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 Posted: Thu Jul 28, 2016 9:19 pm
& IT'S SHOWTIME
│CREATED BY nowSERENITY
│· Saxon City Central. Unused underground parking garage.
│· A rave in neutral territory, thrown by a junkie socialite.
│· Closed thread.
│· Kaede & Ashling.
│· Flashback thread. Hate at first sight.
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Posted: Sat Jul 30, 2016 4:15 pm
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He'd almost ignored the call when the name came flashing across the screen, and Ashling now fervently wished that he had, even with the promise of oh, so many dollars hanging there like the proverbial carrot. The thumping bass was so loud that it was immediately clear the local police had been paid off. Because underground or not-- unused or not-- the way the peace was being disturbed should have brought uniforms flying out of the dark in their crummy little Interceptors. It wasn't as though the place was a secret. Not with the way some intrepid graffito had decked walls, ceiling, and concrete pillars in dripping swaths of neon paint. Flourescent demons grinned down over the writhing masses, and as the vampire strode closer he had to admit a grudging respect for the artist, who had seemingly planned each hellish figure so meticulously that the contortions of their limbs changed depending on the angle from which they were approached.
Or maybe that was just the obligatory obnoxious strobe lights that flashed off of every surface, turning those assembled into a hideous stop-motion project. Hardly the place Ashling wanted to be on a Friday night-- mingling with every type of rabble, and every one of them gyrating madly against the next stranger, trying to assign some measure of worth to their puny, short lives by making as many mistakes as possible in one sitting. It took every ounce of his professionalism not to sneer his disgust at them outright. His wallet, on the other hand, was about to get thick and hard. So at least they served some purpose. And on an even brighter side, maybe Darwin would get to claim a few of them tonight.
"Here he comes~ The man of the hour~"
The body that broke away from the throng looked, even through the fishnet and white vinyl, like it had only ever bathed in glitter. To say nothing of the hair, which flipped up in a platinum sweep shot through with bright pink. Somewhere, somehow, a flamingo had ******** a cockatoo on the set of a David Bowie music video, and the result sauntered toward Ashling on platform heels, making spirit-fingers with both hands.
The brunette's own greeting was a bit more subdued.
"Vanya." As he side-stepped her attempt at an embrace, which no doubt would have been followed by ridiculous air kisses. The vampire's expression never warmed, never even flickered with familiarity, even though this was hardly the first gathering this cockatoo had called him to "cater" for. Vanya Ykatyrinovna was known throughout most of Saxon City as the only daughter of an elderly internet mogul, but one didn't need to be part of the seedy underbelly to also know that she treated life like one big popularity contest, or that most of her "friends" were around solely for the bashes like this one. Massive, classless raves and orgies were the elf's idea of bonding experiences, and she had shelled out probably close to a hundred thousand dollars over the last three years to buy Ashling's stock and contract the brunette to "serve refreshments." It meant staying while the parties raged and inevitably turned to vomit puddles, but it also meant a substantial augmentation of his bank accounts. And privately, the vampire had an even more personal stake in accepting Vanya's calls: He desperately wanted to be around when the simpering little moron finally overdosed.
"Vanya.." ******** crest wobbling while she screwed up her face to mock him, trying to pitch her tone low to meet the effortless growl that was Ashling's speaking voice.
A trust fund kid with a Keith Richards-esque drug habit by any other name.. would still be just as ******** annoying. The elf's mouth made a little moue of disappointment, and she folded her fishnet adorned arms over breasts that were all but bare-- electrical tape Xs on her nipples notwithstanding. It was a fairly typical expression of mock-displeasure on her part. One that almost always was followed by--
"I can't believe you'd treat me this way after I invited you--"
"You invited Sarkic*. There is a difference." And he kept moving, long legs striding along the edge of the crowd, avoiding most of the groping couples as he focused on the tent at the farthest end from the stereo speakers. It was a condition of his involvement that this little dim-bulb provide an adequate facility, which was laughable. Because what Vanya inevitably provided was the kind of tent you put out in the yard when you wanted to get married without paying for a venue. Except it had, at some point, been tie-dyed and decked with paper lanterns. And someone-- probably someone stoned, let's get real-- had scrawled the words FREE CANDY across the awning. Frankly, Ashling thought it looked like s**t on toast, but for what he was being paid tonight he could overlook it. At least he was as far as possible from the source of their ridiculous "music."
Surprisingly, for all the idiocy of her platform heels and much shorter legs, Vanya was still nipping along behind him.
"--and that's why I brought in the other guy--"
Other guy? Ashling heard, but didn't bother pausing. Just swept through the tent flap, expecting to find what he usually found: an empty space for him to dose whoever came in looking to be reduced to an even more puerile state. Instead, there was some hideous little lunch table set out in the very center of the room, dividing it down the center. And he didn't even bother to look to see whether someone else was there before he rounded on Vanya, who had followed him through the doorway as fast as her vinyl pants would allow. The sheer height of him was fairly intimidating, but the way Ashling's hand shot out to catch the woman by the jaw, long fingers digging in at the hinge just enough to threaten dislocation, was an effortless threat of violence. The equivalent of a movie villian giving a good-natured chuckle before shooting someone point-blank.
And for once in her useless, mewling life, the cockatoo kept her ******** mouth shut.
"Listen close, you pointy-eared little c**t." Velvet over steel, the purr that he gave against the side of her face. Fangs bared by the sneer that turned Ashling's so-generous lips cruel. There was the promise of messy murder in the words, and the predator in him had a deep appreciation for the way Vanya froze, shuddered, shivered. "I get the impression that you think we're friends, and because your money has bought me several Tom Ford suits in the last year I have generously chosen not to disabuse you of that notion, no matter how abhorrent it is to me. But if you've decided to balls all that up by-- say-- trying to à la carte your illicit substances between two different gangs.. You're going to find yourself paying me not to use your narrow, lopsided a** as an umbrella stand. "
Of course, it was about then that Vanya's eyes-- wide and bright purple and already dilated from whatever she'd been doing before Ashling arrived-- cut to the left, toward the other side of the tent. And when the brunette followed that nervous glance, he let out the long-suffering sigh of someone who'd been forced to deal with a particularly stupid child.
Because the b***h really had treated the situation like she was just booking catering, and the other "chef" was already right there.
OOC: *Sarkic is a blood-based drug I just flung in here, since I don't know if we have any established already in the guild universe. Essentially, I see Sarkic as a typical "feel-good" drug, similar to MDMA in that it provokes feelings of euphoria and inclination toward arousal. It's the warm-apple-pie-orgy of blood-based drugs.. until the come down, where you basically puke yourself blind for a few hours. I name it Sarkic because.
Also, feel free to make use of Vanya as a NPC. She is basically what would happen if you crossbred Lindsay Lohan with Paris Hilton and Mona Lisa from Parks & Rec.
Also, also, sorry to write this with the assumption that Kae is already there. If he wouldn't be, let me know and I'll rework this.
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Posted: Sun Jul 31, 2016 11:09 pm
 ❝i wanna ℓσѵє ץσυ, but something's ρυℓℓιɳɢ ɱє αωαץ from you..
jesus is ɱץ ѵιяȶυє, judas is the ɗєɱσɳ i cling to..❞ If Kaede could be called anything besides a brat, a runt, an idiot, a nuisance-- Okay, so he can be dubbed a lot of things, but his title of 'lucky b*****d' is probably the most noteworthy (at least to him). The fact that the boy still breathes to this day is a miracle and a proof of divine blessing in itself. Keeping with his lucky track record, good fortune found him again early this week when a fellow Ghost member approached their junior and offered a job proposition for the upcoming weekend. Something about another dealer having gotten a call but couldn't commit due to prior engagements. Before the other gangster could fully explain all the details, Kaede was eagerly accepting. He didn't care if he had to shave his head or sell a kidney, he needed some money. The past few weeks had been rough for him, and he was falling behind on this month's quota. If this dry patch continued the teen would definitely not be able to pay rent or even eat; the thought of having to go without a bag of discounted store brand cheese puffs was absolutely terrifying.
So, Kaede finds himself with a drawstring bag full of every illegal substance he had sitting around his apartment and a weathered piece of paper with a smudged address on it. He was going to be basically catering at a rave tonight, a big bash hosted by some rich b***h named Vanya Ykatyrinovna. His superiors had insisted that this was a big deal and that he had better not ******** up, but the teen couldn't understand their urgency. What could be so important about a silly party? When Kaede arrives at the location, he frowns in confusion. Surely this rave couldn't be hosted in...is this a parking garage? Through his uncertainty, the boy doesn't have time to appreciate the intricate designs spray-painted on the concrete walls. His attention is promptly drawn to the deep bass and flashing lights inside the structure. Uneasily, he steps forward and enters the decrepit parking garage.
Immediately, Kaede is approached by some bubbly thing with pointed ears. Could this be Vanya? But, he had expected someone more...refined? Whenever someone mentioned elves, the teen had always assumed them to appear ethereal and collected. Certainly not bouncing around with exposed breasts and revealing vinyl pants...The coon catches himself staring and quickly looks away when Vanya stands before him. She's all smiles, probably already high off her a**, as she introduces herself. "I'm Kaede. The Ghost dealer," he mutters, trying not to notice how fruity and alluring the elf smells. Luckily, Vanya doesn't even bat a lash at the boy's obvious awkwardness; the darkness is a godsend as it hides the crimson hint to his pale cheeks. The vivacious hostess merely gestures for Kaede to follow as she leads him around to some shady tent with "FREE CANDY" scribbled across it. The boy manages an amused chuckle through his overwhelming nerves. Inside the tent, Vanya gives a scattered explanation of how this thing works, apparently coherent enough to realise that this is Kaede's first stint. He nods, understanding just enough. And with that, Vanya disappears through the tent flaps and leaves the teen alone with his bag full of "candy".
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Except, everything doesn't go that smoothly. It isn't long before Vanya returns to the tent. Kaede perks up from picking at his nails, expecting to see the vibrant elf sparkling in the dim light, but instead his eyes land on some lanky thing with an aura so intimidating it makes the coon want to hide. He stiffens and clenches his jaw to hold back any pathetic whimpers that threaten to escape. Is this guy here for drugs? No, definitely not. Tall, dark, and pissed off has to be another dealer. That polished look, chiseled cheekbones, prominent smell of death...wait, is that a vampire? What the ******** one told Kaede that a vampire would be here. He was under the assumption that this was some party held by an elf for other fun-loving races -- obviously not including broody bloodsuckers. Did vampires even go to raves? Did vampires know how to have fun? It's apparent this one doesn't by the way he swiftly turns on Vanya's small form and, a blink later, is grasping her jaw menacingly. Kaede cowers as if he were in the elf's position. Nope, it was such a bad idea to come here. Not even three month's worth of rent is worth this s**t. Dealing drugs to stupid ravers? No problem. Being within a one mile radius of a vampire? That is a deal-breaker, no questions asked.
Even with the echoes of the music and the vampire's hushed tone, Kaede catches '...two different gangs...' and instinctively freezes. Wait, that means-- oh hell no. This a*****e is from Blood Nation. The coon shoots out of his seat and stands there with eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. His racing heart tells him to just bolt out of here, that no amount of money is worth dealing drugs alongside a Blood Nation cretin. However, the boy's mind whispers about the fat stack of cash that he will be swimming in by the end of this. He clenches and unclenches his hands, the leather covering his palms squeaking under the movement.
Against his better judgement, Kaede wills his feet to work and practically stumbles toward the other two in the tent. At this point, Vanya and the vampire simultaneously look in the teen's direction. He stops in his tracks, going rigid once more. His mouth feels dry, way too parched to form even a single noise, and his throat clenches. And yet, he's able to find his voice and meekly forces out, "Uh...y-you should...let her go." The words were meant to have more power behind them, but they sound more like an idle suggestion. Every fiber of Kaede's being screams at him to stop, run away, submit, stop being so goddamned stupid. However, the fantasy of being some silly knight in shining armour is too appealing to the poor naive boy. Which is why he tries to meet those icy eyes, but flinches and quickly looks over to Vanya. Okay, well, he tried.
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☾ＷＩＴＨ⇀Vanya & an a*****e xxxx☾ＷＨＥＲＥ⇀FREE CANDY tent xxxx☾ＷＥＡＲＩＮＧ⇀rave disaster
{[ ooc; let me know if this is okay! i took some creative freedom with how kaede ended up there,
since i didnt think vanya would just have a lowly dealer's number.
ALSO, sorry i took so long to reply;;;; ]}
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Posted: Mon Aug 01, 2016 8:07 am
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Ashling certainly hadn't expected much when he'd realized Vanya's candidate for this episode of Iron Chef was going to be just some grungy Ghost member. But as his ice blues slid across the tent to pin the kid in place, the vampire was even less impressed than he'd been before. He personally considered most other races to be little more than children, even at the best of times, but this was ridiculous. The boy couldn't have been more than sixteen from the size of him, and the sheer lack of conviction in his voice made it seem like his balls were still tucked up inside his body. One flick of Ashling's gaze from hair to heel-- a short trip-- was enough for him to decide that the kid had been dressed in the dark, probably by his mother. If the woman was still alive, that was, and hadn't run off the nearest office building to escape the obvious disappointment that was her progeny. Either way, it was a depressing ensemble, and one of the brunette's brows arched skeptically at the shirt, which looked like the place Trix cereal went to die.
All the while, Vanya was standing there still in his grip, the delicate curve of her jaw held in deceptively elegant hands. With such a small amount of pressure, Ashling could have unhinged it to leave her in excruciating pain. And a perverse part of him was tempted to do it just to show the stammering little runt standing there in front of them exactly who was in charge. But, of course, the glittering socialite was a walking change-purse, and Ashling had only very rarely burned bridges. Even more rarely when those bridges were made of money.
So his palms slid along the sides of her throat, providing a slight pressure that made her eyes go hazy for just a second-- Ah, was that the game? He'd never pegged her for asphyxiation, but the grain of knowledge was something he filed away nonetheless-- before they smoothed over Vanya's shoulders, holding the elf in place. And just like that, the older man was ignoring the other dealer in the room completely, brushing him off as a non-threat. A non-entity.
"You know what happens when you put me in a temper. "
Not an apology. Never that. The words had a chiding quality that held only the faintest measure of play, but the crest of Vanya's hair bobbed with how quick she was to nod in response. It was all in which buttons to push. The elf was a bank account with legs, and she was accustomed to getting what she wanted without any difficulty. Not surprising that she took so well to a bit of discipline. Ashling could practically smell how well, in fact. To the woman's credit, at least she didn't try to say she was sorry. She just hung there for a second, a little dazed-- probably with the help of whatever she'd already pumped into her system-- and startled slightly when the hands on her shoulders turned her around to push her back out of the tent.
"Now. Go find someone to ******** while I take care of the trash."
And only once she was gone did the vampire turn his full attention on the little miscreant still sharing the tent with him. Ashling didn't close the distance, the way he had just moments before with Vanya. The boy in front of him was supposedly a member of a "rival" gang, but that didn't really play into his decision making. After all, the mop-topped little child didn't look anything like a threat, and Ghost as a gang was a joke in the brunette's opinion, regardless of how many members they had. Burn-outs and junkies, most of them.
No, the reason Ashling didn't lay hands on the brat was even simpler: He found everything about the boy to be varying levels of disgusting.
Instead, his tall frame circled the smaller one, striding slow and easy to take a full tour of what was in front of him. A mess, honestly. Had this runt ever even seen a hairbrush? The vampire's hands slipped into the pockets of the long coat he wore, eyes narrowing as he made another circuit, forcing the child to turn if he wanted to keep Ashling in sight. It was a method the man had used often in his more legitimate occupation, because it gave the center of the circle an impression of being surrounded.
"So Ghost recruits twelve-year-olds now. That's new."
When he finally came to a halt, it was slightly to the boy's left, making no concession to keep him balanced. The expression on Ashling's face had slipped again into indifference. Like the other dealer was the sentient equivalent of watching paint dry.
"Get out of here, kid. I'm sure you have homework."
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OOC: No worries at all! It's totally fine. Also, Kaede is so cute I almost feel bad about how mean Ash is going to be to him all the time. XD
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2016 11:29 pm
❝i wanna ℓσѵє ץσυ, but something's ρυℓℓιɳɢ ɱє αωαץ from you..
jesus is ɱץ ѵιяȶυє, judas is the ɗєɱσɳ i cling to..❞ Under the deadly scrutiny of the vampire, Kaede remains absolutely motionless. While those lifeless eyes pierce through his very being, he forgets to breathe, doesn't remember where he is or who he is. The only thought that crosses the boy's mind is the primitive urge to obey. His pathetic murmur seems to go completely unnoticed, as if he hadn't uttered a single noise at all. Which, seeing as how the older man grips Vanya's jaw, maybe Kaede should be thankful about being ignored. The paralysing effect of that icy gaze probably only lasts mere seconds, but it feels like an eternity to the coon, and as soon as he is released from its possession, he sucks in a deep breath.
The conversation between the posh b*****d and Vanya is too quiet and relatively unimportant from Kaede's perspective, so he catches none of it. However, he does take a moment to ponder how this vampire is able to get away with manhandling the supposedly rich and influential elf. Are these two close somehow? The boy scrunches up his face at the thought of there being...something between the two. Who would ever want to be anything with a ******** corpse? Before Kaede's mind can keep wandering, Vanya is suddenly exiting the tent and leaving the two dealers alone. It doesn't take long for the small boy to come under that contempt stare once more, and he instinctively freezes. A heartbeat later and the walking corpse is closer, not quite too close, but just close enough.
This is it. This is where he finally dies. Not battling off hordes of zombies or saving a princess. In a ******** tent advertising "free candy" at a stupid rave in an abandoned parking garage.
Kaede will die a virgin.
All the coon can do is stare straight ahead, unable to even swivel his head to follow the vampire as he circles his prey. Kaede forgets to breathe again, purses his lips too tightly together, clenches his tiny fingers into white fists, feels a knot forming at the base of his neck from the tension. This is such a ******** pathetic way to go. He literally feels like a deer in headlights, blinded by gut-wrenching terror and some innate compulsion to just accept the sweet embrace of death. But maybe if he doesn't play the predator's game, he'll live another day? Or what if he were to play dead? Nonetheless, even if he does want to do something, he just can't. The boy's body won't respond to any of his demands to move, don't let that a*****e out of your sight, why is he walking around me, what is he doing.
That is, until the vampire speaks up. Something in those words breaks the spell keeping Kaede paralysed. As soon as the insult drips from that a*****e's mouth, the teen snaps his head over to flash a defiant glare. Fortunately, the look on the other dealer's face is no longer threatening. It's a glance that Kaede is used to, one of disinterest and maybe even a bit of disgust. He can deal with contempt. "I'm nineteen," Kaede practically hisses, his hands still balled into (now agitated) fists. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'm being paid to do something, and I intend to do it," he goes on with a forced air of maturity. How dare this p***k insinuate that he's a child. The coon knows that he can't be anywhere near as old as the vampire -- he's probably, like, ******** ancient -- but that doesn't mean he's any less of an adult.
With a very dignified huff, Kaede crosses his arms to show how determined he is to not budge. "Really, you should be the one leaving. Aren't vampires allergic to fun?" Good one, Kaede.
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☾ＷＩＴＨ⇀a vampire a*****e xxxx☾ＷＨＥＲＥ⇀FREE CANDY tent xxxx☾ＷＥＡＲＩＮＧ⇀rave disaster
{[ ooc; LMAO ash isnt the first nor will he be the last character to bully poor lil kae ]}
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Posted: Wed Aug 03, 2016 8:54 am
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The fear was so thick, he could have taken a bite.
And it played merry ******** havoc on his senses, which insisted that the very best course of action would be to take the boy by the waist and force him onto the table. Curl a hand tight into the ridiculous mop of his hair and push his face to the side, bare the column of his throat. So small, so helpless, but he'd struggle, wouldn't he? Oh, yes. Delusions of being a criminal, but the fear would make him squirm and fight, because that's what prey always did when it was trying to stay alive. And the hummingbird beat of that heart, fluttering fast against Ashling's tongue when the life spilled out of him. Slowing, stilling, the glowing heat of his existence swallowed. Stolen. ********, to taste all that fear. To cause it so effortlessly, and then draw the full flavor of it out from this boy's veins. It was so tempting. So perfectly possible. All it would take was one push.
Instead, the brunette curled the hands in his pockets into tight fists. Clenched down until his nails bit sharp crescents into his palms. A small pain, but distracting enough to break through the fog of instinct and let him access reason once more. Everything about the child in front of him was repulsive. He was nothing, no one, a baby without the faintest concept of how the world worked. That was why the runt was so afraid. Why his fear had peaked so quickly, and brought the vampire right to the edge of impulse. But Ashling was better than that-- far better. Instinct was one thing, but he was more.. Civilized. Cultured. For ******** sake, he was wearing a two-thousand dollar suit! He certainly wasn't going to imperil everything he'd ever worked for just because some gutter urchin had no spine. No way would Ashling ever be imprudent enough to sink fang into something so disgusting. A member of Ghost, no less. Probably a junkie. The blood equivalent of a greasy, artery-clogging burger. Certainly not fine dining. The vampire was a good asset, but if he behaved like a beast he'd be put down like one by the higher ups in the Blood Nation. And it would be no less than he deserved.
Because he'd been watching the runt with eyes that narrowed down to thin slits of ice, making the boy the center of his focus. And the way Ashling's mouth curved, a smirk that was all predatory intent, was unsettling at best. How long had the brunette had been staring at the other dealer like he meant to ******** him raw and bloody? Ugh. This whole situation was quickly becoming a s**t-show. If the kid couldn't grow some balls in the next ten seconds, it was Ashling who would have to go. No amount of money was worth getting his fangs ripped out.
Luckily, it's at that moment that the boy decided to show some steel.
"If you're nineteen, I'm a fairy." Clearly, not the case. The man was the ******** poster child for vampirism, long dark coat and all. But the trade of low-grade insults was grounding, so he kept it up as he took up a place at the table-- as far from the supposed adult as possible. Better not to menace the little coward and set off another flash of panic. "When did Ghost make you a dealer? Right after seventh grade?"
Out of his pockets, Ashling drew a series of small vials, each with an eye-dropper top in a different shade. Red, Black, Yellow. For his part, these seemed to be the only inventory he was carrying-- and with good reason. Even this small volume of Sarkic was enough to dose most of the guests two times over. Not that that was a particularly good idea. Even if it wouldn't have turned them all into a tangle of limbs while they tried to mate the nearest surface, the come-down would have likely been very close to deadly. Of course they were only vermin, so the loss would be minimal, but without a teeming populace of drug-hungry morons Ashling's coffers-- and those of the Blood Nation-- would suffer.
Just like that, he was back to ignoring the boy's presence. Back to his right mind, without the driving desires and impulses that always rose in him when people were particularly afraid. He might not have even turned around if the child hadn't tried his own quip.
"That this is your idea of "fun" really does say a lot about the quality of your imagination." Drawling, the bored tone of one who knows better and can't believe they must stoop to explaining themselves. "That, or the breadth of your experience."
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OOC: Uh. Something tells me I forgot to mention Ashling's fear complication. [ Cough. ]
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Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2016 12:50 pm
❝i wanna ℓσѵє ץσυ, but something's ρυℓℓιɳɢ ɱє αωαץ from you..
jesus is ɱץ ѵιяȶυє, judas is the ɗєɱσɳ i cling to..❞ Any ounce of threadbare courage Kaede had managed to scrounge up swiftly dissipates when an overwhelming presence of malice sweeps through the tent. The sharp look of fiery defiance that had managed to ignite in the boy's grey eyes is snuffed out with one glance of that dominating glower. It's all replaced with that instinctual fear, the will to live easily pried from his body. Kaede really isn't a fighter (nor is he a lover). He's a pathetically weak coward through and through. It's a part of himself that he came to terms with at an early age when he realised that he will never amount to anything more than slums trash. No matter what the coon does, he will always stink of filth and carry the acidic taste of inferiority in his mouth. He pretends that he can be something greater, work hard to make a name for himself, finally have enough money to eat some decent food. But, the painful reality of that desperate idealism is almost palpable under the thick aura of this vampire. It sinks into the boy's gut again, the line of his mouth pressing downwards as he tastes something sickening in his throat. Is this really worth the money? The taunting torture and the disgusting pleasure the other man seems to get from this...Is it worth the humiliation, the discomfort-- no, the pain? The fear of death?
And just like that, the vampire breaks through Kaede's horror-clouded mind with those half-hearted quips. He may be reading into this all a bit much, but the coon can tell that the bloodsucker would much rather be causing physical pain than wasting his energy with these petty insults. Vampires are predators, sadists, monsters. The only creatures worse than those ******** are ghouls. At least vampires have some semblance of humanity. Ghouls, in Kaede's experience, are nothing but absolute nut-cases with a complete disregard for everything. Even a ghoul's food and playthings (which are often one and the same) are treated like worthless trash, tossed about and devoured mercilessly, sometimes consumed while still conscious. And ghouls tend to not discriminate when choosing their prey. Vampires, on the other hand, are picky and meticulous. Kaede finds a small amount of comfort in the fact that his blood is probably less than satisfactory for the immortal man. Even being in the same room as his soiled blood is likely revolting, and the boy can't help relaxing in relief at that thought.
"At least I'm not an old-geezer," Kaede grumbles back, furrowing his brows in annoyance. Is this vampire going to hang onto that sad-excuse for an insult all night? Aren't his kind supposed to be, like, intelligent? The coon would think that the a*****e would be more creative in his retorts, find something a bit more personal to poke fun at.
Kaede watches through narrowed eyes as the vampire walks to the other end of the table, becoming a bit fuzzy as the distance between them grows. The new space should be comforting, but the boy doesn't like not having a clear view of his predator. Despite the air about the man becoming disinterested once more, Kaede can't completely calm down. How could anyone relax in a situation like this? After all, the boy did witness the vampire effortlessly grab Vanya's jaw -- y'know, the one paying them fat stacks of cash to be here -- and toy with her throat as if she were a blow-up doll. If this a*****e can so carelessly threaten his employer, Kaede doesn't want to even entertain the sick thoughts that the other male probably has about harming the boy. He shivers involuntarily and looks away with a deep breath. With a shaky hand, the coon pulls out a chair and takes a seat, trying not to stare down the table at the growing flock of vials being set up neatly.
Kaede grumbles angrily to himself as he leans over for his backpack. He unceremoniously pulls out a few baggies of dried herbs, and some pill bottles rattle free and roll across the table before the boy darts out a hand to catch them. His sloppy actions contrast greatly against the precise vampire, filling the room with the sound of plastic rustling and pills jostling. Once the contents of his bag have been haphazardly spilled, Kaede begins to idly organise the array of drugs. He glances over at the vampire, still playing with his few vials, and cracks a small smirk.
"Hm, at least I have more to offer than you," Kaede comments with a lofty gesture between their set-ups. He falters a moment, squinting at the vials, and frowns slightly. "Uh...what is...that stuff, anyway? He quickly recovers his arrogance, crossing his arms and giving a huff. "Whatever it is, can't be as good as my ecstasy or enhanced marijuana." Honestly, Kaede's experience with drugs is practically non-existent. Most of the stuff he sells he has never tried once in his life -- quite the contrast to the rampant substance-abuse present among other Ghost members. He's tried pot, some prescription painkillers, Xanax and Adderall, but none of the harder stuff he has on the table. Just the thought of getting ******** up on these drugs, not being under control of himself, it's terrifying.
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☾ＷＩＴＨ⇀a vampire a*****e xxxx☾ＷＨＥＲＥ⇀FREE CANDY tent xxxx☾ＷＥＡＲＩＮＧ⇀rave disaster
{[ ooc; OH GOSH I AM SO SORRY THAT I AM
SUCH A SLOW UNMOTIVATED PIECE OF TURD ; A ; ]}
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Posted: Sun Aug 21, 2016 10:43 am
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The child very clearly didn't know who he was dealing with.
Ashling listened to the boy's grumbled attempts at insulting him, but only half-way, and his expression made it abundantly clear just how little attention he was paying. It was enough that the other dealer's fear had abated some, fading in favor of annoyance. Irritation was fine. Anger was fine. But that anxiety spike-- inexplicably as the vampire drew further away-- was a step in the wrong direction. Clearly, Ash needed to redirect the boy again, or he was never going to get any work done. He couldn't keep getting distracted by this little coward. Certainly couldn't risk allowing the brunette's fear to draw him into circumstances that would inevitably involve punishment. <******** p***k.
Well, at least the kid provided him with endless opportunities to bestow a tongue lashing.
"Oh, good. You know what pricks are for, then." And the quirk of his brow as the mop-topped teen laid out his inventory was even more scathing. From his expression, the child might as well have poured a bag of cow manure onto the table top. Even the little miscreant's sudden cockiness was entirely misplaced. Did he really assume that the quantity of products he'd tumbled from his rucksack was any indication of their quality? But then, he was a member of Ghost-- a gang notorious for its number of burn-outs. "And as with a p***k, more does not always mean longer lasting."
Then again, maybe his assumption that the boy was a junkie was a little off-base. It was laughable that Vanya had contracted someone whose knowledge base seemed so narrow, but then, it didn't actually surprise him. The little cockatoo wasn't much in the brains department, so maybe she'd picked the runt because they matched in that way. Ashling spread one hand in a graceful gesture, indicating his row of vials like a magician performing a trick. Nothing about them changed, but the vampire's expression flickered into something almost pleasant. The charm of a salesman, perhaps, except that it didn't look at all at home on Ashling's face. His features were made for glowering or-- at most-- a feline sort of disinterest. The attempt at engaged cheer was actually a little upsetting to most people who saw it, although they couldn't precisely say why.
"Sarkic." To anyone who knew what the word meant, it would be explanation enough. However, the vampire was nowhere near optimistic enough to believe that the tiny punk in front of him would be one of those people. "It's what people graduate to once they're tired of mundane Ghost s**t."
The way he enunciated was incredibly precise, each consonant crisp, each syllable sharp, even on expletives. After all, diction was done with the tip of the tongue and the teeth-- and my, what sharp teeth Ash had, the fangs flashing when he showed that salesman's smile.
"When they want a few minutes or a few hours of escape, they come to you." Again, that dismissive look at the other dealer's wares. This time paired with a flick of Ashling's hand, as though he were shooing both the boy and his product away. "When they want a day, they lay back for me and I give them three. Little. Drops."
What people often misunderstood about blood-based drugs was that they didn't necessarily need to be needled into a vein. The name was applied more because of what they were made of than for how they were imbibed. Most could be spiked if the client absolutely demanded a faster onset, but for Sarkic that wasn't really required. Three drops-- one from each little bottle there on the table-- onto the tongue or into the eyes was usually enough to reduce even the bulkiest body to a state of euphoric bliss.
And so of course the cattle ate it up.
"Anxiety, gone. Inhibition, gone. An entire twenty-four hour period where they don't have to feel a deep-seated sense of inferiority, or jealousy over a cheating partner, or remorse for something they ruined or lost, or embarrassment for taboo desires. Because for that single day, everything is good and comforting. Every touch is pleasure dialed to eleven. Every taste is the best flavor they've ever known. The world is a beautiful, welcoming, connected place for one. Whole. Day."
Which was why it became so easy for users to get hooked-- especially once the nausea and pain of the comedown hit with full force. After the beauty and euphoria of one perfect day, the price exacted by the body seemed that much worse. The world, which had been so splendid for one perfect day, was a muted shadow of what it had been before. It was like being shut out of Narnia or Neverland, some of his more frequent customers whined. He had to know, didn't he? He dealt the stuff. He had to know how beautiful it made everything.
But Ashling didn't sample. That was part of Blood Nation's policy, and he followed it to the letter-- especially because he saw the drug for what it was. A creative and glorious method of getting all the other races under the rightful vampiric heel, one dose at a time. Let them fall prey to their base desires and ruin themselves with an erroneous vision of Shangri La. Let them believe for one day that there were no consequences for their actions, and then let the whole house of cards come crashing down on them. They woke up to find their lovers had left them because of the indiscriminate orgies of the night before. They woke with new tattoos and new scars and bloated stomachs filled with foods they'd gorged on. Lost their jobs, alienated their families, committed crimes. Ruined their lives.
That was what Ashling had to offer: Ruin in a bottle. But oh, he knew how to sell it. And this time, the curve of his lips was as sly as the first serpent, coiling around the apple it offered to Eve.
"You could always try it. Vanya paid for the lot. I'm just here to administer the dose."
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OOC: You are not! I'm a terrible, slow poster who is mostly motivated to write smut. XD I'm trash.
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