[ dear enemy ] dante

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,false][bg=000000] Weapons come in many shapes and sizes. Some are small, unassuming and easy to conceal. Others are intimidating, and loom above the heads of the pedestrians. And not all weapons have ammunition, some are but the choice words of an individual, the back handed slap of society to the poor, the well kept knowledge of sealed lips. The subtle danger wrapped in a coy grin, the softest touch, a truly meant kiss...the promise of undoing that hung on the air at the mention of such things speaks enough truth to the heart. And who better to know that than Sombra Delgadillo? She knew all of them, had both used and experienced the devastation of a well placed land mine such as those, and still roamed the Earth freely. Moreover, the wag of her hips suggested that Sombra Delgadillo owned the world she tread on. Everything, from the way she walked to the defiant tip of her chin, to that predatory glimmer in her sweeping gaze, suggested her bite was far worse than her bark. The crimson locks that grew upon her skull trailed down nearly to her back side, flowing breezily with each stride. Her lips were set into a fine line, pressed together and her brows set in determination. She had a purpose this morning, an errand to run down in the Bronx. A particular gun store had gotten a bit lax when it came to carding the juveniles that waltzed through the place, and after some twelve year old had shot his mother in the face Sombra was a little more than peeved. She wanted blood. The alpha wore leather. Scored leather pants, a bright red tank top and a leather jacket, with a pair of red studded pumps to match. It was both provocative and intimidating, usually not what she aimed for. The she-wolf, as a rule, did not beg for attention, but this evening was a different story. On her right hand, disguised as a stylish gold connector ring between her digits was a pair of brass knuckles. Someone's jaw was going to hang before the evening was out. The familiar, putrid, scents of New York flooded her senses, diluting the trail towards this particular shop. No matter. She knew of the place. She'd left her car, no way she was driving it in this area - the audience would have probably put their grubby paws all over the gleaming Audi. Scowling as the thought crossed her mind, she calmed moments later - appeased by the recollection they wouldn't be touching it because she hadn't driven. As the establishment came into view her nostrils flared, pupils narrowing. It was a special breed of scum, this lot, she suspected they were into the drug market as well as arming the under-aged masses. Neither of which did she condone. And in a place most acknowledged as her territory, not condoning it didn't mean she cooled her heels and bitched about it to her friends, it meant she marched her skinny ass down there and did something. In this case it meant taking out the trash. Breathing a sigh, she opened the door, the shady creatures that hovered around the entrance eying her as if they meant to begin salivating while she stood. Pursing her lips, she slipped through the aisles back towards where the cash register and the higher priced weapons were. Innocently leaning over the counter, she rested her elbows on it, staring down through the glass at the shining pistols below. One of the grease wrought idiots that worked at the shop sidled up, clearing his throat somewhat obnoxiously before speaking. Duuh, can I help you with something, hot stuff? Or did you possibly wanna help me with somethin'? Her lips ticked, so predictable. Straightening with agonizing slowness, she eyed him, gaze slipping from his face down to his shoes and back up. Sizing up the man, though a devilish smile had crept onto her sunkissed features. "I'd actually like to speak with the manager." Biting her lower lip, she lent down and whispered in a tone with agonizing deliberateness. "He and I have a little unfinished business." At the idea that his boss presently had something going on with her, he sharpened and nodded with forced respect before waddling off assumedly to fetch Mr. Bossman. Leaning back against the countertop, her eyes glazed over the firearms that lined the walls thoughtfully. She meandered towards the shotguns, her delicate fingertips running over the smooth barrels thoughtfully only to have the sound of footfalls drag her thoughts away from the nostalgic images she had been indulging. Turning on her heel, her mouth twitched with something akin to a bemused smile as she stared at the thoroughly pierced man. There had to be ten piercings on his face alone. "Donovan, you've been a naughty boy." It was murmured as she stepped a little closer, adequate space between them but enough proximity to convey they were having a private conversation. "And I know you watch the news." Now, while Donovan wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed he definitely understood the she-wolf, even knew who she was and he was already scowling slightly. What I sell and whom I sell it to is my business, Sombra. She straightened, looming over him while she stared down her nose. Up til this point she'd had her hands at her sides, and that distance she'd carefully calculated? Now served a purpose. With one abrupt uppercut to the jaw he was off his feet and smacking on the cold stone floor. Stepping forward while he tried to gather his wits and crawl back, she stepped on the crotch of his pants, assumedly right below anything worth stepping on and effectively stopped his attempts. The funny thing about these men was they had no loyalty to eachother, and because of that no one was coming to the Boss's aid. It fact it looked quite apparent that were eager for her to do what most thought was coming and blow his face to hell. Examining the glinting black knuckles and his already bruising chin and lip, she tilted her head. "I really should have figured these out when I was younger." Shaking her head, she eyed him. "I think you would have been persuaded by now, that it's all my business.". count; 1000+ tag; Dante dress; Click! comment; nope.

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[dante]

It'd been a long day. It began late in the afternoon, and that's where its length grew from. Shaded, the sunlight didn't touch his skin and boil him alive, but it wore on a man all the same. He may as well be out on a battlefield, slowly making his way through a minefield never knowing if the next step would be his last. Feign a rare disorder leaving him sensitive to sunlight? That might work, but if there was just one Human or Werewolf on the lookout for Vampires he'd be in a world of hurt faster than he could blink.

Why the long day? Shops had bad business hours for Vampires that's why. Yeah, 8 to 5, why the fuck not, right? Even Humans had trouble getting to these places during their normal hours seeing how they worked the same hours. So there he was, prowling the streets of the upper New York City metro. The Bronx. Dante liked what they were doing with the place, not that he remembered what it looked like before a year ago. News said things were looking up.

His black boots came to a stop five feet from the door to a gunshop. Two, pale blue eyes looked out at the creatures loitering about the door. They seemed distracted. Noise coming from inside the shop--Vampire senses, pretty damn handy.

Even with the sky growing darker overhead, Dante had left the black facemask wrapped about his head and the wide-brim hat on top covering his short, dark brown hair that barely hung down the back of his neck. Both hands were in the deep pockets of his long, leather coat that held close to the outline of his muscular frame. He was no Arnold Schwarzenegger competing for Mister Universe, but it wasn't hard to drop someone to the floor with one blow--especially if they were Human.

So, the commotion inside. Not what he was here for, but the evening was young and he was still looking for the right gunshop. The type that sold Special Deliveries/Orders/Care-packages, or whatever other euphemism they wanted to use. Handguns were a dime a dozen. Shotguns a quarter. What Dante liked were the expensive weapons that civilians shouldn't play with. Old habits died hard; or, in his case, never died.

Not letting some Human spat get in the way, however, he drifted closer to the door and ignored the looks the people cloistered outside gave him. Was he a fool going in there? Was he crazy? Couldn't they see the woman about to beat the man's face in?

The door jingled. He stopped in the doorway and let the reinforced frame close behind him. The scent of blood filled his nostrils just as soon as he'd set foot inside the store. Dante managed to keep his eyes steady and his body from swooning, but he felt his heart--or "heart"--begin to race as a haze settled over his vision. Damn it, he swore to himself as he fought to retain his composure. Why the fuck did I set foot in here? The thirst for that sweet, scalding, crimson blood cried out to him.

I didn't crawl out of that forest to get myself killed, Dante spat at the impulse to go raving mad on the joint.

After a few seconds, he reached up to pull the face mask down as the urge to ravage everyone there diminished. It was a pain being a young Vampire. Especially one that trained itself control using skills and exercises he couldn't remember learning. "Am I interrupting?" Because he hoped he was. Whichever party was the "bad guy"--assuming both parties weren't equally worthless--Dante wanted to help them get what they deserved. Yeah, most people tried to stay the hell out of trouble, but then Dante never felt like most people. Practically all of his skills had to do with getting into and then out of trouble alive, but he couldn't say the same thing about his opponents. Now? What were they going to do, shoot him? Better be a headshot, because otherwise one of them was ending up a happy meal.

As he stood there, Dante detected another scent. It was hard to make out with his senses going into "blood, blood, blood" mode, but it was familiar. He got the impression of the forest for some reason. Lingering out there a few months to make sure he didn't bite off the head of every Human he met had given him a chance to smell all sorts of new and interesting things--not all of them unpleasant. His eyes were drawn to the woman in particular. It was something about her... and he didn't mean the "I'm going to fucking beat your face in" bloodlust in her eyes and the matching attire. Truthfully, he figured she was damn hot, but now wasn't the best time to ask her for her number.

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,false][bg=000000] There are some things you get used to, and some things that no matter how many times you're exposed to them you can't seem to grow a stomach for them. As the bells towards the doorway rang, Sombra endowed a haphazard glance, her dangerously calm eyes hinging on the darkly dressed individual. While her pupils had already narrowed, a swift inhale through her flared nostrils confirmed her suspicions. Immortal. Nearly cursing under her breath, she turned her attention back to the man she presently had pinned under the heal of her pumps, a brow ticking as she stooped with a devilish smirk. "You see, if I had a brain in my skull, I'd let him have you and be done with your bullshit." It was spoken in nothing higher than a malevolent whisper as she released him. "The next child I see holding anything other than a toy train will be the end of you. Won't even matter if it was your doing. So it'd be in your best interests to make certain it doesn't happen again, mm?" She was eyeing the man as he scrambled backwards, attempting to use the countertop to help him to his feet. As the immortal grew closer, Sombra carefully took note of her surroundings, gauging which weapons would be of the most use should it prove an unfriendly encounter. Am I interrupting? She smirked somewhat lazily, folding her arms over her chest though she hadn't taken the knuckles off her hand and they glinted as she did so. "Just a conversation between friends." She muttered, carefully slanting her gaze towards the recovering store owner. "But by all means, if you need a snack." She indicated the now standing man, who cast a look of horror first to her then the individual in the trench coat. "Not like he's worth the air he's breathing." Wandering back towards the shotguns she'd previously been eyeing, she slid one off the stand, aimed it at the human briefly and then rested it against her shoulder. "Put it on my tab, Donovan?" Like she had one. Sure, put it on the "i didn't blow your face off" tab. Casting a passing glance at the immortal, her pupils narrow and mistrusting as they generally were when confronted with his race. All they brought about was bloodshed after all. Not that she was one for the Peace Corps herself, but at the end of the day she had limitation to how much blood she could bathe in. He didn't. In fact, the more the merrier. The remnants of Sombra's human girl trembled at the idea, though Sombra the wolf was having none of that. She'd come up against these creatures before and was still standing. Though presently she wished she had her blow torch with her….And while she couldn't read his thoughts so much he was right. Those eyes of her…they were livid and unforgiving, as if the happiness had been robbed from them or at this point given away. The she-wolf no longer trusted misguided hope, or the words of men. If she didn't trust men, imagine what she thought of vampires. There was both fear and animosity, mostly because the grand total of her pleasant encounters with vampires was a shining four. The rest? Didn't end so great. In fact, the blow torch, she realized, got a lot of face time. No pun intended. Shifting where she stood, she eyed him. "Nice outfit." He looked like something out of a Van Helsing movie. Turning on her heel, she trailed out of the store, the gun slung over her shoulder. Leaving the vampire to his own devices and the store keeper to a night spent relocating his balls. count;No idea tag; Dante dress; Click! comment; Sorry for the shortness - was short on time. ><.

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[dante]

Dante stood in place as the woman strode to one side to pick out a shotgun for her collection. Her invitation to use the Manager as a snack was tempting--very, very tempting--but there were too many witnesses. They'd need to be slaughtered as well if he took the Manager, which would then bring in the Police and a lot of unwanted attention. So, despite the burning need to tear the man's neck open and drown in a sea of blood, the man in black remained where he stood.

As the unknown woman drifted by to leave the store, his eyes glazed over. Her scent filled him. Unmistakable. Unforgettable. There were plenty of women that could talk a good talk, but this one was willing to back up what she had to say with action. The type of action Dante knew well even if he couldn't remember the details. And she was leaving...

A few steps brought him around the counter. The Manager cringed and balled himself up in the corner where he stood, nearly about to wet himself. What had the woman meant by 'snack,' right? Fortunate for him, the Vamprie reached out and plucked a box of shells from a shelf. He didn't even give the man the benefit of a witty quip. What was he going to do, crawl on the floor clutching his balls threatening to shoot?

Looked like the opportunity to pick up some hardware had been lost, at least for now. The man was still alive, however, and Dante hadn't done anything to assault him; there was still a chance he could return later. Not that this place was the only one around that could get him a deal. Hooking up with the Manager's least favorite person might even bring the price down--wouldn't want a repeat visit for upsetting a "friend."

As for that mysterious, hard-as-nails woman there remain plenty of time for action. Dante wasn't even sure why he wanted to follow her. Was it blood? Was her scent simply intoxicating to him, forcing him to follow? Maybe he was interested in her body, or her personality. Didn't know. Didn't really take a moment to think on it either. She'd slip away if he wasn't fast enough.

As he stepped back onto the sidewalk, facemask pulled back in place obscuring the lower half of his features, the Vampire focused his senses of sight and smell to locate the bold, commanding female strolling away shotgun in hand. Whatever chatter those outside had about him entering the shop washed off him like a light rain. Their opinions about recent events weren't at all important. Let them get drunk and ramble about it to someone that could bother to feign interest in them.

A brisk walk sent him after Sombra. "You forgot something," he called out to her when the distance between them closed. The box of shells had been pocketed into his left pocket; a lone case flicked out at Sombra's back expecting she'd catch it easily. "Name's Dante." Not that she'd asked, but he was asking. She couldn't just run off. Them being 'immortals' aside, he liked how she handled things. Excitement was what kept life--or after-life--interesting.

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,false][bg=000000] Alright so here are two things that Sombra Delgadillo isn't fond of - vampires, and vampires following her. Both spelled trouble and frankly you couldn't have one without the other. She was on edge as is, had been for months now. Joseph had vanished into the air as they all had and it was the equivalent of revelation - no one could ever love the unloveable, because then they cease to be what they are and Sombra could never stop the crazy train that was her existence. Couldn't become less than the monster she was. It was her favorite dream and her worst nightmare. A snarl nestled itself in the depths of her throat as the sound of footfalls tagging behind her registered in the lycan's brain. And this without looking at all inviting. In fact this evening Sombra appeared more standoffish than usual. She looked about ready to rip someone's arms out of their sockets and beat them with the instruments. Scowling she didn't stop for the man, not as he trailed after her anyway. But as the sound of the plastic being flicked was communicated she turned on her heel in time for her palm to snap out and catch it before it hit her. Now, generally this would be a feat but we just finished discussing how on edge she was. There were very few things she missed in her present state of "high alert". Eyeing him somewhat dangerously, her lips made no move to turn into a thankful grin, nor did they pull back into a frown deeper than the one she'd already developed into an expression. Silly boy and his assumptions. He assumed she cared what his name was. Her pupils had digressed to minimal slits of scrutiny as she held the shell, bringing it up to eyelevel. "Have you ever had one of these explode inside of you?" She paused, giving him a chance to think about it or answer. "Hurts like the blazes, and the odds of finding all the little bastards is slim…I'm Sombra. And if you screw with me I'll show you what it feels like." Her gaze had abandoned the shell to fasten on the mask he wore, not particularly caring for the thing. It made him look a bit like a circus freak afraid to show his warts or something. Still she remained silent for a moment, pursing her lips disagreeably. "What exactly did you want?" Honestly she did have things to do. Which was a first. Sombra wasn't one to be found doing anything beyond tinkering with her beloved automotive, but since picking up New York as a territory it had become essential to stay on top of things. And tonight she had to get back to California. The spring was young and that made all the wolves restless and crazed. Preparing for the mind numbing heat of summer and the flames that came with it. "I genuinely don't have an eternity to wait for you to answer…" In fact she didn't have ten years at the rate she was going. Sombra never planned things more than a month ahead of time. Because as often as she confronted death it seemed a waste - she might very well be dead by morning. The wolf was hell bent on surviving, but the way it did so seemed a little self destructive. Instigator, the one that picked her fights and picked them often, I might add. It's never struck me this way, but she looked much like the phoenix, having risen from the ashes over and over again, her lips and hair scorched red and her eyes a heated chestnut color with so much ferocity loaded in them it practically made you recoil as if you'd been slapped. And it was still there. Once you recovered and made yourself look again. She was relentless, headstrong, hostile…so many things that are so often seen as negative. And she wasn't sorry. Sorry was a word you used when you thought there was something wrong or when you believed you'd done something wrong…Sombra didn't see her persona as wrong. She saw it as alive. And that had to be enough. Because if it wasn't she'd be reduced to a twenty five year old Alpha she wolf with virtually no one on her side but the pack she governed in a distant way, carefully separating her emotions from the individuals within. Everyone she'd known or be been close to had funneled down through the cracks and dissipated. And it was both unnerving and disappointing. Shifting her weight, she arched a brow at the masked individual, expecting some sort of response and it'd better be damn quick because he had six seconds before she turned on her heel and kept walking. count; 799 words tag; Dante dress; Click! comment; Woot. Guess I should have warned you about the hostile?? xD

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[dante]

Dante stopped when the woman turned and caught the shell as he'd anticipated. Not terribly surprising how fast her reflexes were. The scent wasn't strictly Human. He was a young, self-trained Vampire, that was well acquainted with the blood of simple Humans--they were quite delicious--but the scent of Vampires and Werewolves were still quite foreign to him.

Truthfully, the woman could be a doppelganger for all he knew; not that his whimsical sense of past seemed to suggest those were real. Everything was absolutely scattered and came to him as impressions or shadows of their former selves. Knowledge without context. The idea of a shapeshifter did not settle well with him. 'Werewolf' was, however, quite plausible. It was the one word that kept creeping back to the forefront of his mind as he savored her scent.

She was not amused to see him there, and her question kept him from trying to move a step closer than where he'd stopped. "Not that I recall," was his simple reply to her otherwise malicious question. Fear? Not on any level that would otherwise impair judgment or movement. True, he was young as a Vampire, but he'd a few encounters behind him that'd demonstrated it wouldn't be easy to kill him--a shotgun shell wasn't one of them. It would hurt though. On some level.

Sombra. A name to the woman with the scent of the wilds.

Sombra demanded answers and demanded them quickly. Impatient. Militant. Domineering. Hot.

The man reached up with his left hand and pulled the face mask down so it settled about his neck. It was dark enough now and he'd left the mask in place only to keep those gawking Humans from making any descriptions to the Police. Again, unwanted attention. "You." What? Make up an elaborate story full of bull shit and wonder? "Your scent. It reminded me of the forest. I've never smelt it so strong before." He'd caught a whiff of a werewolf before, but it wasn't the same. Sombra was different. Was it her force of personality? Strength? Obviously held some manner of authority with the way she carried herself. Age? Not that he'd ask; immortals must really hate that question.

"And I was wondering," Dante reached up and tugged his hat back over his head with his left hand while using the right to slip a cord down from inside the top; the wide-brimmed accessory fell against his back, leaving his golden, ruffled locks free to breath in the night air. "What stories I should believe about Werewolves." A smile pulled his lips up at the corners. Hell, if Sombra wanted to rumble--and if that's what Vampires and Werewolves did in the real world--then they could get some action lined up right then and there. Be kind of nice to know if that was how these sort of encounters played out, though, for future reference. Had to admit, there was some instinctual urge not to play nice with Sombra, but that could just be some crazy desire to taste the blood of a werewolf--it was something he hadn't tried yet.

Both hands were left hanging at his sides, out of the pockets, as they stood apart. If things got nasty Dante was ready to return the favor; second she began to whip the shotgun up he'd spring out his own package and they could have a party out on the street. Maybe they could get the whole neighborhood in on the fun. Urban warfare, yeah, so damn exciting. Never knew when the fuckers would pop out from around the corner. Had to admit, though, Dante didn't have a single idea where that thought came from, but he loved feeling the adrenaline pumping. Civilian casualties? Yeah, he was conflicted on that; hadn't made up his mind on whether he cared or not. Got eternity to figure it out.

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,false][bg=000000] The absence of fear didn't hinder the she-wolf, whose eyes remained level for most of the exchange. Not that I recall, Her lips ticked, always glad to be the first with such things. And it really wasn't that she thought it would have any lasting effect on him, it was the fact that…she got to shoot him with her shotgun. So much better than shooting at inanimate objects. It was difficult to understand her. She wanted peace, oh how she wanted to settle down, have a nice family…be normal. But she didn't want an average…normal life. There had been plenty of chances for that, chances for her to drop the gun and pick up an apron. Sombra wasn't going to have it. The lycan required a reason to do so. As per usual it wasn't going down without a fight, and if in this case "going down" meant surrendering her freedom to be someone's housepet housewife? Forget it. Her nostrils had flared, as they always did when in the company of the undead. The inner animal somewhat unhinged by the notion of something actually deceased roaming the earth. Taking in his features as he dismantled the shade her expression was unchanging. Pale. He was pale, like they all were, but not ugly. His eyes were either entrancing or suspicious in appearance, commanding that she get lost in them or keep an eye on the individual or she'd have fangs digging into her neck. As usual, the she-wolf opted for the safer course of action - don't let him too close. You. Now that sounded familiar. Oh wait. Josef had answered the same way. It was an adequate trigger, shrouding her in the bitterness of defeat and defiance. "I am not a commodity to be had," she snarled, tangible bite in her tone. "It's what we all smell like…," she murmured absent mindedly, not particularly caring for a label but it would move attention from her to a generalization, something she could easily manipulate. She wasn't about to turn her back on him. No for all of her insanity and reckless behavior the lycan devoted a commendable amount of time to not being chewed on by one of these guys. As Dante seemed to be pondering something the she-wolf sized him up, albeit lazily. All black fashion statements were out of style though, no matter where you were. And it made him look paler. She nearly sighed as he began to speak again - not free just yet. And I was wondering, He adjusted himself again. What stories I should believe about Werewolves. Squinting at him, it was easily pegged; fledgling. "You have surprising control." It was softly, somewhat resentfully growled but she noted the smile on his lips with discerning eyes. Pursing her lips, she appeared to ponder the tales spun about werewolves. "We don't live forever. We don't become rabid or something during the full moon, though it requires a change. And you and I. We don't mix." It was said with finality though she didn't offer any sort of motion. A sort of 'you can go now' thing. She'd offered impersonal, safe information to give. Not like most vampires didn't know those things anyway. He could have learned them in time. But presently she was tired, and another scrap on her hands wasn't on the "To Do" list. The lycan chomped at the bit, having every intention of trying her hand at this youth, but Sombra herself was exhausted, worn down by the travel and anticipating the night of travel ahead of her. Her shoulders nearly sank at the idea of the drive, but duty called. Honestly she needed to invest in a private jet to ferry her from one place to another. Next year, she decided would be a good time for that. She wanted to have over a million in savings before she bought anything. Business had picked up when she became Alpha of New York though, an influx of werewolf customers following it. They trust her with their cars. She gave them fair discounts. Eying the immortal with that predatory gaze, she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, leaning the gun back against her shoulder while she waited for some form of communication that would absolve her of further duty. Though…she doubted that would be the case. These men and their wants. You know what Sombra wanted? Men to figure out they weren't the only gender on the planet worth catering to. Then again he was also a vampire…they were generally pretty self centered creatures. Talk about an eternity about them and they'll literally love you forever. Blinking slowly, her defined brow ascended in obvious inquiry. What else? count; More than 650 words tag; Dante dress; Click! comment; Hostile. e.e

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[dante]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=000000] 'Surprising control.' Dante's lips remained locked in a small smile while his eyes were fastened on the wolf prowling the streets before him. Yes, it did look that way didn't it? A shocking revelation to anyone expecting a wild vampire to be a bloodthirsty, mindless animal. What they didn't see, or feel, was the ongoing war inside him. It took effort not to pant to draw in more of that delicious, promising scent of life tucked just under that delicate layer of flesh. Effort not to show the woman his fangs to push her ever further on edge. Effort to keep his body from trembling as he held it back from lunging at the wolf. Dante loved being a Vampire. The rush. The thrill. But it was a very precarious existence he led; embracing the hunger inside of himself while subjugating it to his conscious will. God his body felt like it was on fire. "Being dead isn't that bad," he replied when Sombra confirmed Vampires and Werewolves didn't mix. That felt about right. Guess that meant getting to know the woman was out of the question--that was sad personally, sexually, and as a vampire. He raised his right hand before him to examine how his fingers moved just as freely as any living creature. No signs of death besides the lack of a pulse. Lungs still worked; more of a necessity to find prey than breathe. What was it that kept him animated and thinking? Was it some sort of mystic power? Was he damned to Hell, but Satan didn't want him? Asking Sombra would be a bad idea. After he turned his eyes back toward the woman waiting for him to get it all out there so she could move on, Dante let his hand drop again. "So our kind don't mix. Where's the war?" City seemed pretty average if there were two supernatural creatures out there at each others' throats. "I've been in wars for less than racism and hatred." Memories were gone, but Dante knew how to use a library and a computer to look up a few recent events. Figures since he was a Marine he'd have had plenty of action. Was it ironic he'd survived all that only to end up killed and left for dead out in some god-forsaken forest? Whichever vampire created him hadn't even the balls to stick around for the show. Dante's pale eyes closed for a moment. A deep breath drew in Sombra's scent; if it weren't for the maximum capacity of his lungs he'd have drawn in more. There was an itch in his brain he couldn't scratch and it wanted her. Probably the consequence of smelling that man's blood back at the shop. The man's brow furrowed for a second before he forced the tension to subside and his eyes drift open again. "Your scent is fucking intoxicating," Dante sighed before he laughed to break the tension creeping up over his shoulders to gnaw at the base of his skull. "If we stand here staring at one another much longer I'm going to lose it. You want a beer or something?" Way too much sensory information to process loitering out in the open like they were. Tavern might not be much better, what with all the people inside it, but then he could always distract himself with someone else's scent for a moment to take his mind off Sombra's. Hey, so he wanted to get to know a wolf better. Not like his own kind had gone out of their damn way to roll out a red carpet for him. Might as well live it up until he figured out who he could trust. "You look like you'd like to rip my heart out," busy trying to get somewhere probably, "but I'm game if you are." Next problem, what joint around here carried the best stuff? Hopefully Sombra would answer that question. It wouldn't improve his image to pull out a smart phone and start Googling it. She might get a Kodak moment out of that though: 'Vampire googles bar.' On the other hand, Sombra could just stalk off in the opposite direction leaving the uninvited vampire to go fuck himself. There had to be a way to get the woman's interest. Be a hell of a lot easier if she didn't look already distracted by something. Could offer to help, but he was a vampire and she'd already made it perfectly clear how much she loved his kind. Typical Male-Female relations: there was just no pleasing anyone. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Count: 762 Tag: Sombra Note: Looking for Bad Company

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,false][bg=000000] While most people are a fan of smirks, smiles, the lot of pleasant expressions they made Sombra that much more weary. What exactly was he smiling about? There was a possibility it had been something she said, but she'd been neither flirtatious nor sarcastic and therefore probability lay with something he was thinking. And that was off putting. If he thought that she didn't expect him to be some raving cannibal he thought wrong, of course she expected it, even as he chomped at the figurative bit she could feel his restlessness and it only served to make her tense. Vampires were probably the fastest way to make Sombra go GI Jane. That or ex boyfriends. But we won't get into that. She was standing stock still, narrowed pupils focused with predatory attentiveness on the cold man before her. Being dead isn't that bad. She nearly snorted, her mouth forming the words automatically and without necessity for forethought. "I've spent most of my life trying not to be dead. I'd be pissed to find myself in a similar state." It was growled suspiciously, and to shock and awe the audience she continued still in that mild, vaguely hostile murmur. "And pardon me for generalizing, but keeping company with those that are already dead seems to affect a similar adjective. " Yes, she was saying staying around vampires got you killed. Hell, staying around her could get you killed. But it probably wouldn't be her that killed you, vampires you can be almost certain would be chewing on your back at some point. As he had his epiphany, playing with his hand as if it were some sort of crystal ball telling him the future, she sighed, inclining her skull as her jaw clenched. "As if anyone could organize a bunch of dogs and dusty immortals. The war is a personal fight to everyone. And not everyone even partakes. I know more than one soul on either side who finds no issue with the opposite race." She didn't sound disgusted so much as removed - detached to their fate. If they wanted to open their arms wide to the reaper, so be it, but she wasn't going to cry when they were gone. "I've been in wars for reasons I can't remember," she stated, disinterested in the reasons even now. War was what it was and so long as you didn't kill an innocent all was right. You fought for your own reasons, not someone else's and no one in their right mind could blame you for it. Opinion was only that - opinion, and not a soul, dead or living, could take it away. As he inhaled and stiffened she nearly scowled. Masochistic much? Sombra had known a vampire or two, namely Griffin, and it seemed the less he breathed the easier it was to handle being around blood. Your scent is fucking intoxicating. Her lips ticked, pursing as she stared at him, both annoyed and somewhat entertained. "You could try it. But this shotgun isn't the only thing you'd know better by the end." The suggestion he next posed induced a smirk. Vampires cannot get drunk, so beer seems a waste of money. She shrugged, "I could make up an excuse not to, but I genuinely have something else I should be doing of some importance. More than that I don't drink." (Especially when in the company of a potential threat, seems to be asking for trouble.) You'd look like you'd like to rip my heart out, but I'm game if you are. Again, the clench of her jaw as her gaze scathed the shotgun lazily. "I wouldn't feel special if I were you. I took my bitter pill this morning. Everyone's heart is in danger." She eyed him, somewhat resentfully and sighed. "There's a place on the way to my car. We can stop for ten minutes and when that time is up I'm leaving you to your own…devices." She nearly said something to the affect of "his own games" or "dirty work" or "blood bath" but if she could escape this evening without having to hold thought incisors away from her with the end of her newly acquired firearm that'd be just peachy. count; 709 tag; Dante dress; Click! comment; Ohkay. They're entertaining.

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[dante]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=000000] Dante shrugged his shoulders when Sombra retorted in an unsurprising, hostile tone regarding death. He didn't smile, he simply accepted the she-wolf wasn't interested in dying. Couldn't tell if he'd been all that keen on it, himself, but whatever happened he was content with his life as it was now. Hell, he loved it. "You could say the same thing about anyone in the Armed Forces, but you'd be wrong as long as you stayed off the battlefield," he replied, doubting just because people hung out with vampires they'd end up dead. Alright, some of them might. Every day you woke up there was always the chance it'd be the last time. Car accidents. Thugs. Heart Disease. Hell, at least with a Vampire you were sustaining someone's life. Dogs? Dusty Immortals? Personal fight? Well that all sounded completely disorganized. How was it that hard to put together an army and have at it? Figured, though. How many more stereotypes were true? Guess it helped spare the country from two supernatural races tearing one anothers' throats out; Dante still cared about the good of the nation even if he wasn't quite as concerned about its people in the same manner. Don't kill them, if it could be avoided--that was for innocent people. Criminals? Kill them in the shadows quietly--or not, just don't leave witnesses. "I was in the Marine Corps, myself," Dante blinked and the edge to his eyes faded. "Who did you fight with?" Now there was a topic they had in common. Something more than "I'm a dog, you're a corpse, I want to kill you." This is exactly what they needed. "That's a good gun, there, and I'd love to get acquainted with it," probably not shot by it, but just because the woman was the authoritative type didn't mean Dante was going to be a pushover. "Ever used the M1014?" Better than a common interest, however, was the smirk Sombra threw him at the idea of getting wasted. Alright, so he'd figured out alcohol didn't really have the punch for him it would for someone still alive, so it could be taken the wrong way, but he was just trying to be friendly. What else was a Vampire to do in an awkward social situation? Ask if she wanted to go prowl the streets together on a little safari? "My own devices?" Dante reached around to his chest and unzipped his long, leather coat before pulling aside the right flap. Secured at the hip was a Taurus 24/7 OSS, with its extended barrel gun black and the grip, or lower half, camouflaged for the forest. "If you're asking me to kill someone, I'll need payment in advance." He let the coat fall forward again as he chuckled to himself. Of course, Sombra could be thinking he'd drink the place dry--and by drink they of course understood that to mean the people. Slowly approaching his new "companion," the vampire kept an eye out for Sombra suddenly changing her mind and wanting to blow a hole in him. "I'll take the lead, and you guide me there." Doubtful the woman wanted him at her back; she'd want to keep him where she could see him, which meant he had to walk by her first. As he began to draw close, or pass by, he turned to look at the woman. "I'd promise not to bite you, but you wouldn't take my word for it." Really, he did so want to taste her blood, but Dante was a good vampire--when he wanted to be--and wasn't going to let a little thing like hunger drive him mad. It'd be a bad first impression. Speaking of first impressions, Dante hoped Sombra might open up a bit while they were at the bar. They could laugh, growl, stare at Humans... as far as meeting the Werewolves was going there wasn't much here to suggest Dante should play nice with them. Probably the older vampires' fault though. Kill many wolves did they? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Count: 721 Tag: Sombra Note: Party time!

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,false][bg=000000] Not being interested in dying isn't so strange really, you'd have to be a vampire to like the idea. They fed off death, capitalized on it. Like vultures or worms. They were very much like some sort of walking parasite. The lot of them. Some couldn't help it. Others wouldn't if they could and that drove the she-wolf positively mad. The idea that death could be such a simple thing to those that ended so many lives. It made the minuet hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Treacherous creatures, she reminded herself while staring at the particularly good looking parasite before her. You could say the same thing about anyone in the Armed forces, but you'd be wrong as long as you stayed off the battle field. The woman's gaze narrowed and she shook her head. "You aren't comparing someone who kills for the sake of thousands to one who kills for the sake of one are you?" Perhaps she had him there. A thousand souls was worth dying for. One? Well that was up to the individual. The lycan watched him as he thought, clearly going over what she had previously said in his mind as if to make some sort of sense of it. She probably should have cautioned him not to bother and see things the way she did, evidently it was impossible. At least that's what experience said. Impossible for others to relate to a creature like herself. Even her own kind. Could not having a family really make her that much different than anyone else? She doubted it. I was in the Marine Corps, myself, he said, softening as the statement withered. Who did you fight with? Well at least that was an easy question to answer; "Whoever I got my hands on." He'd probably call her a hypocrite or something. See there's this gap between fighting and killing though. Some people don't see it but Sombra certainly did. It's how she'd survived so long. That's a good gun, there, and I'd love to get acquainted with it, he said. Sombra snorted. Ever use the M1014? She shook her head. No, she hadn't and wasn't familiar with the model or it's number. Wasn't going to pretend to be either. "Just make a sudden move and you'll be thick as thieves with this one." It was murmured softly though the dangerous look in her eye said that it was simple truth. She wasn't going to wait to see what he was doing if he crossed any lines - she'd shoot first and ask later when he was at a disadvantage cause he was missing an arm or something. My own devices? Showing her his gun wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind, and her brow ticked at his next words. A contract killer? She sincerely doubted that's what he did for a living - someone in the Marine Corps probably had a semblance of morality…then again he was a parasite, she reminded her self….again. "If I needed someone dead I'd handle it myself." It was said haphazardly, a murmur that really wasn't so much hostile as it was matter of fact. She didn't like that about herself. That she did what was necessary. The wolf however was bent on surviving and doing whatever it meant to stay alive and breathing. Watching him approach, her eyes narrowed again but she didn't say a word until he'd wandered past her. I'll take the lead, and you guide me there. That's what he'd said. She simply nodded, resigned to this little affair until it was over. I'd promise not to bite you, but you wouldn't take my word for it. Sombra laughed dryly and shook her head, her features grim. "No, I wouldn't. I haven't a reason in the world to trust you." She watched him lazily walk a few steps before beginning to trail after him, just in distance so that she could straighten the shotgun and pull the trigger before he could get too close for that to be possible. On the journey she allowed her eyes to roam occasionally from the back of Dante's head. Checking the perimeters in a way that can only be described as systematic. Experience said that being aware of your surroundings was important or you'd end up flat on your face, a rib sticking in your lung. "Take a right at this corner," she instructed, her stare having refocused on the vampire but no other conversational words offered. She had to be in California. Nearly sighing as sleep seemed such a far away thought these days, she set her mind on finishing this and then moving forward with her plans to head to the opposite coast for the next day or two. . count; 804 tag; Dante dress; Click! comment; Ohkay. They're entertaining.

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[dante]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=000000] Dante looked over his shoulder back at Sombra as they walked. "As someone that's killed for the sake of thousands, you're as likely to get shot by a soldier in a combat area as you are bitten by a vampire in a feeding area. Sometimes shit happens," the man shrugged his shoulders, "and you don't get the luxury of sparing a man's life." Maybe he was justifying his own existence, now, but he didn't feel like he was besmirching what it meant to be in the Armed Forces. War was hell for a damn good reason; you didn't always get to pick who lived and who died. A thought came to him, then. "Why do soldiers get the right to decide who lives and who dies, in order to survive, but not the vampire?" Were they all suppose to hide in some dark cave and starve until the end of time? Do humanity a 'favor' and leap into a bonfire? Since when did humanity get to decide genocide was the best choice without the smallest consideration toward the vampire species? They deserved every bit a right to live as a Human, even if they were technically dead. After he turned the corner, the man cast another look back at his...warden? Was he a prisoner? "Are you going to hold that gun to my back inside?" No guns, no shooting, no stabbing, no biting, no devouring brains... to say nothing about no shoes, no shirt, no service. "I'm trying to show you I can behave myself." Even if he was a vampire, he didn't like people holding weapons to him; especially when they were behind him. If this was the extent of the Werewolf-Vampire diplomatic relations then it was no wonder there was a 'war' on in some people's minds. Everyone was on edge ready to kill one another. And for what reason? Were there any politicians around throwing fuel on the fire? Now that was something he'd like to ask someone, but Sombra didn't seem like the right person to admit how utterly clueless he was about his own kind even if she already suspected he wasn't that experienced. As they continued on their journey to the joint Sombra had in mind, Dante's pale blue eyes shifted from side to side. He knew the woman was on edge, but given her heightened sense of hatred toward the man that'd verbally forced himself on her that wasn't surprising. Still, best be prepared for an attack--she had a gun on him already after all. His show of trust only went so far; Dante wasn't stupid or naive enough to leap into her arms and expect the best treatment. She'd even admitted to be a capable of killer herself, not needing any help from an armed vampire. Most aggravating of all was knowing whatever place they were going to wouldn't have anything to drink--for him. Sombra wouldn't stand him getting a little snack while she was there. With their conversation so far he could only imagine the lack of interest she'd display while busily trying not to get drunk. Hardly the sort of social 'date' he had wanted. Well, he'd turn it around somehow. Still coming up a bit short on how, but he'd work it. "How much of this area do you control?" Dante chimed in again after a short time had passed. Maybe Sombra would enjoy talking a little more about herself. Wouldn't be bad to know the woman's territory, either, especially if things turned sour. Would be interesting to learn her rules, and whether she actually did control the area or was simply an enforcer. Obviously she held some power, or was just damn gutsy, sauntering into a gun shop and threatening people in a blatantly direct manner. She'd even offered them as something for Dante to chew on. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Count: 642 Tag: Sombra Note: Trying to make that connection.

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,false][bg=000000] As someone that's killed for the sake of thousands, you're as likely to get shot by a soldier in a combat area as you are bitten by a vampire in a feeding area. Sometimes shit happens. And you don't get the luxury of sparing a man's life. Sombra snorted, disinterested in his rambling and rationalizing. "It doesn't matter to me one way or another when the whole world is a feeding area." It was murmured monotonously. She genuinely didn't care about what he was saying right now. Running on empty did that to her. On the up side it made it a little more difficult to piss her off if she was only half listening to what you were saying. Why do soldiers get the right to decide who lives and who dies in order to survive but not the vampire? She rolled her eyes. "I've never been mauled by a soldier, Dante. Vampires on the other hand have had their share of tries." She was speaking from personal experience, not proposing that vampires be exterminated but for God's sake she didn't want to be around them. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so. He risked another look at her and she growled softly in her throat, a dangerous tone that warned him if he moved quickly he'd have a round in his back. Are you going to hold that gun to my back inside? Her pupils narrowed. "No. There are witnesses inside. The odds of you killing me without someone noticing dramatically lessens." I'm trying to show you I can behave myself. She scowled, not truly caring about what he was trying to do. The wolf was crazed with the will to survive and every second spent in this creature's presence said "die". Not just the fact that he was a vampire, but an attractive one. Letting her guard down meant acknowledging he was good looking and then he could turn into a double threat. "Keep trying." It was snapped half heartedly snapped in his general direction. The muscles in his neck were ticking with his motion, obviously investigating his surroundings. Good. He was on edge too. He damn well should be. The she-wolf meant business, as always. She had no semblance of a social life so business was really the only level she functioned on. She despised not being able to read his mind, what he was planning or thinking of with each passing second. The stress levels were high for the alpha wolf. How much of this area do you control? Her pupils narrowed and she replied in a completely mechanical voice, somewhat disinterested but really it seemed more rehearsed. She had explained this more than once clearly. "Greater New York…most of the state. And then some territory on the west coast." Oh yes, she did control the area, she reigned. There were hundreds now beneath her, under her control but really they'd pledged their allegiance to her wisdom, intellect and seniority. Most of them had been abandoned, or had abandoned their packs. Well now they had a large pack to call their own and the bigger the better - the networking was exceptional and there was always help around the corner should it be necessary. They were big enough now to almost take care of themselves. She'd created something akin to a "super pack". The odds of her not seeing one of the members on her walk on the street were slim to none. As the bar came into view she sighed. "Right there, across the street." It was said plainly and without the relief that was clear on her features as the gun lowered and was sheathed in her jacket haphazardly. She wasn't very well going to throw it away. And the bartender was a friend - he'd allow it as long as she kept it well out of sight. That way he could plead ignorance if things went sour. count;650+ tag; Dante dress; Click! comment; Sorry for the shortness - was short on time. ><.

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[dante]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=000000] "The odds of you killing me without someone noticing dramatically lessens." Dante didn't slow his stride, or turn around to look at the woman at the comment. "I was a Marine. Give me some credit," the Vampire replied, smiling though she couldn't see it as she walked behind him. Just because they were in a public place didn't mean there weren't way of killing someone quietly, then slipping out without being noticed. Not exactly his field of 'study' in the Forces, but a man could pick up a few things talking and watching others. Never knew what skills could be useful out on the field. They were nearing their destination, but he was glad to hear Sombra reply regarding the extent of her territory. A low whistle followed the new information. "Greater New York." Impressive, assuming she wasn't lying out of her rose-smelling ass. Seeing how it wouldn't hurt to take her at her word, for the time being, he left the matter at that. "And somewhere on the West. Explains the shakedown at the shop." Obviously Sombra hadn't approved of the way the man was doing business. How connected would a Alpha Wolf like her be if she held such control? Bribe the right people, or simply keep a low profile with enough not-so-subtle threats if anyone talked they'd get eaten alive? In a better mood he was sure Sombra could be subtle. Probably chose not to all the same. Then, at long last, the venue popped up across the street. Dante could hear Sombra hiding the shotgun on her person; the quiet rustle of clothing and the audible shift of packed gun powder no Human could ever perceive. Afraid someone would notice? Dangerous to trust they were close enough for a Vampire to be afraid of getting noticed. Being across the street could make a world of difference when you asked a bystander to identify someone. "Looking forward to it." Enclosed space. People that would probably be friendly to Sombra. Could be a giant trap. At least they had a good, long time before the sun rose in case someone got any stupid ideas. Damn sun. Did he use to like the sun? Nice thing about amnesia, as selective as it'd been, he didn't remember so he didn't care. The vampire stepped out into the street once there weren't cars bustling about. Any stray that wanted to zoom in on the scene would get treated with a lone hand telling them to park it and shut it. A middle finger could be supplied if anyone made a deal of it. What would they do? Punch him? Dante's fangs itched at the thought as he smiled to himself. "Before we go inside," Dante glanced over his shoulder at the woman, "I just want to ask, besides dying--again--is there anything I can do so you can have a good time?" He wasn't exactly the smoothest talker, but Dante wasn't a brute either. He didn't want to attack Sombra (though she did smell absolutely delicious), so his offer was genuine. It was nice to meet new people, as long as they were interesting. Some punk Werewolf wouldn't have been worth the effort. Sombra was certainly no punk. Hell, she said she controlled Greater New York. If anything that put her up there with someone not to fuck with--which to Dante meant pretty much nothing, but it sounded right. Doubting she'd have anything to say that wasn't a sharp remark about wishing he'd fuck himself or let her drive a stake through his heart, he reached out to open the door so she could go first. If nothing else he was trying to be a proper gentleman--why was another question, but it felt appropriate. So far the evening hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped. First real, important person he'd met on their side of the world and she was barely giving him the time of night. This racism / war really sucked. How was he suppose to enjoy himself being obsessed by a bunch of paper pushing ancient vampires. They were ancient, right? Like he knew. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Count: 728 Tag: Sombra! Note:

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,false][bg=000000] I was a Marine. Give me some credit. The woman nearly snorted but continued to follow after him at a lazy pace, the shotgun slung over her shoulder as if to give him even less credit. "You're not helping yourself, Dante." It was said in a short, disinterested tone that said she hadn't been swayed either way by his idiotic statement. Really if he wanted her to trust him why would he remind her that he was in armed forces? And even if he had professional training and was a vampire she probably could match his experience. He was a fledgling after all. She could tell by the slightly unstable look in his eyes. She wasn't paying attention to the way he stammered on about her territory - wasn't interested in having her ego stroked for the sake of good impressions. They were making progress geologically. Sombra wasn't one to make grand assumptions or to fret over the idea that someone was going to kill her, at least fret more than what she could handle. She would do her level best to prevent death but if death came then that would simply be it - she would be dead. She had a beta who would take on her role and in that same way no one would miss her. A grim outlook on life to be sure but when most of your conversations were held between you and yourself no one was standing on ceremony or etiquette. No one was worried about ruining anyone else's mood because the mood was monotonous. All the same and in that instance so much more dull. Looking forward to it. If the alpha had heard his theory on what she had planned she may have laughed. No one knew her well enough to understand that Sombra never had a plan, not for anything and the idea that she had organized a coup especially for a vampire she only just met? More preposterous that the other theories on what she was generally up to or capable of. They crossed the street and the she-wolf got the distinct feel of rebellion pulsing through the vampire. Oh yes, like dogs wolves could very easily tell the mood of a crowd or even just one person and this "person" was feeling a bit defiant. Before we go inside, I just want to ask, besides dying -- again -- is there anything I can do so you can have a good time? Her eyes narrowed at him, considering the words for a moment despite her distrust. "Don't make any sudden movements. And try not to look at me like I'm on the menu." It lacked the snarl that most of her words generally was coated in. As he opened the door she tried not to outwardly bristle - a feminist to the very end, this one. Not looking at him, she entered though, taking in the sights and smells of the place quickly and easily and nodding at the barkeep as she headed for a booth that was somewhat secluded. This was merciful of her. While it put her in danger, the fact that they were off on their own, it also made it easier on the youthful vampire and his obviously sharp hunger pains. "Why don't you find some fellow blood suckers to hang out with? It was muttered under her breath as she ordered a water and sat back, eyeing him as she had been most of the evening - with guarded disinterest as if forced or as if it was just mechanical, all involuntary but absolutely in her best interests to be so.. count; 600+ tag; Dante dress; Click! comment; o.o

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