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Cronin O'Connell
[Location: The Ons/ Specifics: An Adjacent abandoned basement to one of the condemned building/ Status: Boys and their toys...]

The Irish blood sucker himself rose much earlier then your casual Nosferatu. Even as the dusk hit, those dark rings stirred. Pools of shimmering red would snap open in the utter darkness. The creature had long since been awake at this point. Cronin was dressed more casually then usual on this night. In not but gray Dickies, a black button up long sleeve dress shirt and tactical combat boots... This was a far cry from the gentlemen in black that had quarted a slayer and death to gain a valued prize. Not just the blood of a above average mortal, but a fledgling of unimaginable potential. That main of silver was pulled into a pony tail save a few unruly strands that curtained his ghost white visage. The Sire waited for his child to rise. As lazy as a newborn child could be, it wasn't too deep into the sun's departure that his lovely awoke. Despite the coffin lid blocking off the view of the marble skinned beauty in black miniskirt and high heels; Cronin knew her eyes had opened. Her consciousness had risen to the surface of the murky innards of her mental pool. Confusion. Hunger. Want. Confusion. It wasn't long before that already uncanny freshly imbued strength brushed her stone coffin lid open easily.

She rose like a lily in the night, tussled, dirty, blood covered, and beautiful.

"Welcome back... I trust you had a name?"

What you and I would consider a terrifying visage otherwise appeared to be the most entrancing thing imaginable to this freshly risen undead vixin. This was more so the infatuation that a fledgling will hold with their sire. It's hard to share the blood of something and not be drawn together. This goes twice as deeply for a strain of vampirism so pure and rich as this creatures. The pale beauty would respond in a detached voice. Distant. Hollow. Broken.

"Tiffany... Tiffany-"

"Tiff it is... forget the rest... your ties in life won't serve what you are now."

Even as she soaked in the words the new born was staring at the world her mortal eyes had never been capable of. Finite details, sharper scents, crisper sounds... Every single car in passing so many miles away was like a roaring distraction. The vibrations themselves were easy enough to pick out and distinguish from the mere foot steps of mortals.

"You're not a mortal anymore my dear Tiffy...A part of you knew that though right?"

As far as a slayer being turned vampire, this was something to be truly feared. Perhaps even lamented. Though certainly Cronin wasn't about to let things rest so easily.

"You did have friends who helped you with your work didn't you... Should we pay them a visit?"

A frown flashed over that countenance. The young girl couldn't have been past twenty two. She probably had deep dies with those who trained her. Those who armed her. Those her provided support when she otherwise couldn't go to anyone who a young person normally could. Surely there were plenty of little strings to be cut. She probably knew exactly why she'd been turned. The real problem was that she couldn't find her own will to fight the suggestion. Her blood was no longer her own. Her soul had been drained the night before. Her memories had been raided and she'd been forced to gaze upon a heart shattering seen of the life of a ******** Irish Blood Sucker. Not only had Cronin's memories served as a reminder of what he was capable of. It served as a object lesson to the former slayer.

"And if I turn on you?"

"I gave you this life my dear? Do you think I can't take it away?"

That shark toothed grin blossomed between the two. Cronin's expression that of pure joy in the notion that his fledgling was learning their relationship so quickly. Tiffany's smile was a nervous one that mimicked her sire out of fear. Did he smile at the thought of her growing up the way he imagined? Or the thought of not leaving a single drop this time? Either way, the sire and fledgling would set out into the slums hand in hand. Like a wise gray haired father and his young beautiful daughter.

Rat hunting for little slayer cronies as it were...

Also there was the matter of getting some fast food for the newly risen child of night. Cronin wasn't feeling peckish himself... This city would be painted red entirely within a few weeks for certain.
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Somewhere...

between the heroin, and the coke, and the weed, and the four locos, the nightmares, and irregular periods, Humio managed to pass all of her exams. Somewhere, she pulled all A's out of her a** and shot her GPA up to a 4.0. Made the Dean's list or whatever. Got an award. ******** a teacher here and there.

Now, wiping her nose of white powder and blood, the groggy college teen started her first day of winter break. A hip pair of teal Toms carried her little hipster a** across the streets, a** cheeks peeking under that damn short skirt of hers. Stopping people in their tracks. Making ******** wreck 'cause they were staring at her rump.

Whatever inexplicable force had driven her to the ONS two months ago, was driving her there again. The snow-capped grrl entered that cozy den of sin and debauchery, taking in the invigorating scent of sex, violence, and everything in between. Even with all her make up, the little panda-that-could looked pretty haggard. The war with finals had been a tough one, a series of battles fought with bribery-sex, all-nighters, Monster nitrous oxide energy drinks, and drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.

Humio had never made any real friends at this bar, but she kinda missed the folk here. Especially that stoic guy that looked like Vamp Hunter D and always wanted to devour her sugary, caramel body. It would be fun to sluttishly prance around here again, and see what the hell was 'Gucci' with all the peeps here. She seated herself at the bar counter, knowing full well that she wasn't old enough to drink, and, being cool, could not be bothered to give a ********.
Max
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If not just for a drink~

Seemed the super secret training had been stealing up most of a certain stark haired slayers time. Since his departure from the city of latent, a certain gentlemen in brown had been staying with a ghostly pale blue haired swordsmen. Said individual had not only provided food and lodging, but a adequate training partner for the Zonei to gain a boost to his own skills. Regardless of that fact, the daft ex-Shinigami was far more interested in dissecting the immortals spirit to see if Max would keep ticking during procedure... Also there was no booze. This combination and fascination with the morbid cutting and dissecting after training had slowly but surely worn down on the slayer. Thus, a certain six foot gentlemen in brown did eventually find himself strolling up to a familiar door. A familiar rune. That same draw. That same lack of interest in whoever might actually be inside, familiar or not. The entry would swing open casually for Max. The slayer himself would hone in those eerie piercing oculars on the only occupant in attendance for this evening. It was one of those horny youngsters who was always tail or booze chasing... or whatever it is those horny youngsters do these days? Get bit by vampires?... jerk off werewolves?... who ******** knows...

"Evening."

No more and no less was offered while the gentlemen in brown strolled around to the service side of the counter. A bottle of rum would be fetched and opened. And if the snow topped immortal was not interrupted from such, he could proceed to guzzle down the contents of the bottle selected. Training wasn't forsaken entirely. Far from it. It was merely put on hold for a drink. Or twelve...
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Skinny sliver of white drifting across a cappuccino-flavoured canvas; a raised eyebrow from Humio. It signaled interest, remembrance. And a lack of sleep. In fact, instead of looking cool like a character from a noir film, she looked every much the druggy she'd recently become, what with that twitching eyebrow. Tiny, delicate nerves gripped at the white of her eyes.

"Oh." The only comment she made of his passing - that brown-paper bag of smex. Humio was really into older men, and her panda-heightened olfactories could smell the immortality emanating from his pores. It smelled kinda like axe and latex.

Humio nodded at him and gave a hint of a smile. "what's good?" she replied to his salutation, tilting her soft, saccharine torso towards his at the bar. The ota-panda flicked her little black ear with a lithe finger. She smelled of cherries, marijuana, and red bull. All the pungencies of an overworked college student and all the sweetness of fresh jailbait, in one bestial package.

"Whacha drinkin'?" She scooted next to him, totally violating his personal space with her scent alone. Humio pulled back her shoulders and lowered her chest so that her laughable, hard-to-find cleavage would shine golden in the overhead light. There were pools of sweat there, as well, and they probably held more sugar than salt. "Rum, eh? So classy. I can dig me some rum right about now. I need to get a little loose right now."
BaconBunch's avatar

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♚ ♛ ♜ Jolene Ramo ♝ ♞ ♟

☢ ☠ - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☠ ☢
I'm toxic darling, don't tip me over. I might spill on your pretty face.
♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟


Jolene was back.

Yeah, she had been gone for a long time. And yeah, it was for a shitty reason, but it was a reason nonetheless. She hoped to be free of all of her stress this time, but she knew that it wasn't likely that something like that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Plus, she didn't look the best. Up her arms and legs there were scars and healed wounds, and her neck and chest was bruised slightly as if she was beaten. She had a few marks on the side of her neck, and a small cut on her lip that she bit on and caused a sting that squinted her eyes. Her notebook was particularly empty lately, as if she didn't have the will to write anymore.

Still, she made herself presentable. She was wearing a blue-and-white polka-dotted romper with a white strip dotted with red buttons down the middle and white strips around the edges, over white tights, with classic red pumps, a bow-double-ring, silver earrings, red lips and simple makeup.

She would walk into the bar and scan the area lightly before promptly sitting in the corner, alone, quietly and shyly. She didn't want to draw attention to herself. She was scared.

Jo was new and not-so-improved, and she wasn't going to make the same childish mistakes she had made before.


♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟
You wouldn't want acid all over your pretty face, now, would you?
Theme Song
Outfit
☢ ☠ - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☠ ☢



[[ long time no see... ]]
Max
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Far be it from Max to go rushing to anyone's side. Despite the fact that Jolene and her condition didn't escape those eerie hawk like oculars. Nor did the changes that had sadly befallen the panda girl. As an observer this was none of his concern or business though. Aint no heroes here. In stark contrast the scarred Zonei would merely find another bottle of rum and set it down in front of his new drinking buddy. With that, and a seat re-selected with utter indifference to proximity violations, the slayer would continue drinking. Realistically, after staying with Kiri for a month or so, there wasn't anything about imposing about this. Not that Max was interested in the slightest.

"Rum... I can't remember which me picked up a taste for this stuff..."

Cryptic. Vague. Down right strange, as far as statements go. Even so, a drunk immortal will say some real s**t from time to time. Nothing to be done about it. Nothing but more drinking.

[Poor post is late and poor. emotion_dealwithit ]
We Could Be Villains's avatar

Loyal Hoarder


                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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                              ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Errol Capland - Resident Bartender xxxxxxxxxxxx«
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                        ✖ Like the water when the sea got rough,
                        She was bored with the breeze, she was bored of her luck.
                        The winner and the loser told the fallen priest;
                        "That's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief"





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                                                  The skyline looked like diamonds. Not in the romantic sense, but in the desperate way one would see riches in the most derelict places. This particular city was a corpse; bloated and bruised and utterly empty of life. While some managed to pretend the wandering denizens were worth counting, Errol didn't bother. Maybe that's why she took a break from the bar, and went on a trip - a head clearing, heart string pulling sort of vacation few were really able to appreciate. Having only left a note in her stead, words scribbled on a trash order slip, the albino had vanished.

                                                  But tonight, with her face placed against the glass of her room's grimy window, Errol Capland dismissed thoughts on the location she was locked to. It was easy to swallow all the sorrow and pain because it was easy to forget why it mattered in the first place. After all, time healed all wounds, right?

                                                  Easing back from her perch in the window sill, the lanky youth moved towards the door and ducked out, her steps light on the old hardwood flooring. Descending the stairs two at a time, she landed at the bottom with a small thud, then continued shuffling steps towards her chosen battered bar stool behind the counter. Maybe today, someone would show up and take interest in the ancient establishment. Maybe there would be life breathed back into this corpse.

                                                  Or maybe she would do as she had done for a week now, and just sit quietly behind the bar with a cocktail in one hand and a magazine in the other.





                                                  --------- And holding everything he made her steal,
                                                  She said, "Leave me alone, but just d o n ' txl e a v exm e here, all right?"
Ruarc The White's avatar

Militant Initiate

Someone showed up.

Rurarc the magnificent and absolutely debonair had entered within from the frigid outskirts and dusted off his shoulders lightly with his hand. The man was an image in white. From tip of the toe to top of the head he was dressed in a snow shade and each layer was expertly primped and polished. Oddly enough as he entered the establishment he linked paths and eyes with a young woman, he scarred lips smiling to her.

"Evening to you Miss.."

HE said as as he immediately took off his hat, as only a true gentleman would. The white top hat he would set on a hook near the door along with his cane. Stepping within his booted feel made nary a sound. Small white particles like lazy fairies circled him weakly as he approached her his dark maroon eyes holding her as he approached.

"How do you do?"
We Could Be Villains's avatar

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                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╔══════════════╗
                              ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Errol Capland - Resident Bartender xxxxxxxxxxxx«
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                        ✖ Like the water when the sea got rough,
                        She was bored with the breeze, she was bored of her luck.
                        The winner and the loser told the fallen priest;
                        "That's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief"





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                                                  Errol had the sort of eyes people stopped and stared at. Not because they were attractive, or otherworldly, but because they were tinted in morbid shades of red. A scarlet mess, painted on her irises, like one of those mice found in laboratory cages. Those were what rose from her unapologetic political trash mag, and those were what cast a questionable glance at the door. Maybe it was the sort of person the man seemed to be that drew a quiet breath from Errol, or maybe it had something to do with the fact he shared a similar lack of color she did; all the same, by her expression, one could tell the girl was a bit shocked.

                                                  Still, keeping a relatively normal tone as she spoke, the Albino replied. “Evening. Can I get you anything?”

                                                  Even as the words left her, the stranger seemed to be making himself at home. Unbothered by the actions, Errol lowered her maroon hues back to her magazine and placed it on the otherwise barren counter top. “I suppose I’m doing alright. Slow night though.” Running a bubble gum tongue across her pale lips, she offered in addition, “But I’m sure things’ll pick up in a bit.” She had an accent but from where, it was hard to say. Decked in her simple cardigan and shorts, it might have seemed odd. The weather was certainly hectic, bitter cold at the very least, but with a fire roaring in the hearth, Errol seemed undeterred from her usual choice in garb.






                                                  --------- And holding everything he made her steal,
                                                  She said, "Leave me alone, but just d o n ' txl e a v exm e here, all right?"
Ruarc The White's avatar

Militant Initiate

She had to have been the most beautiful albino the man had ever laid his eyes upon.

His white locks where a mess some of the tendrils still carrying a bit of snow as he continued to make himself comfortable. Shrugging broad shoulders he lowered the white coat from himself and placed that on a hook now standing before her in a white shirt with white vest buttoned up, and a white bow tie. A deep dark scare split his eyes like a percentage sign across the bridge of his nose and added some color to his pale tone.

"Aye certainly it will, well if'n you know how to dance?"

He said his own accent was harsh and ancient. A dialect of English that the Scotts and the rogues of Ireland seemed to twist into something different. It was a mixture of things like the very cocktail she was enjoying. He nipped his index finger and peeled off the glove he wore slowly before pocketing it, he would do the same with its partner but without the use of his chompers. Finally entering he walked up to the bar at which she stood and smiled a warm smile. At this distance she could make out the dusty white aura that kept about him and the fact that he dimly glowed a white light.

"A pint would fine... and your name."
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◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ADON xVALxVEREAUX◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦
⋯⋯⋯
xThe b*****dx
⋯⋯⋯


                    The road to you is long

                                                  and I've been on it for a while...







                                  Adon didn't have a home, not really. There were places he slept of course, ate, brought women to for various purposes. A warm inviting sanctuary to call his own, however, no. Perhaps that's why he never simply left his bartending job at The One Night Stand. It stood out in no special way, no more so than the city it lay within, both were run down and dying a slow death. Each held a certain comfort for the young Vereaux. Surprising enough as it was, he took solace in the company of the individuals that frequented both. The city streets always welcomed one of his cut, someone to take advantage of the weaknesses that plagued most mortals, while the bar-goers constantly knocked the white-topped male down a peg or two. It was a nice balance that Adon could live with.

                                  So much to his surprise when one day he came to the bar and it had been locked up, a note from Errol left on the door as the only answer; and that left him suddenly thrust into limbo. The Vereaux found it hard to decide on what course of action to follow, would he leave the city as the owner did and chart an entirely new path, or stay the course and stubbornly wait out her return? What happened was neither, he left the mortal plane entirely, slipping back into the veil where time passed far differently. Too afraid perhaps to face the change that confronted him.

                                  Adon did return, not long after Errol; watching and waiting in anticipation. A lot had come to his mind on his life. A bit selfish as he always was, thinking solely of himself and his own problems. That was his place, self centered more so than most. Opening the door to the bar, the Fae was greeted with Errol and another patron, not one he'd seen before. He'd not to the owner briefly before making his way behind the counter and pulling his apron out from under it. Donning the black work attire over his matching turtleneck, he leaned against the wood and waited for Errol to finish serving the newcomer before taking the opportunity to talk her up. "It's good to see you again, Errol. Been rather dull around these parts without your smile to brighten it up." He still had those cheesy one liners, some things would never change no matter how much time went by. A drink, that's what he needed now, in addition to the company of his lovely boss. Hands going to work on making his cocktail, he'd continue catching up with her. "Personally, I'm quite thankful to have you back. This bar is one of the few worthwhile establishments in this city, and you're what helps it live up to that standard. Really, how were your travels?" Eyes of neon eyed were locked onto the albino, glass of brown liquor in hand. The other male seemed out of place for where this building could be found, but to each his own. Personally, just slightly disappointed that he didn't catch his Errol first off.



Place :The ONS - Bar Counter
Mood : //Shrug
With : Errol +1

тɧιs ιs ιғє.
ɪt's α тєst.
ɪt's α ɢαmє.
םιɗ yσυ ραss?
We Could Be Villains's avatar

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                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╔══════════════╗
                              ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Errol Capland - Resident Bartender xxxxxxxxxxxx«
                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╚══════════════╝



                        ✖ Like the water when the sea got rough,
                        She was bored with the breeze, she was bored of her luck.
                        The winner and the loser told the fallen priest;
                        "That's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief"





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                                                  Errol wasn’t much of a dancer, but his comment didn’t need reply, so he may never have known that by how she looked. Everyone had secrets, after all.

                                                  “A pint? Easy enough.” The alabaster woman turned briefly from the equally white stranger and snagged one of the draft mugs from the back counter. Letting the cold glass play in her nimble fingers, the girl held the vessel and pulled a lever protruding from the bar, which in turn offered a rich, foaming stream of dark draft. One of the few brews the woman was interested in was served here, and though she wasn’t a heavy beer drinker, others seemed to agree: the stuff was legit. A gold ticket product was generally considered hard to find, but One Night Stand had plenty to offer, even if the outer décor seemed to say otherwise. “And you can call me Errol. Otherwise, Miss or Ma’am work just fine.”

                                                  With that, Errol offered a smile in return, though her eyes traveled to Adon as he moseyed his way inside. Letting the cold from the elements hit her as he walked through, the Albino made room behind the counter for her coworker, then took a seat where she generally always sat. The Fae’s words were reassuring, but entirely too much for the somewhat shy female to take, and with a sigh, she waved her hand dismissively. “Couldn’t tell you much about it. My trip was quick. Too quick, if ya ask me. Coming back to snow isn’t something I’m keen to, ya know.” Retrieving her cocktail, she downed the remaining contents then shifted in her seat ever so slightly so Adon was in clear view.

                                                  “And you? Anything exciting happen in my absence?”








                                                  --------- And holding everything he made her steal,
                                                  She said, "Leave me alone, but just d o n ' txl e a v exm e here, all right?"
Mystical Villain's avatar

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◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ADON xVALxVEREAUX◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦
⋯⋯⋯
xThe b*****dx
⋯⋯⋯


                    The road to you is long

                                                  and I've been on it for a while...







                                  "I don't mind the cold too much, suppose I'm used to it. A nicer local is always preferable if possible, though." Adon's eyes left the girl rarely; she captivated him in ways he couldn't explain. Strange, only human, and yet he treated her better than any other of her kind he'd come in contact with. Perhaps it was that she is his employers, but that didn't matter ultimately. He needed not this job, so to respect the authority of the one that gave it to him also fell moot. A thought to ponder more in what seemed his infinitely free time.

                                  "I know that feeling, I've often questioned my decision whether coming here was the best choice. So far it hangs in the favor of yes. For what that's worth, I'm not entirely sure." Stifling a laugh, he sipped from his crystal glass, listening to the silence and occasional words exchanged between Errol and the other patron. His mind wandered for a moment to all of the individuals he'd encountered in this very room, each of whom had a profound impact in his development so far. He was but a child after all. To be shaped into just the right creature one experience after another. "Exciting? 'Fraid I'm not one for such happenings, unfortunately. Good looks and a stuck up personality only get you so far in this world. Perhaps a bit too self-loathing at times. This time he'd laugh good, though not obnoxiously loud or anything. Quickly following by drowning himself in his drink.



Place :The ONS - Bar Counter
Mood : //Shrug
With : Errol +1

тɧιs ιs ιғє.
ɪt's α тєst.
ɪt's α ɢαmє.
םιɗ yσυ ραss?
We Could Be Villains's avatar

Loyal Hoarder


                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╔══════════════╗
                              ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Errol Capland - Resident Bartender xxxxxxxxxxxx«
                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╚══════════════╝



                        ✖ Like the water when the sea got rough,
                        She was bored with the breeze, she was bored of her luck.
                        The winner and the loser told the fallen priest;
                        "That's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief"





User Image

                                                  [******** the cold.”

                                                  Fingers dancing at a side pocket, the bartender brought out her pack of smokes and lit up with the lighter in the container. Her maroon hues focused in on the cherry for a time, letting it burn hot at the end as she inhaled and tried to ease a bit in her seat. “I wish I could just sleaze out and ditch this place sometimes, just to find a new location to haunt.” Bringing her free hand up, the digits brushed back a collection of opalescent strands from her vision, which were anchored behind her ear. “But I can’t, because for some reason, I’m stuck running this joint.” A tilt of her chin motioned to the One Night Stand in all its glory, though the intention was meant to mock the establishment more than praise its existence.

                                                  “At least you have your youth…” She mentioned offhandedly between another drag and exhale. “I’d give anything to live forever. I can’t say I know just what sort of spook you are, but there’s one thing I’ve learned about the spookies in general.” Leaning forward a tad, Errol lowered her voice ever so slightly and continued, “You all live forever and there ain’t s**t you can’t do.” With that, the Albino was once more sitting comfortably on the rickety stool she claimed as her own, cigarette being flicked over her ever present ash tray. Maybe it was unusual to Errol that Adon spent as much time around her as he did, but he wasn’t the first guy to shoot her sexy eyes and get ignored. After all, ignorance was bliss, right?

                                                  In that light, Errol may have been the happiest person you ever laid your eyes on.

                                                  “I was hoping someone would have ransacked this place while I was gone, but it appears exactly as I left it. I wonder who else will come wandering in. Feels like high time they do so, if they’re gonna catch me in a decent mood.”
                                                  And while old Errol may have been a sweetheart to most, new Errol came off just a bit more jaded. Whatever her trip had involved, it was reflecting on the girl in ways few would have expected to see.








                                                  --------- And holding everything he made her steal,
                                                  She said, "Leave me alone, but just d o n ' txl e a v exm e here, all right?"
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KAZ
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ℓσcαтισиOne Night Standcσмραиץ

A vacation was definitely in order, so it was what he set out to do. For a week or so Kaz had tried to find a remote location in the area of somewhere quiet and calming. Something to change in his far too exciting life of hunting, he deserved it after the last year of non stop traveling anyway. So when he found this Inn in the forest he was ecstatic, but when he realized that otherkin were running the place he tried his hardest to stay calm and silent; planning on leaving in the morning since traveling by night was far to dangerous.

He had been in his room for a day, only having gone downstairs for some food and then retreating into the decorated suite. Kaz never asked for room service and made sure to take his own dishes back downstairs, warding the doors when he left and when he locked the doors behind him at night. Staying here was a bad idea for someone like himself, danger was always sure to follow; and really it was what he was trying to avoid. What Kaz didn't realize was that the owner of the inn, had friends.

A drink was in order tonight though. In the morning he would leave so it couldn't hurt being in public for a few hours right? Making his way across his room to the vanity he slipped on his beige plaid ivy cap over his tousled jet black hair. Setting his book down on the oak dresser he walked over to the coat rack and slipped on his vest before walking out the door, making a note to lock it behind him. Despite how many times he had seen the place when going to get meals, he still had no idea how to get around the place, but the sound of soft music, clinking of glasses and soft chatter was white guided him to the bar room.

Kaz ordered a drink at the bar, straight whiskey in a tumbler before going to the far back corner of the bar, taking a seat at a small table next to the fireplace. There were few people really, and it was generally quiet. Some even looked a little hostile towards each other oddly enough, but he kept to himself keeping an eye open for any funny business while he enjoyed his drink. If things went smoothly for him, he may even be tempted to explore a little bit.

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