& [ unfed, restless & rabid ] OPEN

[yvette gabrielle audley*]

Dedication to one’s cause, that was what life was about wasn’t it? It was about purpose. And death…What about death?

Yvette Audley was a young vampire, a young immortal whose star was on the rise or so it would seem. It was only a year since the attack. That burn still ached within her throat, the emptiness of her stomach constantly bearing down on her conscious mind. There was no true escape to it, Audley was a blood junky. In fact there were days in which the towns were literally painted red – her vision tinted the color, so potent was her thirst. And other days there was the same phenomenon but for a different reason entirely – she had quenched her thirst, stacked the bodies, set them ablaze and moved on.

Police were acutely aware of her presence, despite the fact that she flew under the radar. There were six different passports in her purse, separate names and separate lives all built up behind them. It had cost a pretty penny…that she had taken back after snacking on her employee. What law enforcement knew was that there was a serial killer in the vicinity. Fools. The lady was growing more and more skilled at getting precisely what she wanted. Though that made for a very spoiled Yvette, a happy Yvette was…okay not safer. To be quite honest, there was no “safe Yvette” any longer.

There was just the constant craving, though it was wickedly hidden beneath that captivating face of hers. That coy, accepting smile that leisurely spun itself on the plush curve of her lips, her fangs hidden beneath but pathologically poised in wait of the next victim. The night air was chilly, fall leaves dusting the sidewalk and the corona glow of the street lamps seeming festive even in their state of normality. The lamps were always that vaguely pompous golden hue, that lazy irritating perfect shine. Yvette was distantly aware of them, but only that.

She too was somewhat pompous. Perhaps that was the wrong word. Miss Audley knew the story a mirror told, the dip and curve of her waist, bust and calves. She also knew the pleasing swoop of her lips, the pronounced cheek bones and the piercing eyes. Her mother had placed great stock in appearances, and even from their poor beginnings Yvette had drawn knowledge. There was value in shallow things, almost moreso than the deep things. Ugly women went unnoticed, fat women were noticed but only enough to be mocked or ridiculed. Men were the same. Except they weren’t.

Men made their own exceptions, loop holes that women could only dream of. The thing was this – men were just as easily exploited. Yvette had witnessed the parade of men that her mother had escorted march in and out of that house, hypnotized it seemed by the temptress they paid for. Either way, Yvette was unimpressed by the roles that were assigned. Her compliance had been gained just for the sake of simplicity. To fight it would seem…a futile attempt much like the feminist movement. She was perfectly content behind the scenes, making her way without the glamour of a penis or her name on a company. As it was, Yvette was more apathetic than she was most times. She was hungry. She wanted someone to gnaw on. Her throat was parched for the blood that poured through each bystander’s veins. That was no fun though. As Yvette matured in this condition she had begun to learn that “Cat and Mouse” was quite fulfilling. Almost as much as the end product.

She enjoyed watching them ogle her out of the corner of her eye as she entered a bar or strode down the street mostly because they thought that she was going to suffer from them. Even the women, the women thought they were superior. No, of course sexually they were disinteresting, as disinteresting as any human can ever be, but they had their uses. What her favorite part about them was their spunk. Damn men and their inability to see that intellect breeds independence. So the dolls put up their fights, stuck up their noses. Just enough to piss Audley off.

That was honestly a feat. Ticking Yvette off. Then again if you were a human you were halfway there just breathing. Yvette was something of an alcoholic. Only her alcohol was decidedly more red in hue. But to each his own. It was nightfall. Earlier than it generally came, and that pleased her. She was glad to have the extra time out and about – that which she spent cooped up during the day was nothing short of torturous and intolerable given that she could not sleep. Needless to say, Ms. Audley was awake, and approaching a local bar. A watering hole…for the customers, and for the immortal.

They say predators come out at night.

tag(s):

[/color] open
credit:[/color] grace @ caution 2.0
lyrics:[/color] is it progression if a cannibal uses a fork? by chiodos
outfit:[/color] click!
word count:[/color] eight twelve
comments:[/color] come play?
music:[/color] nada[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font]

[lucyloo]

THIS

Lucy strutted down the crowed New York sidewalks. Bumbling idiots occupying every inch of space, not worthy of where they were standing. She continually shoved by women, men, children, teenagers, runaways. All of the sorts. Her heels smashed against the pavement, sending shocks up her spine and thundering clicks in the air. Being barely audible over the endless chatter and noises filling the evening air. Something about New York that she was just getting utterly tired of.

She never had a quiet moment, ever. When she was at home? Nope; she would constantly hear the horns of angry drivers getting stuck behind in traffic. At a café? Never; people walking by talking at even a whisper she could hear what they were saying. All of it filled her mind, causing her mind to go completely berserk. Sometimes she just wanted to scream. Make all of it stop just by the loudness of her voice.

And that was what she did. She let a snarl escape her lips, sending and echoing roar through the street, people stopping dead in their tracks and turning abruptly toward her. She looked around, her electric blue eyes like daggers; piercing through the dainty flesh of the humans around her. She pushed herself through the stunned bystanders and drove herself toward the nearest, anything, that she could find. Only now did she regret taking the back road for almost everything.

She rounded many corners, coming up a few feet short of a bar. Good, just what she needed. She brushed the front of her dress off, sending any dirt or dust invisible to the eye, floating toward the ground. She stopped a corner away from the bar and pulled a pocket mirror out of her clutch. She eyed her porcine skin in the tiny mirror, her blue eyes reflecting back at her. She smudged a slight bit of her eyeliner, followed by a quick touch up of mascara and pressed powder.

She threw the mirror back into her clutch and held it tightly in her hand. Struts returned to the streets yet again as she made herself toward the bar’s entrance. She pushed by the line gathering at the right side and pulled her ID out faster than he could as for it. She smiled slightly and winked, sure enough he unhooked the rope from the pole and allowed her past.

She strutted past, swaying her hips slightly to the beat the bass was producing. She made her way past the crowd of people, to the glass bar at the side. She propped herself on a stool and swung around toward the bartender and called him over with a alluring sideways glance. “What can I get for you, miss?” She smiled, “A sex on the beach.” he nodded and turned away to fetch the refreshment.

She swung around, placing her forearms on the bar and eyed the crowd that filled the place. A midnight snack for her pleasure, perhaps?

[evelyn]

X . X . X
attire

The room itself was dark, with the only source of light coming from the rest of the city. Blue eyes narrowly gazed from behind the glass, peering down at the buildings and the streets below her. Even from the twenty-second floor, she could still hear the feint sounds of cars slowly making their way across the busy streets, and the mumbled words from the people that filled the sidewalks. There were so many of them, and from up here they appeared just as tiny as they truly were in her mind. A pale finger repeatedly pressed against the glass, and one by one those tiny little people became squashed, so fragile and helpless like little ants. Her eyes never left the streets as her other hand reached out to grasp a glass and bring it to plumped lips, bare with the exception of a slight red stain that ringed around the inside. Tilting her head back, she let whatever red wine was left slip down her throat. After all, he did spend so much money on this bottle. It would've been so rude of her to leave it to waste. "I had such a lovely time tonight, Brandon, but I'm afraid our little date must come to an end."

Setting the glass down, she turned from the window to look at the man sprawled out across soft, fluffy hotel sheets. He truly was a beautiful man, one that aged like fine wine. It was the only reason she had chosen this man who was somewhere around fifty instead of a younger male who was closer to the age she appeared as. He wasn't much of a looker, but as stated before, his beautiful blood aged like fine wine. Sliding her knees on either side of him, she grasped her hands around his jaw and neck and pulled up his limp face and body toward her with such ease, as though he were a little rag doll for her to play with. "You really should've put on a jacket, love. I told you that it was going to be a frigid night." A purr rang through his deaf ears as she lowered her face toward a huge, gaping wound in his neck, courtesy of Evelyn O'dell. This woman never failed to give them a night to die for.

After suckling up whatever blood was left within him, his dry body was dropped onto the floor, so frail that the wounded neck snapped from the impact, and her cream heel had to step in front of it's path to keep it from rolling. "Now, love. I won't be having any runaway corpses. Stay put, please." Said so nonchalantly as she pick up a tiny black tube, popped off the lid, and slid the dark crimson stick inside along the base of her lip. A slight moan pushed past her lips as they smacked against each other, looking as dark and beautiful as she felt with the fresh blood rushing through her veins. Oh, the night was so young, and she was just getting started.

New York City was like an American version of London. Simply replace Big Ben with the Statue of Liberty, and replace the beautiful, fit people with fat-asses who enjoyed screaming and had no self-control over what they ate. Voila, New York City. So strange to think that this is where the lovely vampire decided to spend some of her endless seconds at. After so many meals in once city, however, the cops begin to get so suspicious, which always meant that it was the perfect time for some foreign cuisine. Voila, New York City.

Heels confidently marched themselves through the streets with her eyes fixed straight ahead. She knew very well where she was headed; she had her eyes on this destination since she spotted it in the hotel room. The place itself wasn't all that spectacular, very similar from other bars in other cities, but it was certainly more lively than most of the other places in the area. And wherever there was plenty of life, Evelyn was more than happy to bring their deaths. A quick smile, it was all she needed to do to get past that pesky little red rope blocking off the entrance. Bouncers really were a lot nicer than how they're so often described.

Her attire didn't really match the club's scene. Whereas most of the people were dressed in colorful, flashy clothes that hardly covered any skin at all, she was more elegant than them tonight, like usual. A simple, cream colored dress with matching pumps, and a darker, beige sweater coat. Hardly the correct attire for a bar, but she didn't really feel the need to change in order to match the scene she was in. Truth be told, this woman probably could've shown up in a cardboard box and she would've still been allowed in the club. It wasn't what she wore that was attractive, or the color of her outfit that would catch their eyes. As she sat down at the bar, eyes fixed away from the large, dancing crowd behind her, she simply sat there and waited for the bartender to come to her. This entire scene was all rather routine for her. The bartender came, asked so politely what this woman would like to drink. She'd order the usual, scotch on the rocks, and then she'd turn around and take a glance at the crowd in front of her. A pile of nothing but sweat and hormones that danced around in the dim light and too-loud music. Hungry? Not in the slightest. Brandon was more than enough to satisfy her quench of blood for now, but who says that was going to stop her from having fun with some pathetic souls, tonight. Taking in a slight sniff, a small smile curved against her flawless face. And who said that those pathetic souls had to belong to humans, tonight?

Count :: 1011
Music :: Reclusion - Anberlin
Notes :: Hello, girls.

[* Charlie Poulien]

The men navigated the basement stairs backwards; some with dissipating smiles, and others with fading disappointment. Like pieces of a puzzle they shifted among themselves, hoping desperately to find the right fit with just the right view. None of those present were what any grand picture really needed.

They were accountants and stay at home dad’s.
They were waiters at fancy restaurants
They were people who waited for buses. Drank coffee. Smiled at perfect strangers.
Spilled coffee.

In the grand scheme of things they weren’t even border pieces – they were foliage or some obscure part of a bird’s wing. The saddest part of it all was that it took them 40+ years to become walking patterns of feathers or dreary-cotton clouds. Of course they were frustrated, it made perfect sense as to why someone would wager 50 bucks on the baby faced boulder of a man who pounded the shit out of some blonde smartass. Every guy in that room was craving the closest thing they could get to carnage. It was like porn to them. As they gathered once again, their hands busied themselves in returning the money offered for the fight.

Charlie remained idle on the cool cement floor of the basement, staring with lifeless eyes as the polished shoes of men perfected the circumference around him. A putrid liquid crept slowly into his parted lips, pulling every last speck of red it could from its spreading puddle to contribute to the fallen and massacred boy. The man he had been fighting with heaved, his palms to the flat of each thigh as he remained buckled over. Every drip of fallen sweat gathered into invisible blossoms on the floor, closing its small petals into a bulb before flocking back to the red and fatty features of the man’s face. The man remained idle only for a few minutes longer in the fire of his muscles.

The Earth took pity on Charlie and pushed him upward, allowing him relief from the clutches of gravity and it’s greedy feast upon his instability. His cheek; adhered by the thick of his blood to the ground, stretched slightly in protest for the briefest of seconds, before finally obliging the movement. The flesh of his cheek filled slightly as he hovered above the ground, flattening to its proper proportions only as he staggered unwillingly to his feet. The drunken sway of his footwork rocked his torso gently, moving a wave of weakness upward through the front of his neck. Rather than the ruckus of celebration from the group of onlookers, they instead withdrew their hands from the air and took back the horrid chants they screamed. The onlookers watched instead a miracle.

They performed in reverse, and instead of throwing punches at one another with whatever chance they got; they instead moved to heal one another. The opponent’s bulging knuckles scraped the front of Charlie’s neck in a downward motion, relieving him of a throbbing pain and erasing any immediate bruising that had developed on his skin. Charlie, in gratitude, brought his fist to the man’s nose only to heal it’s broken structure. Blood crawled along their skin in slow rivers, seeping into the abrasions both received and restoring any energy that might have been stolen. The men continued to perform miracles in their fight-like dance; taking punches away and healing in the process.

The men continued until they were both healed. Until they took back the promise to fight, and forgot about the anger they held for one another. Every man left, and after they left they continued to work backwards through their day. They no longer wore a shirt with a coffee stain. In fact, that shirt was put back in their drawers. This miracle of time didn’t stop there. Every man in that bar took back every mistake they ever made, every realization that their dreams couldn’t come true, and every misfortunate they ever had to suffer. They were new again, without the threat of failure or the need for practicality pushing them through their mundane 9-5 lives.

They were all astronauts, politicians, doctors… heroes. They were kids.

Charlie also moved backward in time, taking back every bad thing he said and every lie he spewed. The people he pushed away were suddenly there again, and all the punches he ever threw had been taken back – the need for them all but forgotten. His brother came back to life.
Then, his mother.
Charlie spent the rest of his years happy, until his birth too was reversed.
Cancer was forgotten.
Hunger was never an issue.
People devolved and the universe shrank into one, tiny bulb.

Unfortunately, men were men and thus irreversible.

~--------------*---------------~

Hours later, Charlie was sitting at the bar of a nightclub. It wasn’t his scene at all, but it was the closest place that served liquor past 10 on a weeknight. Arms resting casually before him, Charlie kept his gaze downward to the gleaming rim of his empty shot glass. Without even affording a glance at the bartender, his fingers tapped audibly against the chic top of the bar in demand of another shot. Brow raised, as a clean glass was set before him, Charlie glanced upward to the woman pouring his shot.

“Thanks,” he offered, without expanding on her beauty or anything else.

“You should really get that looked at.” With a nod and a raise of her hand, she angled her gestures toward his red streaked face. There were still browning patches of dried blood running down beneath his nostrils, and along his eyebrow. Clearing his throat, Charlie gave a nod and raised his shot glass to the woman.

“Already taking care of it,” he stated warmly. With a boyish smile to reassure the barmaid, Charlie downed his 4th shot of the night. Letting his eyes closed as it seared his throat, he gave a quick shake of his head before opening his eyes to the bar-space before him. Palms flat against its surface, he looked over the few pieces of tissue the bartender had given him prior to their latest conversation. They had gotten most of the blood, but the soft red streaking of pain and fluid remained on his unwashed skin. He was in rough shape, to say the least.

Word Count: 1049
Currently listening to... Pull A U - The Kills.
Notes: Sorry if this is an intrusion, figured I'd toss a human in the mix since it was an open thread XD.

[yvette gabrielle audley*]

Living, or not living was a great deal about having faith in others. Whether ones faith was based on their intellect, stupidity, bravery or cowardice the standard was the same. So when Yvette had decided that this evening was one for play she was already absolutely certain she would not spend it alone. Why waste the time? After all it was a dynamic universe was it not? Granted, many things stayed the same for ridiculous junctures of time but summarily things changed. This particular evening promised to be quite interesting. Why? Well unbeknownst to Ms. Audley as of yet there were three souls that would be affected this night by her true disregard for the human condition; life.

Her long, slender legs accommodated a lazy locomotion that brought her to the forefront of the establishment, dainty articulations winding around the handle and swinging the door open with obvious ease. If there was a time when she was not impressively strong she could not recall it. In fact, her human experience seemed very much like a bad dream. Or a boring dream. This, this was living. Which was ironic, because technically…she was dead. But the wicked smirk that peeled at those lips was enough to give rise to anyone’s attention…male or female.

It was promising, and yet truly hostile, like the beauty of a spider – elegant, graceful and most importantly…lethal. Yvette was predatory, she had accepted the role probably with a bit more gusto than most, without a second thought as to what she was doing and how it fit in with her human morals. Was she a human any longer? No? Then how could her human morals possibly apply? Precisely. Anyone who believed in reincarnation would know exactly what she meant. If they claimed not to…well, people were easily persuaded.

The black jacket she wore gave the appearance of modesty, when in truth, it only completed the ensemble. Some outfits simply called for a jacket and this one did. Having arrived punctually to the bar she had set in her mind, the click of those heels on the cement enough to make the bouncer glance up. And there she was. Perhaps he was a familiar – knew of vampires and was used by them. Because in that gaze was a mixture of awe and fear. Oh so you know this breed? Yvette could have purred, but instead offered him an elegant, knowing smile.

Stepping towards him without offering adequate space for chivalry, the heat of her breath expelled on the side of his neck, her slender articulations were creeping from his bicep down to his forearm before clasping his wrist. It was there that pressure was applied and as his eyes rounded with pain she whispered a single word, in French, mind you. “Satisfied?” As he gulped and stared at her, his jaw slack but his words enough to induce her humor. Please? She laughed openly at his soppy pleas for his life among other things. She listened for only a second before snapping in the direction of his jugular, inducing a feminine squeak from her captive before she brushed past him.

Once inside, the smell of fresh bodies overwhelmed her senses and the dry burn of thirst began to orchestrate its reign of terror upon her throat. She honestly wondered how many she could do away with while in the mob of dancing, pulsing bodies…But having recently fed, she reasoned she could wait…for a few minutes. Her pupils had widened, gaping to take it all in and giving her an utterly bat like quality. Oddly enough, she still maintained a beautiful appearance, somewhat exotic but a dark eyed beauty regardless. Commanding herself to focus on something beyond the buffet that was strewn out before her. One sniff towards the bar and aaaah. Vampire.

The scent said female, and what was this? The other immortal’s demeanor, down to the taut jaw and fierce eyes said that the blonde was just a wee bit angsty. But about what? What was there to be irritated about? They were in the midst of a feast. Nearly laughing at her as she scanned the crowd, Yvette had a growing inclination to knock her off her stool. Reason? Why not. That was as good a reason as any. A playful sneer brought those pointed incisors into view as she stared at her counterpart. When Yvette got that look, that expression when she was hungry and amused one would swear she was Satan’s mistress.

Not that it was just evil. It was dangerous and alluring, a flame for any moth to climb into. And when that moth happened to get there well…you know the rest. So the question was this: to dismantle or not to dismantle…Yvette could so easily tear the pouty little vampire off that stool, and not regret it even when she retaliated. She breathed in and relished the deeply affecting scent of all of those pulsing bloodbags. They were filled…No. While it was disconcerting to deny herself, the fledgling was aware that her fixation was more potent than most. She was vaguely aware of a necessity to calm herself – for the sake of survival alone. Not because a body count mattered. Humans were sluts. There would always be a bountiful amount of them.

So instead Yvette stared openly at the blonde vampire and made her way towards her. In the French immortal’s thoughts trailed a line of events in which she stepped towards the blonde and took a swing. Her backhanded palm connected with the side of the victim’s head and sent her toppling off the stool and onto the filthy floor. Following which she leapt to her feet, all rage and no thought. Stupid. This particular train of thought had Yvette beaming with laughter even before acknowledging the other. “Out for a drink?” She purred lavishly towards the other, taking no detour for names and all of that ridiculous blabber. Regardless of the fact that Yvette had in fact spoken to the other, she did not take a seat.

She stood. Her slender palms in the pockets of her jacket and her hips cocked – just enough attitude for a second glance. Even without conscious thought Yvette was being predatory, a lure in this case. Begging for some foolish human to make a pass at her and give her a reason to tear a few throats. Her gaze continued to venture even as she supposedly waited for that vampire to respond. Obviously she didn’t consider the blonde a threat, the thought even now was laughable. A grumpy vampire on a bar stool? No. And then, another distraction. An immortal just arriving had decided to wear clothing much like her own. At this Yvette’s nostrils wrinkled in distaste. Matching was never an option. Tipping her skull back, she observed as the vampire sat and ordered a drink. Perhaps Yvette was just insane, but why exactly were they all drinking alcohol when there was blood to be had?

Shaking herself of the confusion, it took two slow steps to bring her near her twinsie for the night. Bending elegantly at the waist, the moved the immortal’s ebony locks softly away from her lobe and murmured in a mixture of French and English. “You have good taste, mon ami.” As she drew away an amused smile was cast down at the woman whose hair was much like her own as was her build and dare I say the eyes as well? However, what O’dell’s eyes held in blue, Audley mirrored in a greyer, lighter sense. They were not as vibrant but their pale composition was enough to be just as enrapturing.

Glancing at the blonde vampire, she lifted a brow and tipped her skull – an indication that she had not forgotten her but had not finished with this one. In fact, Yvette had ventured an invitation – come and play. Or stay there and jut out that lower lip. And yet another distraction. But this one…far more demanding. It straightened Ms. Audley’s spine as she breathed in the heady scent of that all powerful substance. There was her excuse. “Excuse me.” It was whispered, devilishly, a second glance hazarded the other females.

To be frank, Yvette made no apologies for leaving them hanging onto a single statement. Neither did she care if they were offended by her brazen behavior. Why no apologies? She wasn’t sorry. Enthralled by the scent, the click of her heels was drowned out by the throbbing pulse of the bass that was nearly bothersome and absolutely obnoxious. There are fairytales about vampires and humans falling in love, or a vampire having a change of heart and turning their victim thus eliciting an untouchable bond that lasts for eternity. Unfortunately for Mr. Poulien this was not one of those stories.

Unfortunately for any sap, those stories should be obsolete in Yvette’s opinion. Any vampire who accepted a human as their lover was settling and an idiot. As she neared him, she observed his notice of the towlets that barkeep had offered and chuckled to herself. Taking a seat beside him, she crossed her legs daintily, not facing the bar but to the side, her elbows pulled back and resting on the bartop. “Don’t bother. You look positively edible as is.” It was said with a flirtatious smirk though her articulations drummed on the countertop. It communicated an intrigue…but not a desperation. And frankly, Yvette had all the time in the world. One wishes it could be said the same about poor Charlie.

“What, pray tell, put you in such a state?” Okay, so Yvette honestly could care less why he had dried blood on his face. The fact that it was there was quite enough for her. He’d won the jackpot for the evening, and at the same time he’d lost it all. Charlie Poulien, any last words?

x x x x x x x x x x

[/color][/center]

Word Count // 1, 648
Outfit // click!
Tag // Luce, Eve & Charlie
Music // Prelude 12/21 by A.F.I.
Comments // Doesn't bother me, Jeff but I hope Charlie survives.

[/blockquote]

[lucyloo]

Lucy’s eyes coaxed out the scene. The pulsing moves, the drinks being spilled by clumsy humans, it was fairly entertaining. Even if she didn’t get a midnight snack out of this, she would surely get a few laughs out of it. The drink ended up closer to the edge than she wanted. Trying to spill it on her, perhaps? She took a brief sip and sat it back, closer to the bartenders edge than comfortably standable. The cool liquid slithered down her throat as she let out a small sigh from between her lips.

A female, carrying the same stench as her approached Lucy’s breathing space from afar. A sudden backhanded slap met her face and make her head cock to the side. Fall off the stool? No. She wasn’t that unbalanced. Obviously the other bitch was just fucking with her. She let a small annoyed snarl escape from the nape of her throat as she picked the pocket mirror out of her clutch yet again. ”Nice hit. But trust me deary, if you’re trying to make me loose control you’ll have to try harder than that.” She brushed more powder across the area of contact and tossed it back into her clutch.

Her legs crossed out from under her as she rose to her barely five foot height. She placed the clutch on the bar and spoke at the bartender as he passed by her again, “Watch my purse.” The tone came out more alluring than usual, but was she really at blame? She turned once again, shooting a glance at the vampiress a few stools away. Her eyes fixated at the bath of blood in front of her. She made her way through the moving crowd, swaying her hips to the beat here and there as she passed more of the opposite sex.

She spied a man slouching against the wall in the distance. Get her much needed drink here? Certainly. She strutted toward the man as his drunken glance met hers. He was much, much taller than her. Taller than most of the people in the whole club, probably. She pressed herself against the wall directly beside him. She had managed to carry on a small conversation with the man before making the ‘drastic move.’ “Why don’t you and I, find some place private..?” He smirked slightly as she led him back through the crowd toward the back door.

Her heels met the pavement as she thrusted his body against the brick wall. She stretched up, reaching the nape of his neck barely with her canines. His alcoholic breath was strong, along with the glow that came off of his wedding ring that occupied his finger. She smirked devilishly, he won’t be beating his wife tonight. And she would make sure of it. She pulled his head down to a reasonable height and sank her canines into his neck, right above the pulse. The sweet spot.

After a few minutes his body became limp in her arms as all of the blood was circulating through her veins, instead of his. She released her grip as his body fell to the ground with a thundering bang. She patted her lips with the back of her wrist as she kicked the body to the side of the abandoned alleyway. A sigh left her lips once again, her hunger finally satisfied. She heaved open the door once again and made her way through the hallways back into the thundering main room.

She made her way back to her original seat, crossing her legs like she had never left. Her hand made its way toward the drink she had previously ordered. Her next craving? A celebratory cigarette.

Tag(s)[/color] anyone. someone come talk.
Words[/color] 606
Tunes[/color] None D:
Comments[/color] null.

[evelyn]

Setting down her unfinished drink, an unneeded breath of air was taken in only to release itself in the form of a sigh. Her entrance into the club did not go unnoticed by Evelyn, with her extremely dilated pupils and the rest of her body practically screaming her motives. Not only was that behavior a dead giveaway of far too many things that Evelyn herself hardly had the patience for, but to hold such a hungry attitude in a place filled with such disgusting cuisine was so disgusting and ... childish, which only lead Evelyn to assume one of two things; she was either just some wild, crazy woman who had remained in her constant state of blood-lust ever since she was sired. More likely, however, she was probably just new at being a vampire.

Fledglings had such a special place in this dead woman's heart. This was not some human-like child that was seen as an importance to older generations of vampires. Whereas humans die and depend on their offspring to carry on reproducing and surviving in future times, vampires hardly had any need to do that with newly sired humans. What future would that fledgling live in that the older vampire would not? Simply age wasn't going to define who would die sooner, and fledglings so often forget that little fact. They were almost more irritating than humans, themselves, with little to no respect for their elders, nor any experience to back up half of the shit they stir.

She would keep a small portion of her attention on her until either one of them left the scene. They were nearly as unpredictable as they were annoying, always needing to be babysat and sometimes reprimanded when their thoughtless, blood-thirst actions put a bad name to the species Vampire. Icy blue eyes held somewhat of a gaze rather than their usual piercing stare as she removed her glance from the vampire and scanned the rest of the dance floor. Her peripherals kept themselves aware of where she moved, though as a few more sniffs were taken in. Ugh, they were all far too drunk already, and the sobers ones were hardly worth her time.

The scent of blood was much stronger in a certain direction, however, and Evelyn made the choice to turn her head, letting the young vampire escape her supervision for a moment, and further investigate the reason for this potent smell. There were no shouted words or signs of aggression in this place, and yet there he was. At the end of the bar, he sat there with his face hung in obvious defeat. Most of the blood had dried up by now, which was a rather dirty sight. Had he found no need to slip into the restroom and clean himself up a little bit? The poor little naive human; he was practically bait that was just waiting for a hungry vampire to come up and take a bite. Hmm....

"You have good taste, mon ami."

Speaking of naive children, this one put herself far too close in danger's hands when she approached Evelyn in such a manner. Personal space may not have been an issue for this wild child, but when she comes across the wrong snake who was having a bad day, she'll regret getting so close to it's fangs. Fledglings, which was usually a word that was followed by a scoff, simply had no true concept of immortality, did they? Just because a vampire was incapable of dying a natural death, that didn't mean that vampires weren't capable of dying. Of course, Evelyn wasn't looking to deal with an issue like that, tonight, nor was she having a terrible day at all. So, this little thing would be best left unnoticed.

A dark brow arched at the girl's statement. She was most certainly not referring to the alcoholic drink in her hands, and Evelyn wasn't quite sure whether or not her mind was focused enough to notice such things as someone's attire or physical looks in general right nwo. her eyes rolled as the vampire took an obvious breath in, turning her head. She wouldn't bother asking what her statement referred to, because she was quite sure that in a few seconds, she would be ...

Gone.

Her next destination was just as obvious, toward the bleeding human, in such a speedy, determined manner that mimicked more of a whore than a shark; sharks only hunt when they are hungry, and she was more than sure that hunger wasn't the reason for this human's near death. Rushing through that young vampire's body was plenty of blood that didn't belong to her. Oh well, her blood-lust control was no concern of Evelyn's as she pivoted her heel and set down the unfinished drink, raising up her tiny clutch purse to grab a bill for it.

"Oh please, ma'am. You're fine."

Of course she was fine . Glancing up toward the male bartender, she gifted him with a feint smile, and took out a ten dollar bill, anyways, resting it on the counter. "You might as well keep this for yourself, then." No, he wasn't much of a help for her, tonight, but leaving a bartender without a tip wasn't a good idea if she planned on making any future visits to this particular club. Smart women know that a woman's best friends are always the bouncers and the bartenders. They're like your eyes and ears for who and what is going on when you're not around, and in Evelyn's case. They knew who was bad ... and who was deliciously good.

Even the most skillful predator has a dud night here or there, and this was perhaps one of those nights for this certain vampire. Nothing really held her attention long enough for her to stay in this club any longer. The food was spoiled, the company not tolerable, and the entertainment was just not that entertaining, which was alright. The night was still far from being over. Patience was always the key to hunting. There were nights where Evelyn didn't find a meal until about the tenth bar or third restaurant she found herself lingering in, and this was only her first.

With her heels clicking against the floor, she excused herself from the little party within the building, and exited out the same way she came in. Her head tilted slightly as she approached the bouncer, who's appearance was much more tense than she remembered when she entered the club. Hmm, eyes narrowed slightly when his met hers, then glanced away, then met hers again. Who caused her poor security guard to have such paranoia? Her eyes glanced down at a hand placed over another protectively, and a small smile crept against her lips. "Great place." Yes, that was a false, comment, but remember what was mentioned before about the importance of making friends in some situations. He was trying to hard to remain still as she came closer to him, and her icy fingers trailed along the arm of his suit jacket as even colder air breathed against his ear. "I can't wait to come back for more." And with that, she left the poor shaken man alone as she quickly turned and headed down the street to the next club.

Perhaps she would just come back for more, later. The bouncer's blood didn't smell too bad at all, and she always did enjoy building up a human's ego just to drop them to their knees.

[/b][/color] :: 1241
Music :: None
Notes :: Unless if someone else is planning on leaving the club and catching up with Evelyn, She'll be most likely leaving this thread. No offense to the human that joined, but Evelyn only does one thing with humans .. eat them. I didn't think you'd appreciate that too much [;[/ul][/blockquote]

[* Charlie Poulien]

Anyone would find the intention of coming to a crowded place just to drown people out a bit odd, but that was precisely what Charlie was attempting. His thoughts no longer lingered to provide commentary or awareness on the world around him, and instead focused on darker, imaginary realms. It was always peculiar to him, the way his brief and depressing fantasies of death or loneliness had such unavoidable charisma. He almost preferred them over happier thoughts. They kept him grounded, kept him real and restricted. He couldn’t bear the thought of hoping for anything anymore, as there was surely the process of a let down to cope with shortly after what you hoped for had expired. It was an unwanted sensation Charlie was all too familiar with.

Head bowed, Charlie clenched his eyes shut as the first wave of euphoria hit. The alcohol performed such a beautiful illusion, even when his eyes were held shut from any influence of color or structure. Closing his eyes did nothing to guard against the effective and dizzying spin of inebriation. It was oddly comforting, the unavoidable sensation of distortion….

He didn’t note the drawing presence of the dark haired femme fatale, a slender beauty whose waltz of confidence was drowned out by the overcompensating bass of the club’s music. Charlie did not care for the idea that company might soon anchor down into the barstool next to him. In fact, the thought almost merited an excuse to vacate the club (and hefty supply of alcohol) altogether. Mindlessly busying himself with shifting his supply of napkins, his face took on an expression that translated a false sense of hefty concentration. He hoped this alone would ward off any strays that decided it was their job to make his life ‘worth remembering.’ It didn’t take too long after he dedicated himself to this false sort of advertising for someone to accept the invite of an empty bar chair. Pretending as though he had yet to notice, Charlie could only hope that whoever would keep from talking to him.

They didn’t.

Charlie let out a quiet beat of a laugh at the woman’s insistence on the delectability of his appearance. Brow raised in amusement, the boy couldn’t help but smile into the shot glass he raised to his lips. Before he invested further into the miracle of a drunken stupor, he couldn’t help but fall at the chance of offering a few short words. She had done nothing wrong; it wouldn’t be fair to treat her as if she did. “Oh yeah,” he sarcastically responded. “I’m sure I look like a real treat.” Then came his shot glass. He had dispensed a sarcasm that lacked the sharpness of distaste, or the bitterness of annoyance. Instead, he offered his words in a warm and joking manner, as if to state (without actually stating) that he was fully aware of his horrid condition. Of course, he lacked a knowledge or perception of the supernatural, and so he in no way knew that she was merely being genuine by calling him ‘edible.’



He would be nice for the time being, genuine and charismatic until the encounter no longer served as merely a good time. The moment she began to threaten his privacy, or her curiosity mounted into something beyond a shallow conversation at the bar – he would end it. Placing his shot glass kindly to the polished surface of the bar, Charlie turned his head so that he could finally face his company. His eyes were glazed, and his jackass demeanor temporarily subdued. “Well,” he began. “It’s a little bit of a long story. But to put it in the shortest way possible, there was a fight.” His words threatened to slur together as they spilled from his lips, though they never actually slurred. He spoke in a tired and lazy fashion, before brightening his smile and changing the subject. He didn’t want to start a profound conversation about his hobbies, and why he was the way he was…

Blah blah blah.

“Anyway, enough about me.” He paused briefly, before continuing. “What are you drinking?” Rather than offering his attention to the woman, his eyes shot upward to the nearest bartender. His hand shot up and wavered before anyone took notice of him, though it wasn’t long before the bar maid who had taken care of him made her way over. As if he suddenly remembered his manners, Charlie turned to face the brunette, only to offer a very boyish and apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” his head shook dramatically before he offered his hand. “Name’s Charlie. I never asked what yours was, I’d be delighted to know.”

Charlie had a habit of saying things just to see what he could get away with. The end half of his statement definitely was one of those circumstances. It was corny, it was stupid, and it was a joke – though he wasn’t necessarily lying. He was genuinely interested in learning the girl’s name.

Word Count: 819
Currently listening to... This.
Notes: Disclaimer - I haven't slept in 7 days because of Pre-Production issues. Definitely not as eloquent as I could have written it, but it is a response nevertheless. Will get better, promise =[

[yvette gabrielle audley*]

It was shocking just how often human issues delved into the immortal world, Yvette thought, shocking that they should cater to any such standard when truly their brains should be impermeable. Their goals were clearly defined as was their purpose; people were the goal, and their only purpose was to “live” in their perpetual afterlife. Despite the general consensus that vampires were damned to an eternity on Earth, Yvette was not particularly saddened by the idea of being on the planet forever. She enjoyed watching the crumble of society, the metamorphosis of fashion and the decline of intellect. Humans could not educate themselves – some graduated high school without the capacity to read. So how could this end well?

Precisely. There was simply no way for the homosapiens to survive their own ignorance. Regardless, it would be fun to watch them try. Like a beetle trapped in a bowl, scratching frantically at the sides in hopes of escape the humans were probably used to exercises in futility. Silently she wondered if they ever realized how pathetic they were. They simply were no match for the superior races. They had become prey on their own planet. An entertaining notion to be sure but all the musings about humans and prey had given Yvette a thirst second to none. But once the French maiden got started in a scenario like this…the carnage would be endless. She distracted herself by listening to the disgruntled ramblings of the blonde vampire. What a spastic creature, almost worth pity….but not quite. She would be dining out this evening and therefore the world was hers.

It was all a rather large playground, the people in it? Snacks to fuel her energy. The werewolves? Puppies to be pet, abused, fed and discarded. Vampires? They were the commonfolk, people that were recognized as actual souls though it would probably not be a far guess to say that if she were dying…she would feast on one of them without a second thought. Selfish? Hardly. She simply capacitated a clear view of self preservation. If she ceased to exist the world would not go on – her world, and that my friends would truly be tragic. By this time she was abandoning the blonde – who, while exhibiting psychotic tendencies, was most disinteresting.

Her next subject was yet another dried older sphinx. Though her beauty mimicked those of Greek goddesses her responses was nothing short of boring. A single tick of her brow simply said “I am not amused”. Now kids, let’s get this clear right now. While Yvette has a fairly good disposition – friendly on most occasions though a bit sadistic, she has a bitchy side like everyone else. Press the button enough and its going to detonate. What she doesn’t have in years is made up for in sincere animosity. There are a great many things that the fledgling despised. Snobs. Perhaps this is why she didn’t waste too much time on any one soul. She didn’t care to know the rest because frankly they would be disappointing. And the youth had been disillusioned enough as a human. So most of the population now was effectively shunned .

Yvette did not often make friends, more like acquaintances and those too were few and far between. Why this barrier between her and the rest of the Earth? Just for good measure she would have said but to be honest…Giselle was the only vampire who held promise in the entertainment office and that was just because they were two of a kind. While their demeanors clearly varied, they had been cut from the same cloth. It was in Giselle that Yvette had the utmost faith. Anyone else…was expendable. And few even warranted her brief attentions. So while Ms. O’Dell had seemingly brushed off the vampire she was not in the least bit deterred, nor was she aware of the air her mannerisms cast about her. There were very few things that deterred Yvette from her mark once she found it…a turned up nose was not one of them.

It was positively obvious that the human was not particularly excited to have company. In fact the disdain on his brow was so plain that it induced a faint smirk, laughter dancing in the female’s eyes. Still her body had been angled away, her attentions honed on the sounds created by the speakers, the footfalls of the various persons in the room among other things. Some might construe this as scatter brained…but Yvette was processing. Try to focus when everything becomes amplified. It was simply a product of her youth and her will to remain in control for at least a short while longer. As he remarked in common response to her warm commentary, a slow smile preened her lips as she turned back towards him. It was her turn to lift her brows though a chuckle was omitted.

“Absolutely,” she assured in that clearly jesting voice. The sound was pure in a scenario filled with distortion, ringing softly before it dissipated upon which time she waited for the rebuttal to her inquiry. He was a quite character, from the way his shoulders hunched and his lashes fell guarded over his eyes. Paranoid, Yvette labeled. Though at this point it was probably a good idea to be afraid. Obviously he had no knowledge of anything vaguely near vampires or he would have been more careful. Ah, and there it was – his explanation. And as usual her profile fit; he was being vague, not disclosing any more information than was absolutely necessary. How funny. And sad. His voice was running together and she glanced thoughtfully at his beverage though her expression was unchanged.

It was not disapproval on her face but still that pedestrian, slightly removed, laughter. Never in her existence had the female been so quick to pick out a façade. And as she did her grin widened. What a beautiful fake, sir. You’re so obvious, do you know that? She wasn’t surprised. Humans had the subtlety of shot guns – they simply failed in all aspects. Ah and now he was going to try misdirection. It was always most amusing when she feigned following along with pitiful attempts of mortals to string her along a well paved path. A place she was fairly certain most women would have fallen into. The opportunity to talk about themselves was always so tempting. But far less tempting than the blood in his neck. Her lips ticked with the hint of a smile as she’d abandoned that somewhat comical expression of humor.

Yvette made it absolutely transparent that she understood what he was doing. That dark, somewhat cold glitter in her stare enough to suggest both her knowledge and compliance for the time being. Until she tired of this game of cat and mouse. “An Irish Cream coffee would do very well.” She suggested in a truly lazy tone herself. He was turning towards the bartender, and Yvette’s gaze slid down the pronounced curve of his jaw to his throat while she smirked only to lift her gaze. Her enamels tugged on her lower lip as she bit back a laugh at the vain attempt in courtesy. It’s okay Charlie. I don’t give a shit about that anyway. The thought flew through her mind just as violently as her previous musings on swiping the blonde off o f her stool. “Giving my name to a complete stranger? Charlie, you’re asking me to truly risk it…” Of course she said this with a dry laugh – purely amusing herself with the idea of a first name meaning anything. At this point she was teasing him. “Yvette.” She complied with an elegant smile, shaking his hand ever so gently before releasing it. Hello there.

x x x x x x x x x x

[/color][/center]

Word Count // Around 1,300
Outfit // click!
Tag // Luce, Eve & Charlie
Music // Nada! x.x
Comments // Bahahaa...sorry I took so long. Ray fails, you may stone her...

[/blockquote]

[* Charlie Poulien]

Regardless of whether or not his temporary counterpart had picked up on his initial mannerisms of slight hostility, she wasn't responding to it. Her attentions were paid only to the words in his statement, and not the air in which they were spoken; he couldn't help but feel partially amused. The way she neglected his icy signals was in no way short of smooth -- in fact, it almost made her lack of address to his attempts okay. Almost. A half smirk tugging at the corner of his lips acknowledged and appreciated her now obvious intellectual advantage over the large sum of the club's population. It wasn't every night he got to playfully banter with a woman who could make it to the end of her ABC's, let alone her sentence.

An Irish Cream coffee would do very well

His brow raised as his face scrunched with curiosity and amusement. The girl was different, he'd give her that. Granted, she wasn't exactly the kind of different that would change his life, but for now she would remain a refreshing change. The concept of coffee in an atmosphere that promoted drunken bliss was mildly entertaining to the dirty blonde, but only because he was already partaking in the affairs of inebriation. Beyond expressing quite passively how entertained he was (and for only the briefest of seconds), Charlie conveyed a sense of bafflement at the suggestion of coffee before alcohol. There was an established cycle of substance abuse between coffee and a drink, and it was almost always alcohol before caffeine. The classic was taking the poison before the antidote, there was simply no other way to meander through existence. At least, not in his mind.

It was only a matter of time before the woman would brave proving herself through a series of witty remarks, regardless of whether or not the intention was to impress him, or silently let him know that he was typically nowhere good enough to speak to her. He got the message, even without her seemingly unique and starved humor. Maybe she didn't have the audience she had with him in her usual crowd, but something gave him the off impression that her wicked sarcasm meant more than he could perceive. It didn't bother him enough to look deeper into it, or to arouse some sort of suspicion on his behalf. In fact, Charlie almost preferred to remain blind to her true intentions. He was a firm believer in letting whatever was to happen simply happen, anything beyond that required too much effort or concern.

His smile followed her sarcasm, enjoying every word as if it were a droplet of some rare nectar -- intelligence. Letting his head roll forward as he laughed quietly to himself, his hand raised with a wagging pointed finger to award the woman her deserved praise. After dropping his palm back to the flat surface of the bar, Charlie's head corrected it's position on his shoulders. His smile playfully graced his lips as he once more turned his attention to the dark haired beauty. Rather than maintaining a distance between the two of them, Charlie couldn't help but lean closer as he subconsciously engaged himself to the conversation. Whether or not he was aware of it, he was now locked in to (at the very least) a full conversation with the woman -- he was intrigued.

Giving my name to a complete stranger? Charlie, you’re asking me to truly risk it…

Head cocked and eyes downward as he considered his response, Charlie introduced a smile that was at least a little more intimate than the rest. "I am asking you to risk it. What's life without a little risk anyway? Surely, not a fun one. Besides, I can tell you for certain that taking risks is in your nature." Looking upward now from his lowered head, Charlie continued to smile before offering his two hands into view. He alloted the brief warning sign of a small beckoning for her to move closer with his fingers, before taking the liberty of holding her hands in his. He was bold, but he operated under the impression that most girls wouldn't mind brief contact -- not when they craved so much more than brief for a later hour that night. Sure, she was different, but she wasn't so different that holding her hand would put her off completely (he assumed, there were crazies out there after all).

Turning her right palm upward, Charlie kindly flattened her hand out by uncurling her fingers. Her left hand forgotten, Charlie stared down to her palm and carefully traced a box shape upon it with his index finger. "Actually, in Greek mythology there was a box given to mankind by the Gods; Pandora's box. The box was given this name after... a woman, named Pandora." He paused, briefly changing the shape he outlined into a circle before continuing -- his eyes never once leaving her hand. "Some say it was a jar, but it's shape isn't important. All you need to know is that it was a container of sorts, and that it held... terrible things. Things like plagues, diseases, horror and death for all of humanity. Now, you might ask, why would a God do something so cruel?" He lifted his eyes to her again, before smiling and responding in a sidetracked manner. "I'm only a God of so many things, so I couldn't answer." He implied of course the sexual content with his tone, before continuing on a more serious note. "But I'm assuming that immortality changes the spirit of one in a mournful way. Power corrupts, right? Anyway."

His eyes fell back down, smile wearing slightly thin, but still entertaining any onlookers. His focus was on the story being told, and on the patterns his finger relayed much like a breath to her hand. "So, being a woman... taking a risk, she opens the box and lets out all of those horrors. Of course she closes it quickly once it's been opened, because it was never her intention to bring about such pain. And she is scorned, told never to open it again, yadda yadda." His fingers made their way along hers, they were tiny in comparison to his; a detail which he silently enjoyed. "Well, Pandora doesn't really take on the scorning or the advice to never open the box again. So, she ventures to the box, and risks one more time opening it. God knows why." A slight laugh and a shake of the head before ending his point. "Anyway, so she opens it, and the last thing... the very last thing in the box that never got released with the rest is finally released into the world. That last element is hope. So, thanks to women, mankind has hope. You'll never know what good can come out of a risk."

The story wasn't just a story, it wasn't just some thing he told women to prove something to them, it was actually sort of like a test. Some women picked up on the whole factor of plagues being tossed into the world and how horrible that was. Others, took pride in the fact that hope at one point was their sole property. It told a lot about who they were. Charlie preferred chaos. He preferred the torment of plagues and danger, solely because hope was what made most people human. It took a lot of endurance to have hope, and he credited most people for that. Sometimes he would up and lose his.

Releasing his grasp on her hand, Charlie offered one more smile before turning himself to the bar again. Drink in hand, he brought the rim of the glass to about the level of his lips, before his smile brightened and he spoke. "Yvette. That's a nice name, I've never met anyone named Yvette. Now I'm kind of glad I have." His head fell back to race his shot glass as the burning liquid trespassed into his system. It was a good sensation, particularly when you were a man who had a lot of things to forget about. "Not to seem forward, I mean usually I would be but you just don't seem like the type. Do you need to get out of here? I mean... coffee at a bar? You couldn't be at least a little less obvious?" It was a friendly jest as opposed to an attack, one he finished in a smile.

Word Count: 1398
Currently listening to... This.
Notes: Yayayayay for it

[yvette gabrielle audley*]

[atrb=width,300,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=040201] Yvette Audley was a killer. It wasn’t a stipulation or a poetic metaphor it was fact. She killed people. Not without probable cause – feeding herself seemed an adequate reason for death to follow her very steps. That was an unfortunate bit of information that this particular human was not privy to, poor soul. Generally the conversation did not last long, and the fledgling found herself focused solely on the end product, but how difficult it was when he seemed genuinely entertained by her words. Not one to be distracted by the frivolities of social molding, Audley’s crystalline eyes had situated on the creases of the man’s brow and the way his lips moved when he spoke. There was no aspect of this lout’s being that she had not begun to speculate on. There was intellect to be found in those slightly glazed eyes, the ones that were presently focused on his beverage. It took conscious efforts not to sprout fangs and rip his throat out there on the bar. Delicious. At this thought, she’d absentmindedly licked her lower lip, a dainty very nearly provocative motion. How ironic – the product of her provocation being provocative in itself. As a creature whose sole purpose in life was the effective stalking and/or seizure of this race, she mused that it was probably her attention to detail that coaxed the reticent observation of the change in his demeanor. My, my, cutting to the chase aren’t you? I am asking you to risk it, he said, and Yvette smirked slowly in response, those brilliant eyes aglitter with silent laughter at how seriously he’d taken her japing words. …I can tell you for certain that taking risks is in your nature. This amused the woman, and she was seriously inclined to ask if he’d known her in a past life. Lips twitching at the thought of saucer eyes gazing up into his features in wonder, what a joke. He probably received such a response all the time, especially if he spoke like this to anyone else in the establishment. She could very easily imagine the women, with their fake hair color, plumping lip gloss and low cut shirt dash dresses goggling at him, “Mutual I’m sure.” And yes, they certainly were posing a fashion statement and that statement was “Bend over and I’ll show you.” Still, the immortal’s lobes caught his words, as her nerves caught the heated sensation of his hands retrieving hers. She was not concerned about him harming her, or meaning her offense. Yvette was not a particularly high maintenance woman, another contrast to the eldest Audley girl, no doubt. The vast temperature difference between her corpse and his body was enough to make the heat of his enveloping palms come to the forefront of her awareness. Naturally she would be following the shape he drew out of curiosity for the most part. A small, unnecessary, sigh exited her lips as he began to speak again. Story time, she thought with resignation. It took great effort for her to not sit back and doze or at least pretend to doze. She couldn’t remember the last time she actually slept. The change of the shape as the story progressed was noted but not responded to. Of course, it translated into him thinking that it was a change in the story – a transition.Enter woman. You see, being inside Yvette’s head and witnessing her facial expressions were two entirely different things and given the choice I’d choose to be inside her head; far more entertaining. Those features though…they were enrapturing, alluring…provocative. She was a predator, and it was that single instinct that drove her to remain focused as he spoke. Meeting his stare with the same speed one would expect from someone who had been paying attention all along, Yvette smirking lazily at him. I’m only a God of so many things. Arching a brow, the vampire smiled, a slow, devious grin that denied any sort of malevolent intent. Promises, promises. But unfortunately, again, for Charlie, she was not that kind of girl. There was nothing particularly flirtatious about the vampire, just dangerous enough to be intriguing. Intensity, she roared it. ”Power corrupts.” She seemed to agree in an absent minded fashion. Yvette looked so placid, cool and composed and yet utterly impish – like a child whose time has yet to come but you just know that mischief waits in the wings of time. Then again, that’s what they found alluring…that is what they wanted. And we Frenchies, we aim to please. The end of the story was not surprising – he wanted her to risk something, having a sad ending would definitely not serve the purpose. By the end though it was clear that she was entertained, a smile quirked her lips and she took a sip of the steaming caffeinated brew. ”You know that’s a nice story, but the moral’s probably missed. Without plague and death there would be no reason to enjoy the pleasant things. Adversity has its place.” Pausing as she tipped her glass in what could be construed as a mock toast. That’s a nice name. I’ve never met anyone named Yvette. Now I’m kind of glad I have. A brow quirked at this, the ghost of a feigned pout toying with her lips. Only kind of? Running her tongue over her fangs, she breathed a slow sigh. At this rate, she did not doubt that one day he would seriously regret ever having met a woman named Yvette. Arching a brow as he knocked back yet another drink. Not to seem forward, I mean I usually would be but you just don’t seem like the type. Do you need to get out of here? I mean…coffee at a bar? You couldn’t be at least a little less obvious? A laugh dancing past her lips and she shook her head, taking a sip of her drink and sighing as it rolled down her throat. Completely useless liquid, coffee, she did not benefit from a buzz and the taste well…let’s just say it did not even compare. Blood. Now that thought got her right back on cue. Breathing a slow sigh, she stared lazily at him, a small smirk evident on those perfectly shaped lips. ”I come for the atmosphere and to listen to the drunks sputter. You’re ruining the ambiance, Charlie.” Naturally, that dark glitter in her stare communicated adequately that she was nowhere near serious. Stretching slowly, her arms extending over the bar and clasping on the opposite side, she relished in the feel of her spine pulling to its extent before she leant back, and straightened once again. Ah. Silly boys, in silly bars, with silly stories and silly smiles. -------------------------------------------------- count: 1,120 outfit: see above. comments:Omnomnom. Precious babies. They silly!

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