as his body had been found in the ally, horrible things done to him. It was then that her Mama wanted to move back to France. With the string of deaths, it was no shock that Anne-Marie caught pneumonia and passed away. Maybe if life hadn’t conducted her to be alone, she wouldn’t have worked as a common prostitute, which wouldn’t have gotten her killed in an alley, and only to be brought back as a vampire. What life gave, it would take away.

As much imagination it took to pretend she had standards; Kella wasn’t like what she used to be when it came to the likes of men. Vorena was still pretty much the same woman as she was after leaving that house of whores, not bothering where or whom she got to sex up as long as it was somebody. It wasn’t like that for her anymore though. So much rid on what mistakes and accomplishments happened in her personal life anymore that it was a wonder the woman wasn’t a shut in. Sex wasn’t something that happened all too often anymore, always worrying about what could happen. There were the occasional escapades of maybe a human that got their blood drained after. It was never people from her own coven. Not only did it intimidate most of the men, but also finding the decent ones that only wanted a decent lay and nothing more the day after like the thrown or some personal favor from the Queen in which they got to screw. It was so much easier to find some helpless, innocent human boy that would fulfill her needs. From time to time they were big, butch guys, but a lot of times they were almost innocent, little college boys that probably wouldn’t have gotten laid in the first place. ”You know you like it V,” she easily retorted to her friend, a smile perking up her lips.

If pool was a sport, then she’d more than likely have the Most Valuable Player classification, but if sex were a sport, then Vorena would have the Most Valuable Position arrangement. There were little great things she felt confident about, but pool, swordsmanship, sex, and possibly being a leader were her best accomplishments in life. Her grin widened much like the Cheshire cat’s. ”I just wanted a little reminder of knowing I was better at you in something,” she corresponded with a wink. Those two had been quite the pool hustlers, but it wasn’t really difficult even if they did happen to suck at the game because they had two bodies that could distract any man. Throwing around sexual comments usually worked like a charm, especially when that was followed with a quick ‘grind’ with the cue stick. Once upon a time she used to be such a tease, but she left that up to the friend next to her. Tonight though, Kella was feeling in a tease mood. It happened every once in awhile when a good time was actually being experienced. That night was one of those nights.

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 6, 2007 12:55 PM (GMT)

Vorena hadn't really grown up in the bars, more the alleyways behind them, home to thousands of dysfunctional teens each year. It had been nice, when she was little, for her to just go be herself in an alleyway. Or that was what she told herself. In reality, she wasn't being herself at all, she was just avoiding the inevitable, facing up to her life at home, and the complete favoritism towards her younger sister, who was everything that she wasn't. Perfect. Perfection was something V had always striven to achieve, but always fell by the wayside, just short of the mark. It had been quite hard on her, growing up with a clearly more appreciated sister, but perhaps it had made her who she was today. She had got to a stage, as every teen does, when she thought she was far above being told what to do by people who assumed they were wiser and superior to her, just because they had the age advantage. And so, she had branched out, not afraid by the murky depths of rebellion, but enticed. It helped when the seduction of your soul to 'the dark side', was aided by around five bottles of vodka and a variety of spliffs and pills.

She'd never let herself get dependent on this life. She hated the fact that sometimes, she needed drugs to give her a boost. She'd kicked it for a while, but found that with it...the world seemed less...sharp. Like a blurry-edged photo that just has that, homely feel, even though it's not really worth anything in technique or skill. She was talentless, apart from being somewhat sexy, but connected. She regretted getting bitten, of course she did. When she was younger she'd attempt to bite herself, to stop herself going after other innocent people. However, with age came bitterness, resentment for the world she would never know; the ability to die. So she'd taken to throwing herself at people who were 'innocent', or innocent compared to her blood-fiendish ways, and made them pay, she took all her anger out on them. Angry at what? At her own stupidity, mostly. For believing him when he said he'd loved her, when all he was after was a shag and a meal - of the different sort to good, wholesome food. Oh, the joy.

Vorena was under no illusions that she was a slight whore. However, you sort of gave up on caring what people thought about you when you were one hundred odd years old. In fact...you stopped caring around fifty, especially when you knew you weren't going to change all that much, if you hadn't already. There were some vampires who aged prematurely, and V was just praying that she never did. Yes, she was vain and conceited, but what woman isn't? Show her a woman who's not worried about what they look like. And all that bollocks about dressing up for themselves? Oh yeah, you wear next to nothing because naturally, you've never seen your cleavage before...right? She had no issues admitting she was a slut, but the way some people talked, you'd swear she was at it every five minutes. At least when she found someone she liked, she stuck to them. Admittedly, none of them lasted very long, but that was because she had a short attention span. ”You know you like it V,” Her friend said and V pretended to smile, deliberately making it overly-wide and friendly. Yeah, she was winding her up, but it was all good fun. Kella should know her well enough by now to appreciate her slightly sarcastic nature on times.

"I just wanted a little reminder of knowing I was better at you in something,” She said, and V answered with, "You're better than me at most things. My version of getting my own way is taking my clothes off. Shyah, it works, but at least your dignity's still in tact if the thing in question doesn't go your way." V hated it when other people put themselves down, especially when comparing themselves to her. There really wasn't much to compare with, the ability to strip off in 0. something seconds wasn't really a talent, though it could be an advantage, if she thought about it enough. Kella needed to realise that she wasn't just...there. There were qualities that she possessed that V could only dream of. Yes, she was a good fighter, but Kella could probably knock her out, and her art of seduction was her forté, but if K tried enough, then she'd definitely win that one. V didn't really seduce, more...put her wares on display. Easy was the word she was looking for.

Kella Credence Diesel - August 6, 2007 08:04 PM (GMT)

There were hordes and hordes of vampires that craved the immortality that was brought with a vampire’s kiss, to be reborn into a world to never age, to be superior to all of those around. These beasts thrived on power and holding other people, as puppet’s in their hands, pulling their strings whenever they wanted them to jump. Somehow they got that twisted pleasure of just being much like a god, even Kella tended to feel that from time to time. Yet, at hand were droplets of bloodsuckers that felt remorse for being able to extend their teeth out to dig them into the flesh of an innocent. Depression would sporadically flood through the leader which resulted in biting, a modern way of cutting. It was one reason she was overjoyed with swordsmanship, just the sharp, shiny blade that from time to time would cut into the owners body. There were scars. That was just how many times sadness overwhelmed her. Nobody might be able to tell it from looking at her, that she did what she did from the way feelings tangled her heart, but it happened all the same. It was highly possible that the coven would find it a weakness and that was not one more thing she needed pressing her down.

Memories of the past that welded their way onto her skin were not located along her arms, but along the insides of her bronzed thighs. That never happened when on duty as a hooker due to the fact it aimed at disgust. Apparently scars down there, or anywhere really, tended to repulse the men. It was after the days of whoring it that fangs pierced the flesh or the cold touch of a blade would prick its way around. Not many scars, but it didn’t mean they hadn’t been there like leaves falling down to the ground in the autumn. Just because the leaves weren’t on the trees anymore didn’t mean that they hadn’t been there. The feeling that she was in control of her life was what this was supposed to accomplish, but many a time Kella savored in the pulsating blood that would escape, enticing her to feed. Would it be possible if she cut herself and sucked the blood from the husk if she die? Or would the substantial energy from the sweet plasma of life keep her alive by regenerating blood? Really, it was not a theory that she deemed to be tested, especially on herself no matter how high the depression.

Few really realized the downside of vampirism with their minds washed with the craving of immortality, the alluring sides of the darkness, blood, and other members that you were bonded with via two fangs in your mouth, and that wealth came with every member. Wealth, in deed, came with the coven, but it didn’t make them millionaires to the point where they could were Armani everywhere. Yes, some of the vampires had quite a sweet tooth for fancy clothes, but they had the money beforehand to buy it. Rarely in life did Kella even have ten dollars to her name only because it was being sent back home, but when nobody else was left to provide for, the money just kept piling up. A good percent of the Meutrier account had once upon a time been her money. She didn’t know what to do with it since owning things wasn’t exactly something she had been caught up with. Splurging on jewelry or fancy clothes wasn’t worth it. She enjoyed diving into the pleasures and senses she had, but throwing around money to look better really wasn’t one of them. Common sense still webbed through her mind from time to time.

It seemed that avidly she was putting herself down, but not of her own accord. It was just something she did subconsciously. Living amongst packs of pretty girls could do that to somebody. The way Vorena had spoke to her almost made her feel badly. Okay, she did a little bit. ”Oh, come on, V. You’re great at a lot of things, besides taking your clothes off. If it wasn’t for the stuff you did for me in the coven, I’m certain there’d have been a mutiny already.” So it wasn’t the best example, but for once somebody was putting her up on the pedestal, that she could accomplish and do things. Crowds of vampires wanted her to fail, but there was V, putting faith in her. ”You live while I’m just going through the motions of what should be a good leader. I’m not saying I’m a bad leader, but I don’t get to live. Too much pressure of screwing up.” The conversation had taken a weird twist, but Kella knew what it was like of just needing somebody there to listen, even if it was what might be absurd ramblings. Some how it would always make a person feel better much like a heavy rock being lifted from their shoulders. If those two couldn’t listen to the other, then who else were they going to confide in?

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 6, 2007 10:54 PM (GMT)

Vorena had always liked the fair share of attention, and as a child, she'd been slightly deprived of it. So, when she'd blossomed into a considerably svelte and sexy young woman, she'd milked it. She was well aware of the fact her actions could and did have disastrous side effects from time to time, but she was willing to take those on board. However, the attention that she craved was severely different from the attention she was given. It didn't occur to everyone else that she may have actually wanted someone to love her. Oh no, V was the cold hard bitch, who was always restless, and a whore. They assumed that because the Burlesque Hall was what she had known for a while, had been her life, that she didn't know what love was. In actual reality, she didn't. She had felt it briefly as a young girl, before the arrival of her sister, but it had been fleeting...like attempting to grasp water and feeling it slipping from your fingertips. She'd tried to get it back over the years, tried to apologise and repent for her sins, but nothing ever worked. She always felt like she was reaching for something, something just beyond her grasp. With just a little push, she could reach out and touch the object of her desires...curl her fist around it. Before she knew what was happening, someone would yank the rug out from underneath her, and she'd be sprawled on the floor; suddenly back to square one and twice as shaky for it.

It was disturbing, the amount of things that could pass through the human mind on your average day. Had there ever been a time when V contemplated suicide...yes. Wasn't there a time in everyone's life. The time when you wanted or rather needed to sink beneath the calm surface of your bath water, open your eyes and inhale the liquid substance. You could drown yourself...cleanse your very soul. When it all came down to it, it was having the guts to cut your head off, stab yourself in the heart or overdose, not the want of doing it. If you didn't go through with it, then you didn't want it enough. Perhaps she should have envied Gaia for having the confidence to go through with it. Such a large weight on such young shoulders. Disturbing really, for a fifteen year old V to look out of the attic window and see her sister sprawled on the ground floor below, blood seeping out of her pretty little head from the place she had landed on the upturned pitchfork, successfully cutting off blood supply to her brain. Sometimes she felt like crying at the unjustness of it all, thinking it should have been her who'd ended up dead. Gaia could have gone on living her fucking perfect life and her parents would have been rid of their problem. The bitterness of her thoughts was scaring her, and so she forced herself back to the present.

"Oh, come on, V. You’re great at a lot of things, besides taking your clothes off. If it wasn’t for the stuff you did for me in the coven, I’m certain there’d have been a mutiny already.” And there was a kind of...underlying sadness to her words that made Vorena stop in her actions of drawing her glass to her lips and pushing the spun sand back onto the bar top, turning to look at Kella properly, but not meeting her gaze. Listening was something, invading someone else's personal space/territory was quite another. Sure, she was comfortable being in an enclosed space with this woman, but she sounded like, although she wanted to talk this through...she similarly needed some space. She resisted the urge to dive at her from her place by the bar. It hurt V to see her friend look so...defeated all of a sudden. "Don't you get it? I'm nothing. I'm like a little tattler, I run home and tell tales to nothing. That isn't a quality, that's being in the right place at the right time." God, when she said it like that...it made her feel really depressed...she was really like some snotty nosed tell-tale, filled with juicy little fibs to take home to mommy.

"You live while I’m just going through the motions of what should be a good leader. I’m not saying I’m a bad leader, but I don’t get to live. Too much pressure of screwing up.” She said, and V was so filled with emotion, and some kind of sympathy for the woman, she lifted a hand to touch Kella's face, looking slightly solemn as she sat there at the bar, booted legs crossed over one another, face contorted with a variety of emotions. Pity wasn't here. Kella didn't want her pity, just her ears. She needed someone to listen. V smiled weakly before saying, "You been thinking about this a lot, huh sweetie?". It sounded like the woman had given what she was saying some thought, like it had been mulling on her mind for a while now. V didn't blame her...there had to be a lot of things going on in her head when you were a leader.

Kella Credence Diesel - August 7, 2007 01:32 AM (GMT)

Not once in the longer-than-normal span of life granted to her did she ever such think that her life was pathetic. Pathetic was somebody hiding in their room all day for fear that a piece of shrapnel from any passing aircraft might conk them out on the head even though it was just as equally possible as it striking down the house. The chances of either happening were far more far fetched then a child contracting multiple sclerosis which was only about one in a couple of hundred. Death would always taunt the world, that much was certain, but those that just ventured out into it got credit for being brave rather it was riding around in a car where at any moment somebody could strike into you or walking down the street where some drive by might occur to the point where your body was riddled with bullets. Anything was possible, the proof was in the pudding and vampires and lycanthropes a like were that so called pudding. They shouldn’t have existed, yet there they were reeking horror and spilling blood, at least the decent vampires and wolves, wherever they went. Who really knew what else was out there besides just them?

Pathetic, right – her life was not that. It might have been floundered with distress and sorrow, but really, whose life hasn’t experienced some sort of disaster? It wasn’t that it was unimportant because whenever anything happened to you personally, it meant the world. Death in the family be it a pet or mother, death of a friend, going bankrupt, and witnessing something nobody wanted were all things that could probably hurt anybody’s life. It was tragic that it happened, but it did no matter what we did or didn’t do. Speculating at your own life could really blow things out of proportion. This event might have happened years ago, you might still be as sad as if it had just happened, but nobody else is going to be able to feel your pain no matter how hard they try to understand. They might think you’re milking the sympathy, but who’s to tell anybody that what they’re feeling isn’t real? Kella had felt these horrors when her family died. BAM! Wiped off the face of the earth, the emotions still swarmed her to this day. She knew that Vorena had been through things like this too and what her friend felt was as real as the sun or the ground. Nobody could tell her differently, anybody that did would have a hit put on his or her head by the coven leader.

What her friend had hit her with just caused a shake in the head as if disagreeing to a point of fuming where steam would burrow out of crevices that nobody should see steam or smoke come from. People, including humans, vampires, and werewolves, still had trouble accepting the good qualities about themselves. It was a fact. Somebody could be the best at something and think all of the comments said about whatever they’ve done were fiction. It had to be some sort of chemical in the brain because even Kella felt this way from time to time. ”Vorena, you have no idea how much you really help me. You might think it’s nothing, but it is something. Half of those pricks I call my coven don’t do shit except manage to make my life more hectic, to see me fall on my nicely shaped ass.” A small smirk hit her lips, trying to lighten the mood. ”We’ve known each other awhile, but just the fact you do this will make me internally grateful. I owe you so much more.” In some way, she had managed it back to her like some how she wanted sympathy from this fact. It was upsetting to realize this after it was already said, but not wanting to contradict anything said, nothing got corrected. Besides, it wouldn’t make a difference.

There were numerous times a day when Vorena was feeling down that she wanted to perk up her friend, just make things better for her. But what could she do? If some how a way to bring back the dead were possible, it was certain she’d bring back her friend’s sister even if her own soul was sacrificed for it. Even one of the coldest of the clan was capable of love, even if she herself was not loved in return. That reached into the realms of true love. Not once through time had love smacked her back. She had simply let it go into the pool of never after that love would never come. It was many a thing that would only flood sorrow through her. Even if love presented itself, Kella wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do with it. Looking at the pretty lady with those boots and carefree attitude, glancing at her hand, bronzed shoulders moved up into a shrug. ”I’ve had a lot of time to brood.” No thinking was involved for this self-obsession. ”I’ve yet to come to terms with it even though I should be used to it now.”

Vorena Ariadne Delphinus - August 8, 2007 01:06 PM (GMT)

V had a slight feeling she might have aggravated Kella with her self criticism, but she was just being honest. If she thought about it, her combat was pretty good, and she was reasonably good with her knives, but give her a gun and she'd be hopeless. Vorena was pretty old-school like that, not really trusting the firearms all that much. There was always that perpetual fear that she'd bugger it up and end up shooting herself in the face. There were plenty of fears for Vorena to indulge herself in, one in particular being burnt alive, and drowned. Someone had attempted to do both of these things in her elongated life span, and she could tell they'd been pretty alarmed with the ferocity in which she'd fought back, when threatened with two of these possible outcomes. When she died, it wouldn't be through murder, assassination. She'd rather kill herself first. It wasn't that she feared death, she'd learned not to. Being a vampire had some advantages, one of these being the select ways in which they had to die. UV bullets were quite hard to come by, and expensive, and vampires had a chance of dodging them. As for decapitation, it was fruitless; any vampire with an ounce of sense would do all they could not to end up on the chopping block willingly.

"Vorena, you have no idea how much you really help me. You might think it’s nothing, but it is something. Half of those pricks I call my coven don’t do shit except manage to make my life more hectic, to see me fall on my nicely shaped ass.” V smiled a little, this was just like Kella, take something that could be an argument and twist it into vague amusement. Ah, bugger it, there really was no point in wallowing in self-pity, it just made things ridiculously depressing and difficult. What Kella said was true, there were some pricks in the coven who didn't appreciate the power and protection the coven issued them with when they acquired their position within the confines of the catacombs. Of course, some were offered more protection, namely the people in the higher ranks, but everyone was inevitably a...family. A 'caring' community within the underground. There was one thing you could count on, should you end up being killed off by a rival clan, and that was revenge. Being avenged, more so. Your coven's job was to avenge your dead soul, and bloody hell did they do it. There were often vast segments on 'their' news, bloody massacres of werewolves littered across the land, all clearly screaming MEUTRIER COVEN. Things like this made V proud. "Yeah, those pricks don't generally tend to last very long when you get wind of their...plans, though, do they?"

Of course they didn't. Kella had to act on it, and they were either severely disabled or dead by the time they'd go the message into their thick li

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