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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| The New Guy in Town; Open | |
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| Topic Started: Thursday, 27. September 2012, 02:41 (1,069 Views) | |
| RobAiken | Thursday, 27. September 2012, 02:41 Post #1 |
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Neonate
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The time was one in the morning on a Friday night with a crisp summer breeze blowing through the London streets as the waning days of summer were coming and the beginning of fall was fast approaching. It was business as usual at a place like the Night Tripper. The roaring loud music and the sound of its rowdy pub patrons could be heard for miles, spreading throughout the borough of Enfield. Just outside the rowdy pub a truck came to a stop just underneath one of the cities street lamps. The truck looked to be the owner of a farm hand or what many Americans would call a hick or hillbilly. The truck was the color of a faded red, losing much of its hue as the years of abuse and sun damage took its toll. The hitch in the back was missing and the truck was covered in several dings and dents that surrounded the frame. Inside the cabin of the dilapidated old rust bucket were two men. The first of the two was the driver of the vehicle and apparent owner. If ever there was a kinship between man and machine, this man had it with his truck. Tanned from working in the sun, his hands grizzled, covered in dried black oil, and with teeth as yellow as the sun itself. The man was sporting simple clothes and a baseball cap on top of his balding head. The passenger however was a different story. Sporting fashionable clothes including stylish blue jeans, black tennis shoes, a button down shirt, and a leather jacket over top of his form, the man’s hair was well kept and clean with a dark shade of brown. He had a thick covering of five o’clock shadow and his skin though pale and white as a sheet looked clean and well groomed. It had been a long journey for Rob Aiken. Ever since he jumped off the boat in Dublin, the British Isles had been a very different place for him. At least back home in the States, Rob knew the general layout of the road systems in Virginia, West Virginia, Ohio, and Maryland. He knew the back streets and cities and what to expect from the people. He knew from word of mouth where safe havens for people like him were. He knew what areas were inhabited by lupines and where best to avoid the hunters and allies of the Prince of Washington DC. That was his home and that was where he was comfortable. But now, after fleeing for his “life” for lack of a better term, Rob found himself a stranger in a strange land. Not only did he know very little about his kindred to begin with, he had no idea if the vampires of the United Kingdom and Ireland would be different, if they had different customs. How the hell was he suppose to know, his sire met the final death before he could get into any real detail about his existence and the ins and outs of vampire politics in Europe was not exactly on the top of his list of things to ask the various Rabble, Sewer Rats, and Gangrel that he came across on his journeys. But what if they did communicate with the Princes from the Americas? Would he still be a wanted man here even though he now had an ocean separating him and the closest of the Prince’s forces? Luckily for the kindness of people of the countryside such as the man that he was now sitting next to and the random rest areas where he could feed on drifters, truck drivers, and the sort, Rob was able to make ends meet on his journey throughout the United Kingdom. From Dublin he traveled to Belfast, from Belfast to Glasgow, from Glasgow he traveled to Manchester, and finally from Manchester he was able to find the hick sitting next to him and make his way to Enfield where he found himself now. “Here you are mate.” The hick said to him. Rob examined the streets; it was sheer luck that he made a stop outside what Rob could only assume he would find more of his own clan inside. If there was one thing that Rob could count on whether in the USA or the UK, the Brujah were always attracted to loud and rowdy bar/pubs. The Night Tripper would be as good a place as any to get started on his networking. “Thanks pal.” Rob said as he reached into the back and retrieved his meager bag of belongings. “And I am truly sorry for what I have to do now.” Rob said apologetically as he lashed out with quick speed to feed on the helpless driver. Rob regretted feeding on him. The man had been nice enough to give him a lift into town after all and after feeding on the random woman at the gas station earlier he wasn’t in desperate need of the blood. But he was not sure what to expect inside. For all he knew he could walk into a Sabbat safe haven and be ripped limb from limb. Especially at such a young age, the more blood Rob had the better he would be and besides, the vampire kiss was a feeling of euphoria, so in a way he was giving more than taking. After taking what he needed from the now unconscious man he put the driver side seat back into a reclining position and let the man wake up on his own time to let him piece together what really happened between him and the mysterious hitch hiker. He stepped out of the old truck and shut the door, letting some of the blood flow to his lungs he took a deep breath and exhaled. It was a pointless gesture since he had not had the need to breathe air for seven years, but after all old habits did die hard, and whenever you were a walking corpse cursed to hunt night after night, it was the little things that kept the last vestiges of humanity still within your non beating heart. The smell was intoxicating. Ever since his transformation Rob, like many vampires had found a certain fondness to the cities. Maybe it was because lupines filled the forests and rural towns and was a terrifying sight even for the eldest of vampires or maybe there was something within the curse that drew vampires to cities, either way nothing excited him more than the smell of oil, sun baked asphalt, and thrill of a new city and a new adventure. Stepping across the street Rob opened the door to the pub. The scene was your standard pub, a couple of drunks wasting away on their stools, a few gentlemen playing darts on the other end of the bar, and the crowd was festive and loud as various men attempted to court young women. It was always a refreshing change of pace to step into an establishment and not have a single person notice you for good or bad. Rob approached the bar and took an empty stool. “What will it be?” Said the bartender? “Pint of lager.” Rob quickly replied. The bartender approached and placed a ruby red glass in front of him. Rob placed the pounds on the table and stepped off the bar stool. Walking briskly to the opposite side of the bar towards the restrooms, Rob brought the lager to his lips and let the red brew touch his mouth without swallowing. Rob quickly stepped into the bathroom and poured the contents of the glass into the toilet. To many this action would seem strange, but in Rob’s mind it was a way for him to cover his tracks. When being hunted by vampires or hunters, buying a beer and pretending to drink was enough to throw people who might be onto him off his scent. Now for the better trained killers they would quickly realize it was just a ploy, but sometimes a few seconds hesitation is all that stands between an escape and death. Plus along with the drawing of breath and the occasional glance at the picture of his family before his embrace, it was the little things that made him feel his human side again, even something as trivial as buying a pint at the bar. After a few moments Rob stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bar, he found his bar stool once more and looked into the mass of people. He had made it to London, but now his mind was filled with questions. Where did he go from here? How was he going to make connections in the city? Hell where would be his haven for tonight? There was a lot of questions and he should not waste his time sitting on a bar stool. He needed to be a man of action. Edited by RobAiken, Thursday, 27. September 2012, 02:44.
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| People should not be afraid of their government. Government should be afraid of their people. | |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Thursday, 27. September 2012, 05:32 Post #2 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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Having just wasted the better part of her evening in 'court' with everybody and their fucking mother that was Camarilla besides the ones that accompanied her to the event, Nora felt a much needed change of pace was in order. Having stopped at the make-shift haven her and Sullivan had been inhabiting for the past couple of days to change out of her Sunday's best, she strode into the Tripper all smiles and nonchalant confidence. Wearing her usual skin tight jeans that'd seen better days and a faded Daftpunk t-shirt beneath her worn leather jacket, she seemed to blend in rather unceremoniously amongst the rabble of the bar. "'Evening, sweet cheeks." The bar keep said warmly as she passed him by, simply nodding and smiling brightly to him before taking an empty seat two down from a bloke she'd never seen before. The bartender set a frosty cold draft in front of her and went about his work as she eyed this man two seats down with some vagrant interest. He wasn't the type she normally saw drifting in or out, and considering she was here every night and had never seen him before, he must have been fresh to these parts. Part of her contemplated openly attacking and interrogating him on the floor, but the rest of her was far too mentally exhausted with the night's earlier events to take it that far...yet. Instead, she opted for the more sociable route, if only to entertain herself. Turning in her seat, she peered at him with her curious blue eyes, though to him, her eyes would seem normal, not feline in the slightest. Having mastered a subtle mask that concealed the marks of frenzy she wore, going out in public became much easier when all the questions about the 'fucking awesome contacts' could be avoided. She said nothing for quite some time, looking him up and down, sizing him up. It was instinct to measure every person she encountered as a threat these days...even her own mate, sometimes. She did her best to tune out the white noise of music and voices to listen for a heart beat... there was none. So, not only was he new, but he was dead too? Double the fun! "I couldn't help but notice you're all by your lonesome...You must be new to these parts. I'd hate to put a damper on the good fun, but I'll let you know that you won't find much here. Unless you're looking for nothing, of course. Then you've picked just the place to be!" Her voice was sweet as a silver bell with a subtle twang of a hard to place English accent. She smiled to him and extended a slim tattooed hand, "Friends call me Nora, and you are?" |
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| RobAiken | Thursday, 27. September 2012, 06:06 Post #3 |
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Neonate
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Rob turned his attention to the the girl who had just sat beside him, surprised that it had only taken a few moments to gain the attention of one of the patrons. Especially one as unique as the woman who was now extending her arm to him. Instinct and past experience taught him to be cautious of the girl. This was not even a looks can be deceiving moment, this girl looked like she could give as good as she got and if she was kindred, there was no telling how old or powerful she was. “Not as much looking for fun as I am looking for friends and it looks like I might of just found one. The name is Rob, Rob Aiken. Pleasure to meet you Nora.” He said, his accent clearly American as he extended his hand and shook hers. “I take it you are a regular around these parts.” As Rob looked at the punk rocker chick that sat in front of him, he could not help but wonder if she was kindred would she be of the friendly variety. She did not appear to have any animalistic qualities that he could see and she appeared to be sane. All signs pointed to a fellow member of the Rabble, but he could not be sure. Edited by RobAiken, Thursday, 27. September 2012, 07:40.
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| People should not be afraid of their government. Government should be afraid of their people. | |
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| Zombie | Thursday, 27. September 2012, 16:09 Post #4 |
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Childe
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An odd-looking man was standing at the back alley of a pub. Wearing a light red bandana, with a dark pink design, combined with an outlaw's mask. With white long hair sticking out from the sides, and a red tie around his neck, only revealing his chest. The music could be heard from outdoors. Some cars passing buy, and a cough from a man could be heard from a bit away. The Malkavaian checked his watch which was attached to his left wrist. -It is about time... The man mumbled as he slightly chuckled to himself. The maniac held a briefcase. He kneeled down, and put the dark shaped object on the ground, opened it up and made sure the newly-made TNT was good to go. After all, he had some clients to "attend" to. Suddenly the door in the alley, leading to the pub slammed open. A drunk woman left the pub, heading towards his way. The odd man quickly closed the briefcase, and got up before she would see the large amount of TNT he was carrying. -Hello babe. The man said in a seductive tone to the drunk woman. She turned towards voice, leading her to stare into his eyes. Quickly the man grabbed on hold of her, around the waist. Making it hard for her to escape. While using his other hand, to remove the mask. He plugged his teeth into her neck. The woman fell down to the ground, sucked dry. He whiped his mouth, and proceeded with taking out a small pocket knife. The man kneeled down once more, and made a cutting-mark from the prints of his teeth, making it look as if someone had slashed her neck. The evidence was now gone. With one hand, holding the briefcase, and the other dragging her into one of the containers. Once he was done, he started heading into the pub using the back-alley door. His ears were filled with people cheering, toasting and with the sound of the music. As he proceeded to walk towards the bartender, he noticed how he got many eyes gazing at him, as if he was a lunatic or something. But he did not care, as watching others looking at him wasn't his objective. It was to get rid of the damn TNT he had created all week. Zombie sat down three seats away from two individuals talking to each other. He placed the briefcase underneath his chair, and waited for the costumer to sit down next to him. A big bulky man took a seat next to the red clothed man. -Where is briefcase?! The big bulky man yelled into Mill's ear. -Below you. He answered, as he still looked at the table. The man looked down, gazing at the briefcase, whom he later picked up and left. Leaving a small bag next to him. Zombie's assignment, what he did on spare times, was making TNT and then selling it, or using it for his own amusements. This time, he decided to sell it to one of the local human thugs, whom would later throw the TNT at each other, well... The thing was that Mill, sold the TNT to each gang. If every gang would be supplied with bombs, and they would go throw it around to those that they hated.. They'd would end up killing each other. Mill, was simply assigned to watch as they killed themselves, and then once dead, he would go and steal their money for his own benefits. He was more of a war-profiteer then a vampire. What now? He thought. He was supposed to meet up with one of the Anarchs leaders, whom was going by the name of Nora. He didn't even know where to start looking. So, he kept doing his routine. Steal fat, make soap. Profit. Make TNT, blow shit up, or sell it. Then profit. From the money, he would end up buying guns and then more guns, and then burn things up because of his boredom. He gave a thought about going to to the Enfield Town Railway Station. After looking through the bag that he got from the foreign man... |
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| Mael | Friday, 28. September 2012, 12:02 Post #5 |
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OOC: Zombie - you need to write your posts like a normal human being. True your character is a malkavian, but reading that gave me a head ache. |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Tuesday, 2. October 2012, 05:17 Post #6 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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"Regular? I practically live here! Isn't that right, dearest?" She asked the barkeep. He only paused to look at Rob and finally nod in agreement. He'd surely seen Nora's bad side. He didn't walk on eggshells around her, but he didn't like seeing her off her rocker either. She'd broken more than her fair share of bar stools, pool sticks, mirrors, and tables in the days that she'd called this place her 'home', and now it was her 'throne' of sorts. God help whoever crossed her on her off nights. "It's nice to meet you too, Rob. Can I ask you a question?" She leaned in closer, her voice nothing above a whisper, and didn't wait for his answer, "I noticed you don't have a heart beat. That's fine. I don't either. What I need to know is what clan's blood you have and who you serve...? Answer truthfully, and you'll have more then a friend. Lie to me, and I can guarantee you won't like where it gets you." She let the mask drop for just a split second, revealing the rather feline or reptilian slits that were her pupils. Nora didn't do this often, interrogating strangers. Then again, strangers didn't normally wander into Anarch territory unless they were a part of the rabble themselves, or they were enemies. She didn't have the time or patience for the latter, so she'd make this quick and to the point. Part of her hoped he'd give her a reason to talk with his fists. The rest of her hoped he was simply new to the city, and by the sound of his clearly American accent, this could be entirely reasonable. She waited for an answer, peering at him expectantly. |
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| RobAiken | Tuesday, 2. October 2012, 06:01 Post #7 |
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Neonate
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Well this one cuts straight to the point. Rob thought staring into the Nora's feline pupils. He could tell the girl was a little... unhinged. Absolutely nothing uncommon in the life that Rob had lead. He had dealt with kindred like her in the past. Pissing them off usually lead to a confrontation and considering he was standing in a pub where the woman seemed to excel above and beyond the term 'regular', he could possibly have the entire pub on his ass in a matter of seconds. Even with his skills in celerity, he doubted he would be able to outrun all of them. Rob knew it was dangerous to make friends with someone like Nora. But if his intuition wasn't lying to him; which it never did, Nora was a kindred of great importance. This could be the opportunity he was hoping for. "Well I have to respect a person who gets right to the point Nora." Rob said, flashing a smile at the unbalanced Gangrel. "And if telling the truth is all it takes to make friends, then you and I will be lifelong pals in no time." Rob always prided himself on his honesty, even when it got him in trouble. But when it came down to it, it was always more trouble to lie. "I'm Brujah and as far as my affiliation..." Rob paused thinking of the right way to frame the next sentence, this being the make or break moment in the conversation. "Let's just say that the Camarilla and I... Well don't get along to well and the same can be said about the Sabbat." Rob said, his gaze still locked with the Gangrel's feline eyes. "Now tell me Nora, did I answer the million dollar question correctly or do we have a problem? It was the moment of truth, either Rob had made a valuable friend in London or he was about to get into his first fight in London. It was Nora's move. |
| People should not be afraid of their government. Government should be afraid of their people. | |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Tuesday, 2. October 2012, 18:57 Post #8 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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Nora smiled brightly to him, "Aww, I think you did," She sounded almost disappointed, "Pity though, I was hoping I'd get to bloody my claws some. Fuck knows I need it." She sighed, replacing the space between them and idly sipping off her beer. This man didn't look like the typical Brujah type. She'd traded punches with more then a few of them... the thought itself made her miss Damon and their hell-raising shenanigans dearly. She wondered where that man had wandered off to, but she tried not to dwell on it for too long. She looked back to Rob again and wondered what exactly this man was looking for. Americans didn't just uproot and move to a different continent without good reason. Perhaps he was a drifter like she was? It was hard telling these days... Anyone could put on different clothes and fronts. "It's interesting that we find ourselves here tonight, Rob." She started a thought, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag off of it before looking at him again, "You're looking for a friend, I'm looking for more company to keep. Tell me, what is it that you really came here looking for? Surely you know you're smack dab in the middle Anarch territory. Even an outsider knows where the boundaries lie..." Her smile seemed to melt into a smirk, "I think you're here for something... I'm just curious what that is. You've got the muscle, but do you have the brains for this operation?" She doubted she even made sense, but she didn't care. She wasn't here to make sense. She was here to manage the rabble and lead her people in the right direction...and take back what was theirs again. All this would happen soon enough, but for now, she was more interested in this character that sat beside her. |
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| RobAiken | Wednesday, 3. October 2012, 05:02 Post #9 |
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Neonate
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"Well I have to be honest Nora, I'm glad to disappoint you." Rob said as he noticed Nora's set of claws to match her feline eyes. Judging from her choice of words, it was solidified in Rob's mind that Nora here was a leader. A leader of what he could not tell, a street gang, an army of ghouls, or even possibly the Baron. He could not tell for sure but from her demeanor and way of speech she was someone who others followed. "It is good to know I'm among friends here." Rob admitted, looking around the bar at possibly others who shared his dislike for the Camarilla and Sabbat. "As far as why I am here... I am looking for a new start. As I mentioned earlier the Camarilla and I do not get along so well. You can thank that to the fact that my sire went off half cocked and tried to assassinate a prince and his entire coterie with a half baked moronic plan that could have been cooked up by a fourth grader. I was unlucky enough to be associated with the dumbass, but smart enough to escape when he and the others got diablarized by Assamites." He said. Since Nora had admitted that she was an Anarch like him, there was no reason to hide that story about himself. "For seven years I was hunted by the Prince and his assassins in America, most of those would be killers ended up staked on a church rooftop and left to die. After evading his pathetic network for so long, I got tired and decided to try to start a new life here, in Europe." Rob demeanor had changed from lighthearted and cheerful to stone cold serious. It was time for business. "I'll be honest with you Nora because... That is all I know how to be. Do I want a new start? You bet your ass. Do I want to be some drifter, eating off the lower rung of society? Hell no. I didn't come to London to live under the oppression of the Camarilla or Sabbat. There is opportunity here. I can see it and I know you can see it with those lovely cat eyes of yours." He looked straight into the woman's eyes to drive home his point. This wasn't a matter of intimidation, on the contrary. Rob could tell he had found a valuable ally in Nora and he wanted to drive home to her that he was one to be trusted. "And if you want to talk about brains? Let me explain in a story. The first assassin that that prince sent my way was an Assamite named Gokhan Emrikhan. By all accounts the guy was quicker, stronger, and older than I was. But I was smarter and that my friend is the stat that counts. And now I'm sitting here chatting with you and he met the final death when I set his ass on fire." Rob's demeanor shifted back to his more upbeat self. "So Nora, what do you think of this humble American drifter?" |
| People should not be afraid of their government. Government should be afraid of their people. | |
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| Church | Thursday, 4. October 2012, 03:30 Post #10 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Nobody can see me, nobody can see me. Travelling from Sabbat County to Anarch was bad enough, but for some reason I’d decided to get high first. And why not? After that long stuffy boat trip with the queen bitch, I sure needed the release. Of course, learning Monroe was dead, my best buddy was in a coma and my mentor turned out to be traitor was a lot to swallow. I needed to take the edge off. Fuck me, who was I supposed to even trust? The Sabbat clearly weren’t secure enough, and the capes could still go fuck themselves. The Anarchs may be the only friends I have anymore, and if they know what I did those years ago they’ll probably flay me. The fact that I’m walking out of the lion’s den unscathed to join them wasn’t a clever move. If I was seen...shit... I push through the bar door, pulling the black duster jacket around me a little tighter. I don’t know why, but it reassures me. Makes me feel a little safer. It’s the only god damn clothing I got seeing as all my shit went up in the Empire. Got my lucky blue shirt underneath, but the blood stains might cause suspicion. I keep my head down and my eyes low, praying to God that there ain’t no god damned elders around from the Sabbat invasion. Sure, I never raised a hand against them, but it was as bad as that. I can imagine it now. Hey Church is that you? Holy shit man thought you got dusted like the rest of the boys when them Sabbat fucks came. How on earth did you get away? ‘Uh well, you see, I was kept in the Archbishops wardrobe all this time as his personal gimp. Unpretty stuff, I’d rather not talk about it.’ A smile comes to my lips as much as I try and crush the amusing thought. Hot damn, that could work if I’m convincing enough with the details... ”Two pints of stout,” I ask once the barkeep heads in my direction, I try to keep my voice quiet and bury the accent so I don’t stick out too much. I had him a crumpled ten pound note in exchange for the first. I drink it like my life depends on it. Frankly, I think my nerves did. Shame it wasn’t so easy to get drunk anymore, but something about the flavour of beer reminded me of being an Anarch. Figures. A wave a hand away as he starts counting coins ”Keep the change.” picking up the other glass and turning tail to scope out a seat. And the establishment. I risk a look around, risk staring an old hurt friend in the eyes. Nothing. No-one I recognise. Maybe they all did die in the east, these were of different blood. Except...Holy shit...no god damn way. I take a step, then another, back towards the bar I’m peeking over the shoulder of an American telling his life story. Now I’m certain, I slam the drink on the bar before I drop it in disbelief. My dead shrivelled heart feels like its gonna fucking pop. ”Sweet Cheeks!? Is that you?” |
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| RobAiken | Thursday, 4. October 2012, 04:16 Post #11 |
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Neonate
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Rob snapped to attention as the glass made contact with the bar. After years of being stalked any sudden sound was enough to send the young vampire into a defensive state. Rob glanced at the man in the black duster and was immediately confused. Everything about the man's demeanor suggested someone insecure about his surroundings. The way he closed his duster, the stressed look on his face told Rob that this man did not necessarily want to be noticed. But if he didn't want to be noticed why immediately announce himself to obviously one of the most well known patrons here at the Night Tripper? He thought. "I think he is talking to you 'Sweet Cheeks'" Rob said, glancing back at Nora hoping the woman's expression could shed light on who this man was. |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Thursday, 4. October 2012, 05:40 Post #12 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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"Honesty is the best policy..." She mused out loud as he spoke. She listened to his story intently; it reminded her of all the time she spent lying low and running from her own Sire. It seemed to strike a painful chord in her for a moment. Sometimes she wondered what'd become of the old man and his ghoul. Fuck knows she'd made their lives a living hell for the short time they were together. She could relate to him, at least on some levels, and that was hard to come by these days. The only other one she'd come across happened to be her mate...but he was painfully absent his night. Her irritation with him far outweighed her desire to be within arms reach of him. If he were, she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her hands at her sides. "What do I think? It's funny you ask, because not many people do." Not that I don't tell them, anyways, "I think it's interesting that you chose London as your fresh start. I was born and raised here, you know. Did my time, paid my dues, bent the knee...for a little while. See, back then, I wasn't brought into this world with the best intentions... So we fled, and no matter where my... mentor took me, trouble didn't seem to be too far behind. All because the Prince here managed to catch wind of my... induction, you might say." She was careful with her words. While they were smack dab in the middle of free state, there was still a Masquerade to uphold. "Princes in large cities like this tend to talk to each other. That much I've learned the hard way. My only concern for you is that whatever was chasing you in the 'States could very well catch up with you here. I doubt it'll happen soon, but it will. You're in the heart of a melting pot. Many different people cut from many different pieces of cloth get stitched together around here. It doesn't matter what kind of thread is used...only that overlapping could create serious problems... You have to keep your wits about you, and that's very hard to do when you're..." She knew where she was going with her tangent until she heard the glass slam down on the bar. Then she heard a voice... as if she'd heard it yesterday. But that yesterday was years ago... in Paris. She looked at the mysterious figure that seemed to loom nervously behind her new found friend of sorts. No... it couldn't be. She hadn't seen him since that night. Since that spook with Vry, she'd just as quickly picked up her roots and moved elsewhere, not even saying her goodbyes. That was more due to her baptism by fire into the Sabbat then anything else. Her icy blue eyes seemed to widen in realization. "No...fucking...way..." She slid off the bar stool and shouldered passed Rob to face him. What the fuck happened to him? She remembered him being so much more confident, upbeat, and alive.... despite their nature. His presence used to command attention, but now, it was as if he was trying to be invisible. Nora moved closer to him, he looked so different then the last night she'd seen him, although, she probably did too. Before she realized she was literally a breath away from him, her slim hands wavering ever so closely to his. It'd been a long time, and it was uncanny how coincidental his sudden appearance back into her sights were this evening. She breathed in his scent. God, he even smelled different... what was that she smelled? It was chemical, distinct. He was high. On what, she couldn't tell. Her senses weren't the keenest when she was coming down herself. She looked up at him for what seemed like an eternity. Silent, but her eyes spoke volumes on how much she'd missed him. They only spent one night together, but he showed her more blind support and compassion then she'd ever known in that era. Her lips slowly twisted into a sweet smile, "Where the fuck have you been all my life?" She laughed as she jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and not letting go. It felt good to finally see a familiar face after so many years. |
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| RobAiken | Thursday, 4. October 2012, 06:31 Post #13 |
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Neonate
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Rob was amazed at the reaction. His expectation was that Nora would pounce on the poor fellow and claw out his eyeballs. Instead Nora pounced on the poor fellow with a hug that could only be given to those who were truly special to them. Whoever this guy was, he was obviously important to the kindred and possibly even a person she knew before her embrace. Either way was irrelevant, he could see the writing on the walls. Whatever business he had with Nora would have to wait, her attention was now on her old acquaintance. It didn't matter to him though. Rob had accomplished what he wished to accomplish that night, he made a valuable ally in London. Now he needed to find a place to go to ground. The sun would be coming up in a couple of hours and Rob would have to make a spotty home in the London underground for the night. "I will leave you two alone." Rob said to the two embracing friends. "Nora if you need me... And I know you will. You can find me near the Enfield Train Station. Come around anytime." Rob stepped away from the two friends and outside the Night Tripper. He stood in the crisp London night, letting another round of blood rush through his lungs to draw breath. Nora's words were still ringing through his head. She was right, the Prince may still be looking in the States for him right now... But he would find him eventually. This wasn't a probability but a guarantee. He had no delusions of his current situation. But the time for running was passed. London was going to be his home... or his last stand. He lead a good life and a good unlife, but eventually even when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object something has to give. If he was going to meet the final death it would not be running. But even though the clock was ticking, Rob travelling to London bought him a lot of time. Maybe a month, maybe a year, maybe a decade, or maybe even centuries. Regardless time was Rob's temporary friend. It was a big game of chess and he was moving the pieces for his defense. While standing outside, a second man stepped out of the club. He was a rather bulky man, his attire made him look like a local gangbanger. But strangely enough he was carrying a briefcase in his hands. At a time like tonight? Why a briefcase? He didn't look the type to have a lot of paperwork. He then remembered while talking to Nora a strange looking dude in the corner of the bar who originally walked in with the briefcase. As it dawned on him, Rob had to laugh. If these two were really attempting a drop off they were clearly running an amateur game and the bulky brute was easy pickings for the young Brujah. As the bulky man approached his car, Rob was quick to follow behind him. Still keeping a keen eye out for any bystanders. He could render the man unconscious quick, but if someone happened to see in that brief window, it could spell trouble for him. As the man reached his car, Rob pounced on the gangbanger, sinking his teeth into his neck. Rob drank the delicious blood with one hand on his wrist, keeping track of his pulse. Like an anesthesiologist Rob walked a fine line between unconsciousness and death when pulling this little stunt. A little too much would equal murder and big trouble for him. As the man's eyes went glassy and his heart rate slowed the man blacked out. Rob tossed the gangbanger into his car, slamming it shut, and claiming the briefcase as his own. "Thanks pal." Rob said, patting the briefcase. But now was not the time to check its contents. For all he knew he could have just stolen a handful of cooking recipes, but the risk was worth the reward and Rob's intuition was telling him this could be helpful. And if not, hell free meal. Using his celerity Rob took off into the night towards Enfield Train Station where he would await for Nora and the rest of her coterie. |
| People should not be afraid of their government. Government should be afraid of their people. | |
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| Church | Thursday, 4. October 2012, 14:31 Post #14 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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The cold shivers up my spine keep me on edge; I’m terrified and overjoyed all at once. It’s definitely her, and she certainly remembers me. But maybe that’s not all. Did she know something about him? This had been her home turf as well as his in times past, she could easily be connected enough to know what he did. No...Surely not. She had been a mess when he found her. Maybe it didn’t show on the face of things, but deep under her skin she was plagued by demons. But now? That hopeful look in her eye, that gorgeous smile. She’s happy to see you thank fuck. With that realisation, tension seeps out of me as I’m lost in her embrace. Monroes death is made that much sweeter. The man she was talking with says his fairwells, I give him an apologetic wave goodbye. I think. I’m not really sure where I’m looking anymore because I’ve got a face full of her hair. ”Hello gorgeous....What are the fucking odds?” I mumble into her, wrapping my arms around her tightly. What were they indeed? Everyone I knew either seemed to be dead, missing or bad. Yet here was someone he had spent the briefest time with, but had tried his best and frantically pushed her towards the light. ”It’s good to see you, Nora. So fucking good.” I squeeze a little tighter to show her I mean it. As much as it sucks, I’ve gotta fill her with little white lies to make sure my cover doesn’t get blown. But this is good. Not because she’s someone who would vouch for me, but because she was a friend. Maybe the only one he had left. I pull my head back so my vision isn’t blanketed by her crazed waves of hair, I smile immediately as her face hones into view. Where do we begin? ”How you doing girl? Been a long time since that pool game in Paris huh?” I kiss her lips softly, tasting the beer and cigarettes upon them, expressing my happiness at this good fortune. For a moment Jack springs into my mind and I have to squash the jitters in my stomach. Would people like her be endangered? Perhaps. If I’m stupid about it. Well that makes it simple: Don’t be stupid about it. When I kill Jack, I don’t give him any chances. Easier said than done.Think of something else. ”How’s London treating my favourite ‘Lovely Lady.’ I wanna know everything." Starting with where you ran off to. I remember that night so clearly. Didn’t I threaten to kill her? Yup, if she went off the rails I think. Who the fuck am I to give advice. Must have mellowed in my old ageMy arms slacken, but don’t let her go. As odd as it may be, her dead body gives me warmth. Why, she’s like a sexy radiator! I wonder if they sell those...? Yup. Definitely starting to relax now. |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Tuesday, 9. October 2012, 03:12 Post #15 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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The sheer happiness she felt to finally see Damon was surreal at best. She hadn't been this happy to see someone, let alone him, in years. Whilst she'd found a few friends here and there, and Sullivan, to keep her company and socially sustained, the feelings she'd had for this man before her seemed to make the dead organ in her chest come back to life. Sullivan... he'd surely be here sooner or later. Part of her felt guilty for literally flinging herself at another man, but surely he'd understand they were just friends. But the rest of her didn't give a fuck what anyone thought of her doing so at the moment. Feeling his arms around her was something she missed... come to think of it, she couldn't really miss something that she'd never felt with him before. The last time she'd seen Damon, he had her pinned against a brick wall and doing his best to keep her very temperamental, and slightly psychotic, Beast at bay. They'd never held each other, or even shook hands if memory served. Nevertheless, it was something she couldn't get enough of. Nora's feet dangled for a few moments as she hung from his neck, the affectionate squeeze he gave her before setting her back down sending a surge of warmth through her body, as if he'd kick started her blood circulation with his embrace. She couldn't find any words to spit out as he crooned to her, his face nuzzled into the tumultuous waves and curls that spilled over her shoulders. All she could do was smile, and then he kissed her, and it was as if her lifeless heart skipped a beat. His hold on her loosened some, as he set her back down and she smiled up to him with that heart breaking smile of hers, "Agreed, dearest. It's been too long, I think. I've missed you terribly for some fucking reason," She laughed lightly, tilting her head up to return the kiss with one of her own. Her body language would give away her wishes as she reluctantly pulled away, letting her arms settle comfortably around his waist, "I've been...alright." She wasn't sure how to answer his question. She had been doing better in some aspects, but others were just as chaotic and unstable as he'd last seen of her. She hesitated to continue talking, choosing her words carefully, "I can't complain, really. Telling you everything would take all god damn night." She sighed, hugging him again and resting her head against his chest. This was a conversation she'd rather have in private, but being alone with him was in some ways far too dangerous. Instead, she simply enjoyed the comfort his arms gave her, with no plans of letting go anytime soon. She looked up to him, "I could ask the same of you, though..." She broke away and looked around, eyeing the dwindling crowd of people suspiciously, then the door to the back room. She glanced to Damon before breaking away from his hold on her and drifting down to the other end of the bar, climbing up on the bar stool to lean over to bartender and whisper in his ear. She looked back to the door again, he nodded, she smiled and returned to Damon's side, grabbing his hand and silently leading him towards that ominous heavy oak door and watching for prying eyes as she did so. Nora opened the door and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind and sliding the deadbolt home before turning around to face him again. She'd dropped the mask she'd been carrying all night, letting him see the marks of her Beast in all their glory. Her eyes were still bright blue, but the slits of her pupils made her gaze look rather menacing despite the soft smile she wore. A hint of the scales could be seen on her wrist, but most were still hidden beneath her clothing. The deafening blare of the music beyond these walls had been reduced to muffled white noise, the lighting sparse, but comfortable. The room wasn't extravagant by any means, furnished with a desk and chair that'd seen better days and a leather sofa and chair that looked comfortable, but torn to hell. Nora'd spent more than a few nights crashing in this light tight room before when going home wasn't one of her options. She leaned back against the door, feeling herself begin to relax, "Being the Baron has it's perks... Although, I think the Dream might be a little more accommodating...who gives a fuck?" she whispered as she grabbed him the seams of his jacket and pulled him closer again. The sexual tension that seemed to radiate between them still had her on edge, but she didn't let it stop her from enjoying his company, "So... What do you want to know, love?" She looked up to him curiously, the teasing smile never faltering. |
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| Church | Tuesday, 9. October 2012, 16:00 Post #16 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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I watch her walk over to the barkeep, a dumb smile painted on my face. Either she has a profound effect on my psyche, or the dope finally starts doing its job. Regardless, I feel tension and paranoia draining away, leaving me with a warm gooey feeling inside. Maybe I get to keep my head after all. She takes my hand and we leave the crowd behind. I’ve never had a problem with mortals, and accordingly always had a conflict of interest during my time as a ‘brother.’ But right here, right now? They could burn for all I cared. I was much more interested in getting a little one on one time. I’m glad she’s thinking the same thing, because soon we’re alone away from the noise of the world with a deadbolt keeping interruptions at bay. She’s so awesome. ”Woah, woah hold up a second. You’re the Baron of this here town?” I’m not shocked, more surprised; I had been dreading meeting the Baron, thinking it would be some grizzled veteran of the war, someone who remembers my face and, providing they didn’t kick the crap outta me, call me a pussy and a coward and I get left to the wolves. I take a hand of hers off the jacket, raise it above her head and pin it to the door. Poor bitch, that’s what I’m thinking as my thumb traces the scales that have mutated on her wrist. We’re all hideous monsters, but why is it people like her have actually gotta physically, and slowly, become it? It’s a cruel hand to be dealt, but it’s probably one of her smaller concerns. ”Well I’ve been back one night, and the god damn shit I’ve seen...we’re gonna need someone as crazy as you to survive it. Awesome sweetheart, brilliant stuff. That’s what I love about you, not giving a fuck about the little unimportant shit. And when you do give a fuck...” I give a cheeky smile. Why not her? Who could say they were better? Letitia did a bang up job in Paris and the two ladies certainly had similarities. Or at least a twisted mind from an abusive sire they constantly found themselves on the run from. My smile vanishes at this thought, I swallow hard. ”Really though, how have you been? Have you seen...him?” Maybe that’s where these changes came from, her sire seemed to invoke fear in her and ultimately set the beast free. But now I think about it, this is her home. Surely Vry would know if she was here? Maybe the assholes finally bit the dust. Hell, if he was here when Monroe showed up it certainly was possible. Good. Maybe she’ll make him a grave and I can piss blood on it. My other hand seems to have snaked off, wrapping around her waist and pushing our bodies closer before I realise what I’m doing. I fucking hate her piece of shit sire and I’ve never met him. Just to have such an impact on a soul like hers makes my piss boil. I wanna comfort her, make her feel good, and there’s only one way I know how. No you goddamn fool There was a time and a place for thinking with ones dick, the place usually involving a bed and the time...Give it ten minutes at least. I get it, you enjoy mauling pretty girls, but she’s a friend. She’s a Baron! You’re a nobody, start acting like it. I relinquish my grasp, as much as I don’t want to, step back a few paces and think. I shed the jacket, drape it over the back of the chair and take a seat on the sofa. ”Well what I want to know and need to know are two very different things.” I can’t put my heart into another smile, so I give her a weak one. Also I’m figuring the bar mans not gonna tell her what she can and can’t do, so sparking up a joint seems a good idea. I clicked the zippo off as the cherry flares to life, enjoying the taste of my favourite pastime. ”Maybe you could tell me what’s happened to this place. I had a nice little place Hackney which I figured would still be here after a little soul searching in Paris. Nope gone, along with the neighbourhood. Sabbat giving you lot trouble?” I know the answer, but have to play the game. It would also be interesting to hear things from another perspective, a new angle. I just hope to God his mistakes hadn’t ended up getting her hurt. Smoke seeps out of my lips and nostrils, I’m entranced in those eyes of hers. They’re terrifying and breathtaking all in one, fucking hypnotising my like a snake charmer. That game of pool in Paris was such a strange and vivid memory, and I know why; because all in one night I met and lost her. ”Come tell me.” I motion for her to join me, regretting stepping away as if somehow hugs will solve all her problems and clear my conscience. |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Thursday, 11. October 2012, 05:35 Post #17 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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There were changes that he was noticing that she'd long forgotten existed now, her marks having become a part of her unseen reflection and, a part of herself. She didn't miss what her body looked like before it was covered in all these different scales; she learned to live with them, and eventually embrace them. It was all she could do, but he was paying more attention to them than she was used to. Sullivan seemed to be more tolerant and understanding of why they were there. Than again, he also carried the same blood in his veins...Stop it, stop it, stop it! Damon pressed his body closer to his, and while she wanted to respond to his touch and feed off his energy, she forced herself to look away, "Go ask the stupid bitch that asked me the same question. Oh wait, I killed her. And her friends...you know, just for good measure." She looked back to him with a mischievous grin, her voice sounding innocent and sweet, "It was all in her tone, you know. It was just oozing of disrespect...and ignorance. She couldn't ignore my claws though." Her smile only widened. It was no secret that she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty, but to admit that she'd taken out four of her own kind over a disagreement? Of course! Who wouldn't? Then he asked about Vry, and the smile disappeared like marker being wiped off a dry erase board. She didn't know what to say. It was as if simply referring to him had mentally bitch slapped her hard enough to forget her own name. He let go of her, she sighed. A mixture of relief and longing filled her as she watched him pace over to the sofa. She looked at him from across the room with pursed lips, wanting to say so many things, but unable to sort it all out without sounding like a lunatic. He'd asked her so many questions it felt like, and was looking at her like she was some kind of Saint to be put on a pedestal and praised for centuries to come. She warred with her emotions, feeling her nerves begin to fray and unravel with the lack of a buzz. Part of her wanted to cry and pour out her feelings, another wanted to punch him in the face for even asking, and the rest of her just wanted to puke from the sudden amount of stress he'd inadvertently dropped on her shoulders and made her think about. How can he make smoking a joint look so unbelievably sexy? Nora finally came to sit next to him, taking the joint out of his hand as he lifted it to his face without asking and taking one long, slow drag before handing it back to him without a word. She'd never be able to enjoy this kind of a high anymore, it wasn't enough. The taste was enough, though. The smoke that filled her lungs felt like a velvety embrace to her dead insides, exhaling and simply shaking her head, and finally lifting her eyes to meet his once more. He'd struck a nerve, that much was obvious, but she tried all her might to keep control. "I...have been pretty fucking miserable up until now." She started, already regretting opening up to him. There was no going back now. "I haven't physically seen Vry since the last time I saw you... They caught up with me in Paris, but I was in a really bad place. I was still coping with this new addiction I'd inherited, and I'd diablerized an Elder... Edward tried to corner me, Vry tried to have me hunted... and he almost succeeded. All I know is that he thought I was a waste of his blood, so he sent a couple wolves on my ass so he could add me to his 'collection' of bad blood..." She rested her chin in her palm, staring off into space and avoiding looking at him at all costs, "In spite of him, I found the Sabbat, and I ran off to Los Angeles only three nights after I ran away from you. I found a good pack, shacked up with the Ductus, and thought being the Alpha bitch was better then life itself, until I got bored with it all. I wasn't as crazy, limitless, and soulless as they were. Cole tried to embrace a baby, a fucking infant, just to keep me busy." She remembered that living, breathing child that one of her 'brothers' had ripped away from it's mother. The beautiful little baby that Cole had placed in her arms and told her to kill. "I couldn't do it." Her voice hitched, sounding like she fighting to keep tears at bay, "Something inside of me wanted it so badly, to make that baby mine, but I couldn't live with people that were that fucked in the head. So I left." Nora sucked in a breath and finally looked at him, letting him see the shreds of pain and guilt that lay dormant in them from those memories. "I wandered back to the rabble eventually, went from one gang to the next, until I finally wound up back here. I'm sure Vry knows I'm here. Fuck, I'm staying in our old haven, of course he knows I'm here. But it's the only safe place I could think to go to. I met Sullivan...and Vinnie... they've saved my ass more then a couple times." Her thoughts lingered on Sullivan with some sadness. She had to change the subject before her mind got caught up on other things. "'Problem' is an understatement. My first night back was ugly, to say the least. I came home to find my own home in Camden crawling with fucking dogs. Ran into a pack of them whilst contemplating just burning the damn house down. If it weren't for Sully and Vinnie being around, I wouldn't be here talking to you. I cut through those shovelheads like tissue paper by myself, but then their master came around. I've heard his name's Jack? Whoever the fuck he is, he put two rounds of buckshot in my backside," she hissed through the clenched teeth at the memory, "And that, love, is not something I will forgive and forget. It's a dish best served cold. I'd personally like to crack his chest open with my bare hands and wear his rib cage as a hat, but when that will happen, if ever, I'll never know. I don't have the numbers or strength backing us to make anything happen...yet. All I know is this: I hate the Sword as much as I hate my past, and I will die trying to be free of it." |
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| Church | Friday, 12. October 2012, 00:54 Post #18 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything – Yeah no shit. This is killing her inside, making her relive unwanted memories. Fucking hell, can things really get that bad? I think I would be dead long before I was...wait what? She was bored of being Sabbat? That’s new. At least she couldn’t stomach them either, otherwise I’d be worried about who they let run the resistance. Oh God there’s more? I smoke the joint and keep my mouth shut, trying to catch her eye but she won’t even look at me. Why? Is she ashamed? Afraid? Why else do people avoid looking at you? She doesn’t know shit. If this is so bad for her, doesn’t she realise how brave she is to even tell me this? Thinking back on it, we’re almost strangers. We were just two souls who ran into one another, and while I wanted to help her I don’t know if I could’ve. Then again, its remarkable what a small gesture can do sometimes. I’m taking another drag and she brings up her own first night home, and a name I didn’t want to think about for the rest of the night. Jack. Fucking Jack!? No! Shit no! Fuck god fucking dammit fucking....fuckstain! This isn’t good. Shit, things are getting crazy. I kill Jack so Makie doesn’t kill me, but Nora wants Jack dead too. Hell if he really did Victor in, I want a fucking hat too. Do I ask for her help? Jack knows both of them, he knows me, and he knows who I really am. If I try to kill Jack and fail, does he kill me or Nora? Or Makie? I rub my eyes, brain thumping with exhaustion. It’s hardly rocket science, but pinning Jack down was a hard enough task. But this is becoming a freaking clusterfuck. What to do? I give her a glance, but my eyes get stuck. I can positively feel the fury seep out of her, at Jack and the Sabbat. They really messed up her head, and I’m here worrying about my own ass. This isn’t right, when have I ever worried? Jack dies, that’s a fact. Then after that, who knows. Maybe I turn on Makie, maybe I turn on Nora. Maybe I kidnap them both and keep them in a sex dungeon, start some freaky blood orgy and invite everyone who’s not a Camarilla. Shit, I could make alotta money... The burning roach snaps me back to reality, causing me to quickly drop the remnants to the floor. I crush it with a boot and suck the burn on my finger. What a horrid sensation. ”I’m sorry pet, I really am.” I take hold of one of her hands and give it a squeeze. I got a little anger at her for running away that night, but it’s not for me to say. But maybe things could’ve been different? ”But you gotta remember you are a good person. Perfect? Probably not. Who the fuck is. But you’re pretty damn close darling.” I lean a little closer, brushing her crazy hair out of her face and give it a good look. ”I totally would’ve made you pregnant.” I think. At least I think I think. No, shit I said that out loud. ”I mean...shit. I dunno what it is about you. When we met that night in Paris, I’d never met anyone like you. You amaze me a little Nora, and this is the second time I’ve ever spoken with you.”I smile, hoping it’s contagious. ”Listen...I’m gonna be around alot. I’m guessing you being Baron means you’re gonna be around too and not leave me moping around like a love sick puppy.” My voice is low and serious, my hand cupping her face. You ain’t looking at fuck-all-else. ”And if you’re ever hurting, bored, lonely, sad, angry; anything babe, I’m here and I’m gonna help you. Alright?” Am you really gonna say it? Yup. Your brain doesn’t know how to stop. ”And I’m gonna get you that hat sweetheart. Cause I know Jack too. I lived here a few years back after all...and I knew him. And you know what? I came back kill that fuck. You hear me? I’m gonna kill Jack, I’m gonna gut him and tear him to fucking pieces, and now I’m gonna enjoy it even more.” I want her to see how much I mean this, that I’m not gonna stop until that Malkavian is dead. Maybe I’ll tell her why someday, but for now I want her to know I’m not talking shit. I let go of her hand and cup the other side of her face, and come closer. I touch her forehead with mine, those crazy cat eyes got nothing to look at but my (by comparison) boring ass peepers. But windows to the soul and all that right? ”I promise you Nora, I’ll make him pay.” |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Friday, 19. October 2012, 00:58 Post #19 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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He said he was sorry, "Don't be," she said shortly. He said she was a good person, "Hardly," she answered with a clipped tone. He said...he would have made her pregnant? She looked at him with bewildered eyes. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her by saying that? Probably not. But it threw her mind for a loop. A dangerous loop that made her wonder if things could have been different had they met under different circumstances. It was something she tried not to think about; dwelling on the what-ifs and regretting everything that lead up to this moment made her only hate her existence that much more. She hadn't known happiness in a long time, but she remembered what it felt like. God, how she remembered that night. It was a boy. Not even a year old, with sweet chubby cheeks and legs that kicked happily whenever she whispered lovingly in his ear. He had blue eyes and a dusting of black hair, and his smile made her heart melt. He was everything she'd ever wanted in her mortal life, and everything that she'd never get to actually have. She never knew his real name, but in the few hours she got to spend with him in her arms, she'd become fond of calling him Asher. It was the name of one of Vry's masks...her favorite mask of his, in fact. She'd remembered it like yesterday, looking down at that baby boy with all the love in the world, but knowing the only way she could keep him was if he died. She couldn't do it though. She couldn't take his life away from him when he hadn't even begun to live it. He'd only been in this world for a few short months. Being trapped in that state wasn't a fate she wished for herself, let alone the innocent child that she held tightly to her cold breast. It was obvious he'd struck a cord. She looked up to Damon, tears threatening to spill, but she wore a smile as she reminisced on Asher's small, incredibly innocent face. "I think I would have liked that." She shook her head, listening to him talk about how she'd amazed him, been so different. She couldn't begin to fathom how he'd come to this conclusion, than again, she hadn't realized how mentally broken she'd become until now. She could see it in his eyes, the sympathy and compassion he wanted to give her, but didn't. Maybe he thought it'd offend her, maybe it just wasn't in his nature. She didn't know him well enough to be sure. He cupped her face, made her look at him, and in that moment, she wished she would have stayed with him that night. Perhaps they'd both be better off if she had. He told her he'd be around. He said he'd be there for her, no matter what. He promised he'd help her, and he'd get rid of the piece of shit that attacked her and then they could live with one less headache in their lives. She threw all her moral restraints in that moment out the window, moving with liquid grace into his lap and straddling his hips. She kissed him again, not short or sweet like before. No, this kiss was long and deep, and lingered much longer then she intended it to. She could taste the resin on his lips, gathering the cloth of his shirt in her fists and grinding against him as she finally pulled back to look him in the eyes again, "Are you going to tear him like...this?" She spoke slowly, sensually, ripping his shirt apart and smiling with an insatiable hunger. She buried her face in his neck, kissing along his jaw, nibbling on his ear, and pressing more sweet kisses down his throat. Her fingers got lost in hair, yanking his head back and resisting the urge to sink her teeth in. She breathed in his scent, pulling back rather abruptly. "What are you on?" She knew a junkie when she smelled one. |
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| Church | Sunday, 21. October 2012, 01:55 Post #20 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Is everyone crazy? It’s a remarkable talent to change from weeping sorrow to horny disregard for clothing. Or am I the talented one for making her do that? Lucky blue is damaged! It has been torn asunder! Then again that’s why its lucky...right? I get tingles running up and down, her breath on my exposed throat makes me wince in anticipation. She’s getting my scent in her system, tasting me without things getting bloody. “Some cheap Scag, found a junkie pumped full of it near my house. Well, what used to be my house...” I mumble quietly, my view of the ceiling is simply perfect. I like how it sways and spins without any effort on my part. “It’s like sludge in my veins. Giving me a fucking headache.” I squint at the ceiling to focus. Yeah, it’s really moving. Maybe it’s doing more than I give it credit for, but I know exactly what it is. Drugs, along with security and property, were key element in Monroe controlling the population. A false, home brand masquerade was cast over the east and its people to ensure a dominant force in that area. Or at least that’s how things had been going when you left. ”...anyway...” With little effort I lift her with a hand, which had snaked around her waist and squeezed a firm buttock. I get my head functions back as her grip releases, to which I immediately respond by attempting to suck her face off. Her lips taste sweet, though that could probably be described by this intense, but sloppy, passion. I’m getting a bit teethy. “Don’t worry girl, what I’ll do to Jack will be ugly.” I whisper, my teeth are moving down to her neck. I lay her down on the settee, settling between her legs with little tenderness as I grind my groin into hers. “But This is gonna be nasty.” A hand discovers her crotch, fumbling with the fly to her skinny jeans as I reveal my chattering near her throat a bluff, kissing her intensely. “I’m gonna make sure you don’t leave me hanging” I tell her between mouthfuls, noticing a dribble of blood from her lip. Definitely too teethy. Such things she does to me...I just wanna fuck her to a bloody pulp. Damn beautiful crazy fucking bitch, you’re gonna be the end of me. My hand has stopped stripping her from the belt down, the other holding/pinning one of hers behind her head, and for a moment I just get mesmerized in her sharp eyes. I’m suddenly conscious of a few things: Since Lucky blues latest fatal escapades, my bare chest stained with flecks of blood here and there sets my teeth on edge. I haven’t had a shower since getting to London, I’m caked in blood: Mine, Makie, Tzimisce-bitch. I don’t like the idea of that life clashing with this one. I look up, at the bolted door. The sound of the bar is muffled, but still it’s clear enough to know what song is blasting or what the general mood of the bar is. Also there’s...“Fuck!” I curse, straightening up on my knees. My eyes wander to her unbuttoned pants, making me sigh and frown. I pat a hand on her thigh and let it rest there, turning back to her maddening gaze. “You're gonna make me crazy. You sexy...fucking bitch, making me wait all this fucking time...but...”My tone is almost harsh with passion, but I grin, the hand creeping up her shirt to flash the flesh at me. “I’ll probably regret delaying it but...can we get out of here? I’ve got a sweet plan if you’re interested. And it ends on a bed, hopefully one strong enough to handle our youthful spirits.” I hope it intrigues her, because suddenly a night of chores could become a night of adventure. Then again, if she’s feeling as hot as me right now, she’s gonna be difficult to get out the door. And as will I if I need to stare at her loosened pants again, if I feel her grind against me again. Because the fact of the matter is that I suddenly find myself under her thumb, and would willingly spend a month locked in this room caught in some sort of sexy gladiatorial battle. Jack...Jack who? Jack-schmack. |
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3:54 PM Jul 11