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A soft sound at first, the light crescendo from what seemed to be a soft breeze until it became a soft hum of strummed strings. It was in the lavished room of Chloe's that these sounds seemed to emanate from. The room was elegant in an Elizabethan meets modern sort of matter. The floor was a polished dark wood that reflected the ornate ceiling and the designs set along the edge and corners of the ceiling, odd but intricate plaster designs sat there, hardly viewed but add much to the room. The room itself was large. A medieval hearth sat on the left wall from the thick oak door. to the right on a slightly raised floor covered in rich dark blue carpet sat a fore poster bed with elegant white and pastel blue gauzy fabrics draped over the dark wooden bed posts that appeared to be carved in a twisting design. The bed was plush and neatly made. Blues of many shades, white and black decorated it, pillows were piled against the head board that had a carved design of a night sky. The far wall held massive glass double doors that lead out to the stone balcony.

Heavy midnight blue curtains hung there to hide the sun when day arrived. The walls were made of stone and brick. The furniture was a mix of wooden antiques that matched the wood of her bed to modern items, such as a high tech stereo, a nice expansive TV and the like. Before the crackling fire sat the owner of the room in question, Chloe, sitting on one of two over stuffed chairs before the warm fire, she played her ever soul wrenching music with her lovely cello. The same cello from her days in France. Over the polished surface of the cello seemed to be a splatter of darker drops, stains.. from her blood. it was a painful reminder of her past, but it had also been a gift from her dear older brother, so she simply could not part with it. The song was slow, a trance of feelings that would cause any soul to pause and look at with awe, the simple beauty that could be brought out with an instrument often shoved to the back of an orchestra had so much potential, and she adored it, always would. Dressed in a modern style [Dress] she sat and played. Her white blond hair falling over her shoulder as she worked the strings with a fluid grace her oddly makeuped eyes were closed as she lost herself in her own music, lost in the passion.

Chloe was in no way a common vampire, though she may be young, she is still clearly a lady of class and purpose. She often simply refuses to be "common" among any group, far too used to being of some sort of importance among others from her life in her small town in France, even when taken by the crazy vampire he had worshipped the ground she bothered to step on. Though she had such need for importance, she was also patient. She was young, for a vampire, not as young as some, but she knew as time carried on she would become stronger, her self restraint and powers that had already blossomed were proof that she was too be much more then a simple vampire, she was sure, determinedly so, that as time carried on, she would become powerful and rise within the ranks of the vampires, whether she be forced to wait 130 years to be considered an Elder, she would not be a simple elder, she would be strong and make sure many would notice it. Oh so she may seem calm and her face leaves one to think she is harmless, she was far more. Currently within the vampire society she occupied herself with being one who had information on most vampires and doings within the city they held as their own, when one wished to know, they came to see Chloe D'clare.User Image

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                                                  Vermillion sat atop the altar of an old church. Recently marked as condemned, Vermillion had bought the property in haste. There was some sort of Irony in the whole thing that amused him. He needed a place the vampires could declare themselves, and St. Augustine was simply the most convenient location at the time.

                                                  "So this is St. Augustine's 'City of God?'" He let out a small laugh, as he scoffed at the interior of the building. It's interior was draped in a thick, dark red fabric. It lined the walls decoratively and gave off a dangerous glow. It served to cover the massive stained glass windows, and prevent any sunlight from pushing its way past and into the corridors. Though, it could barely hid the rotten stench of old floor boards, and beaten up stones. It needed work, but it would have to wait until later. 'City of God' couldn't have been more wrong.

                                                  Vermillion brushed his hair out of his face, and adjusted his hat properly before he slid down from the Altar. Vermillion posed as an officer of the law to the human realm. A Policeman. A fitting job if any. It gave him the amount of power and leverage he needed in the city to cover up any fool's mistakes. And cover up he would. His boots made a harsh clip-clop against the delicate wooden floor. His steps were slow and precise as he made his way to the Church's entrance.

                                                  Once at the entrance, he stepped outside into the dark, cool air. He paused. Taking a moment to breathe in the night. It was cool, and crisp. The sweet scent of blood and life lingered all around him. It rode on the winds from the humans who dared venture into the night.

                                                  "So tell me about this Incident." Vermillion reached within his coat pocket, withdrawing a zippo and a package of cigarettes. He placed the butt-end of the cigarette carefully between his lips."Are we sure it is a ghoul we are looking for?" He continued, disinterest resonating from his deep voice as he flicked on the Zippo and held it for a moment at the end of his cigarette. "Yes my lord. We have reason to believe he has been targeting Childe for their blood. From the human statements, we believe he has been exhibiting the same withdrawal symptoms most Ghoul's."

                                                  Well." Vermillion began, exhaling. "That is quite unfortunate." He pressed the cigarette back against his lips and inhaled deeply. "Do we know where he is located?" Vermillion asked the Vampiric police officer next to him, heading towards the cruiser.

                                                  "I'm afraid at this time we do not currently know his location." Vermillion opened the door for the man, casually waving his hand towards the driver's seat. "I know a certain someone who might have the information we are looking for. Please, Get in." Vermillion took his time walking to the other side of the cruiser, finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the side before he got into the cruiser.


Location: St. Augustine
Activity: Looking for information on a Ghoul / Going to visit Chole D'clare
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Dreaming may have been the correct word.

Tink, tink, tink, tink... A small blue butterfly flitted about inside a crystal jar. White feathers littered the antique desk it was set atop. The wood stained with spilt blood-laced wine. At the edge of the stained surface sits an empty bejeweled silver chalice. Behind the desk sits an oak throne-like scrollwork chair; red velvet cloth draped over the right shoulder and arm. Behind that stood a 6 foot tall light brunett, who's hair reached further then the small of her back. Dressed in a gown that would be considered "Goth" in this modern age. Her back faced the desk as she stood gazeing out into night sky. Her fair skin seemed even more so in the moon light. The sound of a modern gothic band called Katra filled the rain scented air. The room was lit with only one singal white candle set within a candelabra of five. Set in the center of the room stands a four-poster canopy bed biult of intertwined black iron rose vines. Gauzy black sheers fall from the ceiling, some catching on the thorns of the vines. The bed is sheeted in crimson, and covered with a black velvet duvet; littered in crimson and black pillows. The room was the only escape to the past Leta had left. In fact, her entire home was built or decorated to have a celtic/victorian appearance. Of course the modern conveniences were also within the household, and of course the looked very out of place.

Turning Leta gazed around her chambers with her erie emerald eye's and sighed deeply. Lonely as always she was. Her scarlet lips turned up in a sweet smile. Moveing acrossed the oak floor her small bare feet went 'pit-pat' as she made her way into the long corridor where her stareo sat atop an all glass table covered in a red velvet cloth. Pressing the glowing LED botton that read On/Off of the face of the machien, the music stopped to fill the manor with silence. Then off she went again to fetch her black stilettos from the Liveing quarters at the foot of the stairs. Slipping then on she also took her black-lace parasol in hand and headed out into the streets of the city.

Breathing in the night air Leta sighed happily before opening her parasol to cover herself from the light of the occasional street lamp. The scent of blood was light in the air, but luckily she had already fed. Prahaps she'd meet someone she knew along the way to the gods only knew where. In many ways Leta was still vary childish, and she didn't mind it in the least bit. And it was the childish feel that caused her to miss her young friend.


For now you must go unheard.

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                                          As the sun sank deeper beyond the horizon a lone figure rose from a deep slumber and began to prepare for the night's adventures. This figure pulled the front of her reddish-brown hair into a simple white ribbon letting the rest of it fall down her spine and past her waist. She smudged on a little clear lip gloss to give her soft lips the shine that seemed to attract the attention of many of the humans. She slipped into a simple white dress and a pair of lacy white flats that gave the impression that she was going out somewhere special. As if by habit, she glanced in the bathroom mirror. She saw nothing of course, but, it was a habit that even two centuries couldn't undo. Learning to do her hair without the use of a mirror had been simple enough, but, her feminine habits had never looked past the mirrors. As she gazed into the mirror a slight rumble shook her stomach. She smiled and turned away, it had been a day or so since her last meal and she was feeling the effects.

                                          Walking out of the home she'd purchased after moving to the small town in the 1920's, Adeline made her way down the walk and into the evening air. She knew a spot where the artistic humans loved to venture to in the night. Often times, these souls had come from another place to pursue their arts and thus wouldn't be missed by anyone if Adeline were so inclined to make one of them a snack as was her intention tonight. As she walked she could feel the eyes of the humans on her. She was used to the attention by now, used to the wondering gazes of humans who couldn't understand how she could look so flawless without more than lip gloss while others had to put layers of powder on their faces in order to get the same look. She simply smiled and turned down an alley and continued on her way.

                                          As she walked, she came across one of the artists she was looking for. He held a camera that seemed to blend in with his black hair. She stood and watched him for a moment, the way he held his tool and shot whatever he felt inclined to. It wasn't until he requested a photo of her that she realized he'd noticed her. She gave a nod of her head to give him permission. She wouldn't show up on the film, but, it was such a small thing and she didn't plan for him to be alive long enough to develop the film anyway. Things couldn't have been more perfect, she would simply lead him away from the other humans that had gathered in the area and he would be hers.
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i . h a t e . i t . w h e n . . .


Seven. Seven pairs of shoes, for seven days of the week and seven bodies to eat. No. Not to eat. Not seven anyway. Maybe two. One? Just one this week, one body this week so far. The cops will put it off on a rabid animal. More rabies. Rabies again. Always rabies.

But Melbourne hadn't put the body out yet, it was still in her basement's basement next to the broken piano where she had come from. The poor soul really didn't know what he had gotten into when he had walked in. Walked? Wandered was more like it. The homeless man, ragged and thin as he was, happened to have one thing going for him with her... he had recently gotten intoxicated, and the alcohol in his blood she could still taste in her mouth. While the effects on mortals were vastly lessened, it was nice to feel the old tinge of warmth that radiated in her body very quietly. Quiet... it was quite quiet where she was. Wait. Where am I?

Malris stopped dead in her tracks under the hazy glow of an old street lamp and looked up. She must have left once it hit sunset, which means the homeless man had come in well before the evening. She must've been quite a sight, standing in a skirt, a silk shirt and a coat. She had a pair of sunglasses on at the time and the high collar kept the small stains of blood on the edges of her mouth from being too noticeable. Lucky her, she didn't think she was anywhere important. Not too important at least.

Collecting herself from the remnants of the haze, she began meandering down the street.


Y'know. You might run into someone fun tonight...

Ohhh yes... just remember to keep walking so you don't actually RUN into anyone! Hehehehe!

But running is so exhilarating, isn't it?! Shouldn't we go running, mistress?

And of course voices started again, as Malris knew all too well. they weren't always bad, most times they were entertaining for those long, long summer days when she would have to hide underground... but the spring was only just now jumping out of winter, and it was times like this that she missed seeing daylight.

Tonight however, was going to be a good night.

We could run... running is always good. And it's not like we didn't have dinner again like we usually do, right? Yes... yes yes yes... to stretch an run and fly in our own way, sounds like a glorious thing to do tonight... she thought to herself, stopping at an intersection waiting for traffic to pass. Maybe we should just find somewhere to play, or sit... sitting is just as good, if not better than running..

Past the corner of the street she was on, Malris could see the old church. Something important had happened to that church recently. What was it? Court-marshaled? No. Churches couldn't get court-marshaled. Maybe it wasn't like that... condemned? Was that the word? Condemned, yes it was!

Malris crossed the street and stood watching the church from a block away or so. There was a car currently parked in front of it, and as she slowly made her way towards it, two men left the church and made a beeline for the car. It seemed to be a nice cruiser, expensive likely. She didn't really understand the idea of having a lot of money.. taking things just felt too easy at times. But in most cases she could be convinced otherwise.

The car passed her and she caught a glimpse of one of the men who looked oddly familiar... but Malris wouldn't press her luck. Unfortunately, lots of people looked familiar to her if she looked at them the right way... even upside down someone could look like a long-lost cousin. It was enough to give her pause, before she found a short bench facing the church and sat down.

Yes... we said sitting is better than running, right? Running not so much as jogging but yes..


. . . c h i n c h i l l a s . e a t . t h e . u n i v e r s e .
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Today had gone on for far too long. The young woman sighed heavily as she continued to walk down the street towards her dorm. Her long auburn hair floated behind her in the soft breeze as she walked down the sidewalk looking a bit annoyed. Her work had made her stay late. Which made her miss the last bus going her way for the next hour. It was dark, and she had no intention of waiting at a bus stop by herself at night for over an hour. She'd make it home by then just walking.

Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she quickened her pace. Rhava had a reason to be concerned. She knew what really walked the streets at night. She has known her entire life. That is why she walked around at night with a stake hidden inside of her camo jacket instead of pepper spray. Rhava has no intention of going out to harm any of the children of the night. She just had no intention of becoming food without a fight.

Her simple, black converse shoes carried her quickly down the street. She sighed seeing the outline of the old church. Just a turn and a few more blocks to the campus. Then, she was home free to the safety of her dorm. Rhava smiled a little as she walked down one side of the church then paused to turn away from it. During her pause, she caught sight of something. More like someone. Her eyes caught a glimpse of a man getting into a rather nice car, and some kind of off kilter looking woman. But, it was the look of the man that caught her attention. She felt a cold jolt run up her spine.

Rhava froze standing like a deer in headlights as the faint memories came to her. He was not the man she remembered from her childhood, but he was like him. This man is the same, thing. Her eyes went wide as she felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Rhava took in a deep breath then turned sharply to walk quickly down the other way. Thankfully, it is the direction she needed to get to safety. She just hoped that she hadn't drawn too much attention to herself. Rhava started to play with the ornate Victorian cross around her neck out of nerves, praying to whoever would listen, that she made it home safely tonight.


::______________________________________________________::

"All works, no matter what or by whom painted, are nothing but bagatelles and childish trifles... unless they are made and painted from life" - Caravaggio
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Out of the light

Solomon sat alone in Chloe's guest room contemplating the information he'd gathered during the day. His hand passed back and forth over a page as he sketched some of the faces he had seen in the last few weeks. Some were seen at night and as such had less detail while others looked like they could almost spring from the page. Vampires and their possible ghouls. I've got to practice more this isn't going fast enough. He took a quick glance around the room. There was a rather simple but comfortable bed sat tidy in the center of the room a quilt spread over it and a single pillow laying at the head of the bed. The one small window currently covered in black out curtains. On the nightstand by the bed a couple of boxes of hand gun ammo sat next to three empty clips. A small but immaculately clean mirror hung beside a dresser near the door.

As Solomon continued to work his hand started to shake quickly turning good quality sketches to a big load of rubbish. Damn I want more already? The longer I'm with her the faster I need to go back to her before I start to suffer from withdrawal symptoms. He set his pencil down, got up, and walked over to his dresser where he quickly got into a nice suit. Shirt, jacket, buttons....Damn it all. As he got to the buttons on the cuff Sol found his hands just refused to cooperate. His fingers would tremble at just the wrong time and he would lose his grip for minutes as a time as he struggled against his body The thirst is not my master. I will do this. I am my own person I can button my own bloody cuffs.

Another five minutes into the struggle he managed a little smile as he looked into the guest room's mirror. "All buttoned." It's all about the small victories. Sol pulled a sidearm out from under his pillow and placed it into an under arm holster. After a few minutes struggling to tie his shoes he walked out the door and towards Chloe's room. Slow down He reminded himself as he slowed back down from a run. On the way he walked passed the piano he had occasionally played when it was safe to assume Chloe wouldn't hear. His thoughts turned to his life before becoming a ghoul but quickly reverted as the need for her blood redoubled it's efforts to make him hurt for not having it sooner.

Don't say my lady. Don't give in. It's just blood I don't need it. Sol knocked on Chloe's door politely and only raised his voice enough to be heard. "My lady." Why the hell did you say that? So much for the small victories. "If it would not disturb you any it seems that it is time to renew my binding." Great. We always do great until she's involved. And then you go and ******** it up. Sol forced any trace of the stutter he was developing out of his voice and slowed his fingers until their shaking was barely discernible. He took a few deep meditative breathing and his heart rate slowed down to a normal pace. "May I enter?"
the darkness beckons.
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Tizzy

The air is cool, the sky is dark, and Tizzy is board. His leather black backpack hung over hid right shoulder as he stood on a fire escape looking down at the world below. The anarcy emblem he wore on a silver chain hung around his neck, lightly clicking against the wroght-iron railing. His Leather jacket blocked the slight wind. Tizzy missed Leta. He had dicided to take a short trip to Greece because he was always curious about the ruins. He loved Greece, but he knew he needed to come back. He was getting home-sick, no, friend-sick. He couldn't stand the thought of Leta being hurt.
When no humans were in sight, Tizzy lept over the railing and landed silently upright. His black Doc. Martians made no sound. He was getting better at being quiet, and sticking to the shadows. Soon enough, he wouldn't have to worry about it, soon it would be effortless. He turned toward his home he shared with Leta and marched on. The chains that crisscrossed around his skiny jeans made a twinkling sound as he walked.
Tizzy finnaly reached the 2 story plus attic victorian manor. It looked so vary haunting in the night light. The street lamps glowed like fire against the blacked out windows. Oh yeah, it was good to be home. He opened to door and peeked inside to see the fireplace lit and all quiet. "Leta?" Tizzy called before shutting the door quietly behind him. Normaly she would have come running down the stairs barefoot before throwing herself on him and smuthering him and a tight hug. But know one came. "She must be out." He said quietly to himself before makeing his way upstairs to his room across the way from Leta's. Upon entering the room, he found everything as he left it. 'Messy bed, Check. Scattered papers and books, Check.' Even his horrific drawings of monsters and fantasy creatures were still on the walls, drawn with multi-colored sharpies of course. Tizzy tossed his backpack on a over turned cable spool he used for a table, then ploped onto his bed. "Home sweet, home" wasn't even the begining of it. Now he could start reading over his list of "To-Do" things, and he remembered what number one on the list he wrote clearly: See Vermillion about hunting Rouges.

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                                                  The ride in the Cruizer was slow, but Vermillion was in no hurry. Over a thousand years had taught him the important aspect of patience. He payed vary little attention to the dull scenery that passed by. He had seen the same things a million times before, and its wonder had slowly dwindled away. It took a lot to move Vermillion these days.

                                                  "Sire." The boy choked up next to him as they pulled into the parking lot. Vermillion never understood Chloe's fascination with living in high, lavish places. A Longhouse was more than enough for him. All that extra space. It simply was a waste. Aesthetics. "Lets get this over with." Vermillion responded, as the car slowed to a stop and he opened the door. The two of them approached the house. The scene was similar to policemen coming to investigate a noise complaint. Except the building was large, and lavishly adorned with Victorian figures and tiny details.

                                                  The officer next to him stopped in front of the door and reached out to knock, but Vermillion couldn't be bothered. He simply kicked the door, and it flung wide open before him. His steps echoed off the vast ceilings as he walked to the centre of the first floor. He reached in his pocket again, withdrawing his package of cigarettes and his zippo.

                                                  "Chole D'clares!" He yelled. His deep voice resonating dangerously off the walls. A visit by Vermillion was rarely a pleasant one, particularly when he wanted something.
                                                  He flicked open his package of cigarettes and slid one into his mouth. He would not call again, only wait for the young vampire to come to him. He slipped the package into his pocket, and brought the zippo's flame up to the end of the cigarette, holding it ever-so delicately as he inhaled.


Location: Chole's Suite.
Activity: Looking for information on a Ghoul/ Waiting for Chloe D'clare
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It was another one of those days where he was looking for inspiration, any kind. He had hit and artistic slump, all of his work was begining to blend into one common theme, he didn't want common, he wanted somthing different. Was that typical of an artist? To want to be something different but that simple thought of wanting to be different is what made him to be like every other artist. He tsked, dissapointed with himself. He was in such a rut. He took pictures of this and that and something pointless over there, hoping something, anything would give him atleast an incling of inspiration, to once again bring him to the drive to make something again.

As if silently answering his calls, that was when he saw her, she looked almost like a ghost, a specter wandering from place to place with no real goal in mind. But she was not like a typical ghost, usualy full of morning, self hate, unkempt with the scars of their death, no, she was like ghost who new very well she had passed from life to the haunting one of the undead, but would she stop herself from being a lady? No, she held herself with grace of one who had truely been a lady of the past. Finaly, inspiration, he could make a dozen or so peices of art depicting her story, oh and what a story it would be! One of strength, integrity, and of course, a murder most foul.

He had managed to gather the courage to ask her to pose for him, he was surprised to find her agreeing, how odd, he had thought she was, infact, a ghost and would simply continue on her way and not bother with a symplton such as himself. So here they were, him taking pictures of her, trying to get her form and every detail captured on the film he simply had to have every detail for his art to keep it pure. Slowly, he lowered his camera and smiled to her. pleased with his pictures. "Thankyou again for modeling for me" He said in his slightly quite voice, truely quite happy with what would soon be his amazing work, oh, he would enjoy every moment of the art, he would start her off, wandering through the ages, the scenery changing behind her as she walked, her back straight, not even letting her new immortality faze her.

(crapy post, sorry =x)

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                                          Posing for this child was quite the experience for Adeline. Sure, she'd posed for a few paintings in her long life but those had been things paid for by her sire. The artists who'd painted her had never seemed enthralled in their work as this one did. He looked as if he'd been searching solely for her all his life. It was almost a shame that she wouldn't show up on his film, she would've loved to see what turned up when he was finished.

                                          When he was finished with his photos he gave his thanks and she responded by pushing a stray lock of hair behind her shoulder and saying, "Please, I consider it a compliment. A faint accent laced her words almost making her sound British. She blamed her sire for that, when they'd first ventured to America her French accent was dominant. After spending more than a century with a group of English vampires had given her their accent. She flashed him one of her best smiles and went on to say, "Let me thank you for your compliment by letting me buy you a drink." Now was the time to strike or he'd be lost to her. She could feel her fangs poking at the inside of her lips at just the concept of sinking them into his soft flesh.

                                          ~(wow...that was terrible, I'm sorry)~
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Out of the light

Solomon spun around and dropped to a knee as he pulled out his sidearm Hunters? No they're not that stupid. Sabbot? Maybe. Hope not. This gun wouldn't do much against them Sol's off hand dropped down the the combat knife strapped to his leg and pulled it as he took in his surroundings. The Sheriff? Could be. The old b*****d is know to have a temper, although I haven't seen him before.

Realizing that if it was a raid something would've been here by now Sol hid his weapons in their appropriate places and straightened his suit. He steadied himself as he got up and headed to the entrance to greet whoever had made all that noise. Sol stood straight and walked as if he were a stewerd The blood will have to wait. I don't need anybody knowing that I am Chloe's errand boy.

As Solomon reached the entrance he focused on keeping his composure. No need to let anybody know that he was a ghoul before it was absolutely necessary. As the sheriff came into view Sol spoke in a soft and seemingly cultured voiced "Good evening sir may I take your coat?" As he walked closer to the Sheriff he couldn't help but be angry You couldn't have come at a better time? All I can think about is her blood. I can't let my Guard down with a kindred as old as this one.


The darkness beckons


(well, short post, but I had to leave it a little open.)
Knil Lanif's avatar

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[First Floor] - [Second Floor] - [Third Floor]

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Chloe opened her blue eyes and looked up to her grand oak door, it was closed tight and the knock on the other side could have been easily unheard, but too a vampire, she could easily detect the light knock, she knew who it was before he even spoke. Her darling Ghoul. He was a good servant, a good choice for her, at the beginning he had been resistant, of course,having been a hunter he didn't like being associated with a vampire, much less her servant, but he didn't have much choice in that matter. Eventually, he had come around, he was loyal and suited her purposes just fine, did her dirty work and got her information about all that happened in the city concerning the coven.

Chloe set her cello and bow in their case to her side and snapped the case shut. She straightened herself in her chair, about to permit him entrance into her room when a bang cause her to jump and emit a soft gasp. The voice that followed, calling for her. A smile played lightly at her lips, a yes, she knew that ever bitter voice as well as well as her own, she let out a sigh and stood to her feet and began to stride to her door. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she opened her door and stepped out with the light click of her heels as she moved to the banister and looked down at her guests and Ghoul. Dressed in his uniform, Maxwell looked positively imposing, but Chloe had a feeling that was simply his demeanor, not the cloths. "Ah, Hello Maxwell, I assume this is not a casual visit" She drawled as she absently rand a hand along the banister. She noted Soloman was standing by the sheriff, having asked for his coat. "Oh, don't bother, Soloman, Maxwell will undoubtedly not be staying long, he doesn't much favor my company, so it seems" She tsked and playfully pouted as she made her way down the stairs to the entry way. She took a moment to glance at her door and tsked. "Perhaps next time you could open it by the door knob?" She suggested as she reached the entry way.

She made her way up to them and looked over the officers easily. "And what is it I can do for you today, officer?" She hummed as she stood before them and glanced to Soloman, he hadn't knocked at her door to tell her that Maxwell was here,what had he wanted? Possibly blood, he had become so addicted to it, especially of late, perhaps he had information? She would not know till later. Slowly she turned and began to make her way across the polished floor. "Come" She told them as she began to make her way to the living room. It was there choice whether they followed her to sit down, but if they didn't that meant this conversation would be across he room. She reached one of the comfy and beautiful chairs and sank down onto it in a single elegant motion before motioning her hand to the couch for the officers to join them. Soloman could take the other chair across the coffee table from her own.

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Dreaming may have been the correct word.

Leta watched a group of people gathered around a magician preforming tricks. A few blocks down music thumped. Leta smiled warmly and moved on, leaveing a tip to the man playing people a fool before hand. People were so odd, but ever since Jack O'Conner stepped into her life and weezeled his way into her heart, she's begun to understand. Moving down the street her heels made a light clicking sound. Stopping only just a moment to have a polite chat with a goth cute couple. Even though she didn't need it, she had the urge to eat chocolate, so she stopped in a cafe and bought a brownie.

Humming to herself, not perposly drawing attention, but people did of course turn a gape. Without thought, she broke into an old Shakespeare poem called The Fairy Song: "Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire!
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours;
In those freckles live their savours;
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear."

Giggling to herself she skipped happily, nearing the Church. Leta hummed as she looked over the old place. Turning to walk away, she noticed someone sitting upon a bench. Curiosity of course took over. "Hello there, why sit here? Plesent night it is though dear." Leta spoke softly, her gaelic accent hangs heavy. She could feel she was a vampire, she could also smell a light scent of freash blood abaout here. Nearing her, she took pause at her side.


For now you must go unheard.

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Brigidt's avatar

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User ImageMALRIS
i . h a t e . i t . w h e n . . .


Malris was sitting by herself for a bit of time when she saw a couple pass her by heading across the street. It seemed like they may have been going towards the university... but it didn't matter. If they were, she didn't care.

Maybe we will run into someone interesting... she thought to herself, pulling her legs up to sit crossed-legged on the bench. She looked down at her legs, pale and thin, and looked at her clothes. Am I dressed to meet someone? she thought, and pulled out her mirror. She was crazy, yes. But messy? Oh dear, no.

Pulling a small bag from her pocket, she began working on her face.. layering on a thin, light layer of foundation and then a light dusting of bronzer so she didn't look dead. Technically she was... but modern makeup could make any skin tone or supernatural being look vibrant and healthy.

Ten minutes later, and a half ounce worth of makeup later, she looked on at herself and puckered her lips, smoothing out the dark red lipstick she chose for tonight. Malris may have been turned into a vampire with her mental problems remaining, but she had learned over her years how to push down some of the voices and thoughts for just long enough to have a few hours of cohesion and seduction to bring a man (or woman if the mood struck her) home for a night of X-rated fun.

Oohh... look at this! she thought to herself as a figure strode up from out almost nowhere. Whoever it was, she seemed suddenly intent on her, and came upon her.
"Hello there, why sit here? Plesent night it is though dear." she said. Malris could hear an accent laden deep within her voice, and her clothing felt a bit odd. But then again, this was the 21st century... people were wearing their underwear out in public on a frequent basis if you were in the right parts of the world.

"Well... it happens to be a quite comfortable bench, of course!" she said and smiled widely. Malris looked around to see if anyone else was nearby, and then stood up. "And why is such a lovely specimen such as yourself wandering these streets alone?.."

A short once-over of this woman she sensed something different about her. And of course, familiar.

"...one must be capable of defending themselves in these dangerous times." She ticked a half smile towards her, this youthful woman who she suspected might share her tainted blood and nodded towards her respectively.

. . . c h i n c h i l l a s . e a t . t h e . u n i v e r s e .

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