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Isabella smiled to see the man more clearly now "Ah a lost traveller well you have come to the right city then," Speaking now in english she had a faded barely audible accent. "You speak Russian very well, most don't these days," He was definitely interesting he was different from the other vampires to roam this city which interested her even more.

"I am Isabella Van-Heir and you are?," catching her eyes upon his sword excitement thriving her "That is a lovely weapon, the age of it and how you have kept it in such good shape," she hadn't seen one of those swords in a very long time it put a smile on her face to see some one such as this mysterious vampire to have one.

"Интересно, действительно (Interesting, Indeed)," her Russian so flawless that it would give one the impression she was born in Russia but no one really knew the history of Isabella except one, Max who has know her so long now. Through the years of living the endless life of a vampire she had not come across anyone to interest her from the first moment of meeting and this mystery man was doing that. Would he be different from the other lowly vampire men she had met before? Or maybe he was different someone interesting.





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"I can make you do things you wouldn't even imagine...

Alto followed Vermillion into his private room. He made sure to shut the door quietly behind them. When he spoke it was only loud enough for Vermillion to hear, nothing more, nothing less. "I trust you have arranged for proper care of the girl? If you can not find somebody suitable I would be willing to take her off your hands." He said offhandedly.

He turned his attention away from the room looked at Maxwell and Smiled wider then he'd smiled all night. "You really have done well for yourself. I didn't think you had the stomach for politics." he walked over to him and offered his hand for a shake and a hug. "That meeting back there, were those members of your counsel?" He questioned Maxwell.

At that point in time Alto stopped cold. The sound of the violin being played in the background caused him to shudder visibly. "It has been a while since..." He broke himself off and recovered his composure. "I have something that I must ask you."

He mulled ideas around in his head for a bit and then spoke. "Have you felt a thirst? One that cannot be quenched by normal means?" He paused for a few seconds to give him time to reply and then continued. "Fifty years ago, when I finished the last of my studies in Africa, I became consumed by such a thirst. When I tried to drink from the mortals the blood would turn to ash."

He continued on with a look of guilt "When my teacher tried to help me I ripped out his throat in a frenzy. The smell of the vitae was just to much and I drank deeply. I woke up later satisfied. Now, I've retraced my steps, and looked for the reason behind this but have yet to find one. I know you were closer to our sire then I was and that you hide considerably more intellect behind that thick skull of yours then you let on, did he ever mention anything like this? Do you have any idea why this could be happening?" The last sentences were filled with hopeful curiosity.

After a short pause to receive any reply he spoke again. "There is one other thing I feel I must mention. However Lady D'clare has information on the same subject and I feel that divulging anything without her here to hear it would be a crime."

"yet all of it pales in comparison to the love of another."
~~:~~ Rhava ~~:~~User Image

Rhava barely stirred as she was laid on the bed. She even rolled over onto her side, hugging a pillow and pulling the sheet over her shoulder. This was the first time in days that she had actually slept at night. Usually, she was rather uneasy with being unconscious during the twilight hours. This had left her in a semi-permanent state of jet lag. Soon enough, her eyebrows started to furrow in her sleep again. A new set of images came to her mind now. The sounds of the violin seemed to calm her down slightly. 'Wait.... that's not something I listen to,' the thought creeped into her dreaming mind as the sounds seemed to travel into her subconscious. A few moments of peace came to her, then she suddenly bolted up gasping for air.

In a panic, Rhava felt her neck. There was no sign of blood, but there was still the rough feeling from the bite wound. Then, she slowly looked around her. The bed was very foreign to her. "Holy ********] she shouted quickly trying to push herself out of the bed. A combination of blood loss and getting her boots tangled in the sheets caused her to fall out of the bed and onto the floor. "Ow....... Why did I have to land on my shoulder?" she groaned rolling onto her back, her foot still caught in the sheet. Rhava's right shoulder was bruised from being thrown to the ground earlier. She looked up to see the sheets still covering her. She had red and black sheets too, but they were much cheaper cotton ones she had 'bought' from a department store that shall remain unnamed.

After taking a second to recover, Rhava popped up to her feet and looked around the room. She recognized the woman that had taken her diary. Then, this other woman.... Rhava couldn't help but to feel she recognized her from somewhere, but wasn't for sure. Either way, she was in a strange stone room against her will. A room that was far too nice for Rhava comfort level. "Alright.... so, who are you guys and where the hell am I?" she asked. Rhava's hand went back up to her neck out of nerves. She rubbed the bite mark wondering if it would scar. There were already a few scars on her body, so one more wouldn't hurt. Rhava pulled down her black tank top trying to adjust her clothing. The shirt had blood on it and had stuck to her skin, making pulling it down feel extra gross. "And where's Tizzy?" she demanded narrowing her eyes as she tried to fix her disheveled hair.




::______________________________________________________::

"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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The woman, for whatever reason, seemed rather interested in him, he wasn't sure if this was a good thing or simply an irritation. She hadn't caused him any bother other than breaking his air of unimportance, so he chose to let her more fully engage him. He turned his gaze and finally let his eyes meet her own. they were a brilliant shade of crimson, bordering on scarlet. No illusion or charm or contact lens made them this way, the blood-red hue came to him naturally, and a few times in the past it had given his true nature away and nearly cost him his life.

"Русский является языком .... точную" he said, taking a pause to choose the proper descriptive word.

He spoke in an odd way, very methodically. His patterns made his contemplation of word choice very obvious, but in general he was a methodical person. True, he was capable of very quick thought and almost untrackable reflexes, even amongst his own kind though he didn't know it, he had never been a very quick speaker. either by his choice, or because it simply wasn't something he had a lot of practice in doing.

"London...London Fog" he answered, though he offered no gesture to fallow it. Now bow of the head, no extension of his hand, just the plane and simply stating of his name in answer to her question.

His breath nearly caught in his throat when she mentioned his sword, and he had to take a bit of time to bate back hi sudden spike of anticipation. Only one before her hand recognized his sword, only telling London that it was the key to his identity but giving him no rela information otherwise. How did she know it? How did she know it was old? A thousand questions, thsoe same thousand questions that had haunted him for five decades of wandering rushed into his mind and it took a great deal of control to silence them all, and force them to proceed one at a time, and at a calm, collected pace.

Glancing a bit as his sword so as to note he spoke in reference to it, London asked "What do you know of this sword?" he spoke with as much calm and composer as he was capable of, but were she perceptive, there would be no hiding the sudden, although slight, rise in his heart beat at her mention of that crimson blade.
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Hearing his response to her compliment on the Russian she was pleased by his methodical thinking before speaking it was rare to see an immortal as herself to actually take the time to speak, refreshing.

Looking up she saw his eyes such a rare colour for one of her breed to carry even when not feeding, she could will her eyes naturally to change colour maybe because she was never a human turned into a vampire but a pure bred she was born a vampire never knowing really what it was to be human giving her similar abilities as other turned vampires but extra abilities that differed from most vampires because of her purity. His story played upon his eyes showing her there was a story to be told that in some sense he might not know of... Something mysterious indeed.

Moving her eyes from his to the sword and then back up to meet his gaze again "I know that it is from the deserts of the east, forged for battle only six of them where created, So beautiful they where," Pausing she looked at it again with content how she loved seeing that sword again it brought some old memories clawing back up to the delight of her youthful days.

"They hold such magic to them, I have not seen one of these sword in so long it is good to see one of the six is still in such good shape." Curiosity peeked her mind as to why he would ask her a question such as this, if he carried one of the three swords he must know of its past...Strange yet intriguing to her making her want to know more.






User Image Location The church
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User ImageMALRIS
i . h a t e . i t . w h e n . . .


By now, Melbourne had taken several steps towards the wall, keeping her eyes on the main show. She had been doing really well, all things considered. Vermillion smacking Tizzy most of the way across the church? Not so much as a blink. The entry of more people? She had not even noticed at the time. She had completely glazed over by the time the overly-dramatic... what was he, a dhampire? By the time he had entered, but what drove her over was the outrageous display from, what she could only guess was one of the Von Goethes.

Vermillion had marked the newcomer as fair game. Whatever was happening, it felt amplified tenfold within her head and she could but only look on glassy-eyed as the hands, though they seemed far away, seemed to reach into the church and curl precariously around each and every one of the guests of the trial.

She continued & took a step back, and another. And another. Until she was under a window off to the side halfway between the front of the church and the egress. Her vision blurred and centered on the hands, almost tentacle like and all she could do was just watch in horror as, in her head, she saw each and every person have the black hands phase through their skulls, reaching ever so closely. A familiar yellow figure was some feet in front of her, but he wasn't addressing her.


Shoo, shoo! Go away. Leave her alone. he remarked angrily. But even Midas couldn't keep the hands away and they penetrated even his geist, and Melbourne slumped in fear against whatever was behind her.

"No, no. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop." she said, and continued to say clenching her eyes closed. Melbourne almost could feel the creeping tentacley hands begin to grab at her feet, at her legs and at her hands. Melbourne held onto the broken radio pieces, and kept her eyes closed.


I said SHOO!

Midas's voice almost hurt her head. She dared not uncover her eyes.


You should leave this place, Malris, he said to her and she felt the creeping of the hands subside. She had appreciated their quick action in the taking care of the dhampir, but she wanted nothing more than to be away from the church right now. Melbourne moved behind the pews, in a half crawl, blindly heading towards the exit.

Melbourne carefully opened her eyes, one at a time, and peeked over the pews. She was close to the exit now, but Desi seemed to be rooted to his position. Whatever was going in his head, he could deal with later. She would deal with it later. Right now, Melbourne wanted home. Carefully, she stood and kept her gaze level. "We leave now. Tizzy will be here later."

With that, Melbourne carefully kept her back to the wall, not quite caring about opinion at this point and continued shifting her gaze, unreasonably paranoid to the onlookers who she hoped were too distracted to see or even care about her little episode. She would apologize for not saying goodbye later, not that anyone likely cared. She felt bad leaving Desi without a proper reunion. But he would get that later.

As she left the church, she inched away from the door and closed it carefully after Desi had followed, and tried to remember where she lived. It felt so much farther away tonight than it had before, and she stood some feet away from the entry way, outside the small courtyard.

. . . 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 .
User ImageLondon Fog
Those crimson eyes were so lost, so without knowledge and guided only by a shallow sense of purpose; the seeking of one's purpose rarely filled a man with a sense of one. They were old, even older than his actual age which was hard to exactly tell due to whatever was so strange about his genetic and energetic make up. They were filled with the kind of fear that only those that have walked the dangerous path of betrayal and darkness, the kind of fear that kept a man alive. In the same light, existed a fearlessness, a complete uncaring, a cold, empty, perspective of the world and the events it had to offer. To say the least,they were an interesting pair of eyes beyond just their rare hue.

London took this all, trying to let the information come slowly, bit by bit. He wanted to drink it all it, take every word she said as it passed her lips but he had to keep his excitement in check. ~She could be lying~ he told himself, though he doubted it. If anything, falling back on his suspicious nature helped him keep calm, and made her words stimulate him less.

He had assumed the blade was battle forged, based on the power it had displayed on the few occasions he had been forced to let the silky steel slip free from its sheath. Magical though, that he hadn't solidified until now. It made sense, he himself had built a similar assumption but London was not the type to put much stock in assumptions nor the type to push an assumption into a belief without proper evidence. ~Why were so few forged?~ he asked himself; it seemed strange that something of such power would have been replicated only a handful of times. If the power to copy it existed, why had he never seen another like it?

Letting a small sigh of air out his nose quietly, he decided there was little harm in explaining the complication of his situation to this woman, he would have to tell someone here eventually if his venture were to prove any flavor of fruitful.
"I've no indication to the history of this sword." he paused, deciding how to word the next bit of information "I was buried with me near five decades past in the Californian deserts."

As he spoke, only half known to him, his finger tips would slowly work their way farther down the handle of the sword, bringing his ability to grip it at a moments notice closer at hand. This was likely because the last three times he had passed this story on, save the last time, he had been met with violence and let to live only by the mercy of this crimson blade. It was evident that his journey had not been a peaceful one, nor a trust-inspiring one at that.
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His eyes so intriguing she could see the story, the history of this mysterious London at the tip of his eyes but hidden at the same time only giving that spark to make one want to know more but not know how to learn more. Moving she sat down on a empty seat near London thinking through the 800 years she has lived had there been such a incident of one such as London.

Looking up to hear he had no memory of the sword or who he was obviously by the story of him walking in the coffin alone with the sword. "Такой трагический способ быть включен (Such a tragic way to be turned)," She spoke softly looking down almost absent minded as if she hadn't realize the words slip from her lips. In all her years she could not recall a story being told of this of a man being turned and left to be buried with one of the six swords.

Eyes wandering she finally gazed back up to him "Do you know who turned you?" taking in a breath his scent filled her nostrils, the scent so sweet with richness that made her more confused then before. His scent was so rich so pure with no lingering scent of the one to sire him, no tainted faint smell of humanity in his veins. How could that be? When a human is turned their vampiric scent is a mixture of their now tainted human blood and the vampire who sired them but when a vampire such as Isabella who was not turned but born vampire the scent is much different...Unique to others each pure born vampire has a different scent differing from each but they all give off that purity that lingers in their veins, the blood of the pure never tainted.





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                  You're making a choice to live like this

                            And it's still so hard to be who you are

                                      So you play this part and the show goes on

                                                But you've come this far with a broken heart

                                                          And in all of the noise, I am silence


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                              Lucien was not blind to the glances she was giving to him when she believed he was not watching. He recognized the interest in her gaze and decided that getting away from her would be the best, the only safe course of action he could take. She owed him no debt as he had simply been in the right place at the right time for circumstances to make her believe he had done something to save her. That sort of attention was unneeded and the urge to bite into the first piece of rare meat he could get his hands on was continuing to gnaw upon the back of his mind. If he didn't eat soon, he would begin to feel that sickening thirst again. Humans ate food regularly to live; he ate food regularly to keep from eating humans.

                              He had been keeping mostly to himself as they walked towards the general direction of where she had gestured the location of her apartment. At least it wasn't as far away from here as he had anticipated. Avoiding the church was easy however, considering that there was an accessible alleyway that would prevent them from ever going close enough to see those that had left. By that, he meant the stalkers of the night that he could sense exiting the building, and he wasn't willing to see this woman dead while he was walking beside her. Knowing all of the Greek tragedies, the most likely scenario would be that she would call him for help if she recognized the danger, and he would be too busy trying to keep himself from being the one that attacks her. The animalistic and primitive signs of a fleeing prey animal made it difficult for anyone of the vampire blood to control themselves.

                              Stopping just short of the apartment complex, he glanced at her, and behind her to make sure there was nothing trailing them waiting for him to move along before swooping in. Whatever had been stalking her earlier was long gone now. He wanted to believe it would stay that way, and once in her apartment she would have the intelligence to think through that tonight was not a good night if she had already been chased after once.
                              "I'll watch from here to make sure no strays are around until you get inside the building. You need to call your employer and explain that you were almost attacked, and I should leave, my cats will want to have their heater to smother while they sleep."

                              The last of the message was more to amuse her and lighten the situation, despite how honest he was being about it. Those cats, when they weren't trying to kill him, were begging for food or sitting on him for attention. Nodding politely, he waited for her to move, keeping to his words. He would wait until she was inside the building before moving on.


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Person :: Serenity
Place :: Street / Near Ren's apartment


XX XX X [{ Owns Ox red Chains :: }] X XX XX
Sorry for the delay.
I had finals to study for.

XX XX X X X XX XX
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Following him down the road she tried to keep her eyes from wandering towards him the way they had when in his apartment. Not really sure why but she couldn't help it like it was some higher sense that she couldn't tell drawing her eyes to him. Passing by the church and taking the ally way to her apartment she paused turning towards him "Thank you again," a smile and wave she nodded with a small giggle to his response and turned heading toward her building entrance. Before entering into the building she looked back waving to him one more before she disappeared into her building.

Her night was eventful to say the least but she met a nice guy out of it, though something told her she would probably not be seeing him again. Sad to say but something just felt like it was true. Heading up the steps and down the hall she was finally in her apartment and into her kitchen. Calling her boss "I won't make it tonight I was nearly attacked but I will be in tomorrow a little earlier then usual to start my shift to make up for tonight and I will work till closing as well," listening to her boss she said more into the phone before hanging up. "Time for a shower," She muttered to herself as she skipped off to clean the sweat and dirt from her little panic marathon she had when that person or what ever it was tried to attack her.

Entering her room she turned to the left walking toward the entrance then disappearing into the bathroom as usual she didn't waste anytime and stripped her clothing off hopping into the shower. Once done she headed back into her room drying off before she slipped into a pair of blue short shorts and a thin strap top. Walking out into the hall then into her living room she crossed the room exiting out onto her balcony, walking across it she leaned over the concrete edge looking out at the town and over to the creepy church she hated to pass when leaving for work everyday.



Person :: Lucien :: & :: Alone ::
Place :: Walking home :: & :: In her apartment ::
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OOC: If I missed anyone, just tell me.
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                At last, some sort of frown had emerged on Mary's face. Her body had tightened, her fists were clenched and she grit her teeth. She most certainly did not allow anyone to speak to her this way. This was the first time a pitiful human had addressed her in such a disrespectful manner. Much less was she going to take this from someone she planned on slitting open.
                "Do not test me, wench!" She snarled at Rhava. She had quite enough of this gritty woman and was beginning to grow tired of her attitude. Mary acknowledge that this was her fault, yes it was fun for the time being, but she had toyed too much with her pretty little snack. As she was about to take a step forward, she stopped at the sound of Karl's voice. Due to her anger, she didn't respond imidiately. She didn't want to be rude to the man and decided to calm down before opening her mouth. She would dispose of Rhava later, slowly but surely. Locking the girl up, beating her until her body was nothing but a pile of bruises, cutting the dear's body up with razors with a slow and steady stride sound like the perfect start. But for now, it was best to pay antention to her fellow kindred.

                A smile slowly crept back into Mary's face with each word Karl uttered. She wondered how his cold fingers would feel against her skin. It had been far too long that she had been surrounded by fellow kindred. It was a trust thing.
                "Brave man...and that sounds quite delightful." She gave him a nod and as she did a bubbly blonde man had appeared.
                "Another one?" Mary wondered if the boy was another von Goethe. Karl's movements were so fast, she barely had time to realize what had happened. "Sunyi gazember..." She shot Tizzy a glare, clearly not one bit amused by what he had done. The childe, suprisingly, took what she had thought rightfully hers. Mary's little lamb was "polluted", but that wouldn't stop her. Mary was bent on torturing Rhava and there was little that could stop her from doing so. She was more than glad when she saw Vermillion kick him, but she would've liked to do it herself.
                "By the looks of it, I'm much obliged." was her response.

                Some left, Heinrich included, but more guests appeared. One of them not exactly invited.
                "Piszok..." She muttered at the sight of the dhampire. His words were so irritating, they felt like nails on a chalkboard. The Von Goethes clearly shared the same disdain for the half-breed as they shared more than a few words with the mutt. Mary was at the point that she had a little too much "excitement" in one night, if that were ever possible.

                Barely a moment had passed and the stillness that had at last filled the church end.Mary closed her eyes, running her fingers through her hair and massaging her head lightly. It took a moment, but she began feeling weak, tired, a sense of agony engulfing her very being. Her soul, if you could even call it that, felt conflicted. Her eyes flickered opened at the reverberating sound of Heinrich's voice with a loud gasp. Mary clutched her chest as she watched the events unfold, lips curling at the end. The sight and smell of the dhampire's was completely invigorating. Her heart began to race. The woman had mixed feelings, terrified and allured all at once.
                "Brilliant." Mary said once the spectacle had end. She had never experienced anything like it before. No such thing as too much excitement in one night,



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                                                  Vermillion placed a thumb on his temple, rubbing in small circles. "Proper care for the girl.. for now at any rate. That one has quite the attitude." He paused briefly."I appreciate the offer, dear brother, however I can't foresee our Mary taking too kindly to a change in plans. She will remain with me until she has recovered her strength. After she is Mary's to do as she so chooses."

                                                  Vermillion's fingers drifted from his temple, and he turned to return Alto's smile. "Why thank you, Alto." He cooed softly, a sly smile playing on his lips as he took the man's hand within his own, squeezing tightly. "I naturally cling to power, Alto. Politics were bound to happen at some point." Vermillion took a slow step, circling around the blonde as he spoke allowing his fingers to graze slowly by Alto's own as he released the stiff handshake. Vermillion found such formalities awkward to say the least. Hugging the most so. Vermillion wouldn't be caught dead doing such a human action. He had long since abandoned that side of his humanity.

                                                  "No, they are not members of my council." Vermillion's smile had vanished now. "The only member of my council that remains is Aiden. The second suffered her Final Death to a series of unfortunate events involving the Sabbat." Vermillion cocked his head playfully. "You do remember my Progeny, do you not?" He gave out a slight chuckle. "Isn't she the same as always?" He danced around Alto, studing every inch of the man. It had been far too long since they were last together. Vermillion was curious. Curious to how he had changed, and curious at what remained the same. "But her loyalty to me has never wavered all these years."

                                                  Vermillions curiosity grew ever stronger as Alto spoke to him. "A thirst?" A sly smile slowly crept onto his face and he quickly crossed what little distance remained between the two. "Are you feeling that thirst now, brother?" He cooed slyly, wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders, and running a few long, cold fingers through the honey coloured strands of hair that fell against Alto's Jawline. " Blood which does little to satisfy the hunger growing deep within you.." Vermillion hissed quietly. " I too share this thirst. Among other things." Vermillion paused for a moment, leaning against Alto's back. "Tell me, Dear brother," Vermillion began, running a lone finger along the man's jawbone, and trailing down to his neck. "How do you satiate your hunger?"

                                                  Vermillion's smile sunk ever so slightly as he began his tale, but he remained silent. Vermillion's lips soon pressed into a firm line and he backed off of Alto, releasing his playful grip. Vermillion walked around Alto, placing his hands firmly onto his shoulders and pressing his forehead against his brothers. "Speak of this nevermore." Vermillion hissed almost inaudibly. "Even walls have ears." Vermillion removed himself, quickly grabbing hold of Alto's hand, and dragged him across the room. He stopped momentarily at a thick iron door and punched in a series of numbers before it slid open without much complaint. He pulled the blonde into his sleeping Chamber quickly and the door slammed shut behind them. Vermillion dropped his hand and approached the Candles that lay scattered across the room, withdrawing the trusty zippo he kept within his jacket, and lighting one candle and picking it up. There was a long moment of silence, until Vermillion had lit most of the candles within the room, save the tall Candles which lay atop his Coffin.

                                                  At least here they could speak in utter privacy. Vermillion had taken great care while constructing his sleeping chambers. 5 feet of Solid steel surrounded room, and then some. It was literally an impenetrable safe room. Living so long had not given Vermillion a lack of enemies. He had gained quite a few during his rise to Sheriff.

                                                  "You have committed Diablerie on your teacher?" Vermillion's eyebrows pressed into a thoughtful frown. "Is this the only one, or have there been more?" Vermillion's tone was hushed, but concern etched deep in his voice. He paused for a moment taking in Alto's reply.

                                                  "You know, I've always suspected our sire to have committed Diablerie." Vermillion began. "The clans generally take up the same powers as their sires. However you, my sweet Alto, were much different than me." He continued, pressing his chin into a ball of curled fingers, and taking a seat on top of his black coffin. "I kept it to myself, and honestly, I have never questioned him about it. Could you imagine if I had accused him of such a thing!" Vermillion let out a slightly hysteric laugh. "I would have been Ended right then and there!" Vermillions eyes darted to stare intently at Alto. "But this thirst of yours, unfortunate as it may be, It relates to my own. I too have restrictions on those I must feed upon. All other blood remains tasteless, bitter, and utterly repulsive. I have learned over the years that this is a common trait of Venture." Vermillion paused, deep within thought. "Although I have never had anything physically turn to ash.." Vermillion silently cursed himself for leaving the Book Of Nod on the Altar high above them on the main floor of the church. He was sure it might give him some form of reference to work from. "Perhaps his Blood has mutated within you?" Vermillion stood to approach Alto, tilting the boy's chin up with the tip of his finger. "Or perhaps you have inherited something very... Interesting... from our father." Vermillion fought back a sly smile as he spoke.

                                                  Location: Under St. Augustine
                                                  Activity: Speaking in private With Alto.
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User Image► Eric Perkins
[ 0 1 : 4 0 A M ]


Eric had been nearly entranced by her beauty. It took him an honest effort to shake Chloe's face out of his head, absentmindedly strolling in the dark early morning that was Faust. Still, he had been entranced by a beautiful woman before. Shrugging the feeling off, he passed by the church. For it being so late, there seemed to be a small group of people standing in front of it. St. Augustine? he thought to himself.

Must be a youth group meeting... While he couldn't tell what they were, he made it a point to keep his hand on the taser he had.

The song on his phone ended and he pulled it out, checking the time & to see if he had missed any messages and noticed he was missing a call. Eric didn't recognize the number. He checked the time, and noted it must've been during the show that they had called. They also bothered not to leave a voicemail. How did I miss that?

He tapped the number on the screen and let the phone dial for him, keeping his headphones in and adjusting the cord so the microphone was out of his jacket. It rang once, and a strikingly confident voice picked up the phone.

"Ah, Eric old boy. Good job on calling me back," the voice said. Eric couldn't tell who it was.

"Uh, I'm sorry. Do I know you?" he replied. His brow furrowed as he listened. There was a sound of plates, rustling and such. What the..? he thought, and the man seemed distracted before responding.

"Oh no, no, you don't. Your grandpappy does. As did your late father. Shame about that, really." Eric felt his forehead get hot. He waited instead of saying anything in return, too surprised to handle a reply. "I wanted to let you know though, love what you've done with the place. Seems to be nice and quaint... perfect for a man like you."

"My.. wait, what? My home? You're in my home?" Eric was still fifteen minutes away from making it home. And that was with his brisk pace at this point. The voice on the other end of the line seemed to laugh, bemused, and he heard something crash & shatter in the background.

"Oops. Heh, poopsy, do hurry home soon. You and I have just so much to talk about."

And with that, the line went dead. His music picked up again from where it left off, and his mind went racing. What did this guy want? Money? To harm what family he had left?

All Eric could do was continue nearly power-walking down the road, keep his eyes from wandering over the architecture of the second church and pray that whatever the sound was breaking in the background wasn't something expensive.
Sir Metzgermeister 's avatar

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”Spewing vile atrocities!
Bringing existence to its knees,"


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Heinrich Willhelm von Goethe

Heinrich knelt down beside the pool of blood and dragged a gloved finger through the welter of the dhampir's gore. He raised his finger from the pool and brought it to his lips, dripping with incarnadine blood. He closed his eyes for a moment as he ran his tongue across the tip of his finger and tasted the blood upon it. He opened his eyes and rose.

"It tastes filthy. Like mud."

Heinrich snorted slightly and wiped the last speckles of blood onto the inside of his overcoat where they would not be noticeable. His boots were already covered in the dhampir's remains, there was no need for Heinrich's appearance to be soiled further. In fact, he would probably have to find new clothes. He couldn't stand the idea of smelling like the dhampir, even in the least bit. The thought made him somewhat nauseous. Or perhaps that was just the filthy blood he had just ingested...He had never tried the blood of a freak before, and he decided that he would not be trying it anytime again in the future. Absolutely revolting. It positively oppressed his pallet in ways he did not care to linger upon.

Heinrich spoke, his voice was quiet and he was not sure that he'd be heard. He wasn't particularly attached to the outcome.


"Mary..."

A manic smile spread across his face.

"Did you enjoy this evening's performance?'"



"I will manifest my sins,
I will kill mercy within."
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"I can make you do things you wouldn't even imagine...

Alto smiled at the mention of Aiden "Still the lost childe scrambling all over the place to please it's parents feed for approval. Has she done anything to warrant it yet? The poor creature does try so so hard." He suppressed a laugh at that comment. He had always viewed Aiden as a little to timid.

Alto raised his hand and ran his fingers lightly along Maxwell's hand. His fingers were soft and supple easily moving down the length of Maxwell's arm and finally resting on his chest. His smile had returned at his brothers teasing although they were hollow. He opened his mouth only very slightly to speak and as he spoke he walked closer to his brother until Maxwell could no doubt feel Alto's breath on his cheek.

Alto waited for his brothers musing to be done and his smile briefly turned into a frown, and then back to a smile. "I have been questioning that very fact for years now. Perhaps that's why he took me on as a second childe then?" His hand slowly moved up to Maxwell's neck and into his long hair. He always admired how well the man looked after his own appearance. Alto tilted his head a little forward and rested his temple on Maxwell's.

"If that is the case then maybe something about my studies triggered it. My last teacher was a very strange one before his final death. He liked to use his own blood to help the learning process. While I'm happy to say it worked to a degree I think that may also be what triggered whatever was lying dormant. Just imagine how scandalous it would be if our master did indeed practice Diablerie. I'm surprised we didn't know anything if that's the case though."


A little bit of a pout came to Alto's face. "But that unfortunately doesn't really solve my problem at this point. I have fed off of many kindred without killing them and each time have used a different guise to ensure my reputation stayed intact. I feel that doing that is taking far to much risk. I need somebody who knows my condition that I can feed off of."

His smile returned and he brought his hand down from Maxwell's hair to his shoulder. "I warn you though brother. I will help you because we go back and because I owe you. Use me to much though and I will disappear at the moment you most need me. I will allow you the control that knowing my secret can grant you, no more, no less. If you want a dog get a Ghoul. They're cheap."


"yet all of it pales in comparison to the love of another."

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