Author Topic: Where the Cool kids go  (Read 6279 times)

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Abderus

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Where the Cool kids go
« on: November 02, 2008, 05:00:16 AM »
The black mustang was parked in some sketchy lot a few blocks down. It was still all fucked up. He’d driven it home from Fantastika that night but never found the right ledge to launch her off. So he swapped license plates with a black Honda civic parked outside a grocery store and then drove the beat-up baby home. It had been there a few weeks now, parked near the tool shed at the back of the beach house, and Amery was pretty Gran’Lynn hadn’t even noticed it. Or ever would. He’d switched out the plates again a few days before with some shitty Toyota parked on the side of the street and, feeling confident enough, he decided he needed

sixty-six Pandenning Court

a night out on the town. Get some real blood, not just beach combers and sunbathers. And it was getting a little late in the year for sunbathers as it was. He was going to miss all that skin.

--

She had brown hair and brown eyes. She was kind of pretty, but not stunning. But she was also ballsy and cocky and fearless and so of course Amery wanted to fuck her. Mostly he wanted to fuck her because she showed so much interest in him, and so little interest in fucking. Amery couldn’t figure it out. It was like she wanted something else, like she knew something he didn’t, and although that pissed him off it also made him undeniably intrigued. As it was he hadn’t fucked in a while, and if he could get a drink off her in the process it would be all the better. Make for a decent evening

and a damn good night.

He didn’t remember where he’d picked the chick up. He’d just drank, and was blood drunk, and the next thing he knew she was there giving him a look like she knew what he was about, and telling him that she wanted him to ‘escort’ her to a club. She didn’t flinch at anything. It sounded a bit off. It sounded like a trap to be straight and honest—dangerous shit. And so of course he said yes.

As they meandered towards the nightclub from a particularly shady alley leading back to where the mustang slept, Amery taking wide steps as he walked behind the brunette with fingers laced in hers and nose pressed into her hair, he felt an abrupt change in the atmosphere. The tiny hairs on his body stood on end. Something was out of place. He was sensing something off, something he couldn’t identify because he still didn’t understand all the comings and goings of his immortal body.

Immortal. Immortals. There are immortals fucking everywhere.

It was a trap. It had to be. He stopped, pulling the girl’s arms back so that she was yanked against him. Nuzzling her hair out of the way, he played his lips across her ear: “You should tell what the fuck is going on now.” He tugged at one of her earrings with his teeth. The response he got quite surprised him.
Tilting her head sideways, so that Amery could see into her eyes, the girl grinned and pushed some very dangerous syllables out from behind her plump lips and over her pink tongue.
“Or what, you\'ll bite me?”

For a moment, Amery didn’t do or say anything. Then because he couldn’t help himself he kissed the just-reachable lips in front of him, whispering between kisses
“those are already famous last words, baby--don’t risk making them yours too,”
 and nicked the bottom lip as he pulled away. She didn’t flinch, nor did she seem afraid. What a fucking puzzle. This was getting weird. He let her fingers slip from his as she pulled softly away towards the door of what he could only presume to be the club. When she was near two very odd bouncers –they didn’t, well, smell right—she turned back to him and licked the tiny bead of blood from her lower lip.

“I believe the question is, are you going to risk making them mine?” she asked, an eyebrow flicking towards the moon. Then she disappeared inside, with a few people in line grumbling about favoritism. The bouncers didn’t seem to pay much attention to the petulant mortals, but they were both eying him intently. He had the feeling that he was being judged, but not on the basis of his appearance. Which, of course, was always flawless: even if he was in just a pair of old black trousers and a white wife-beater.

They’re not human.

He didn’t know what they were, but that much he could tell. Inside this converted warehouse, too, he could feel the presence of an unbelievable amount of immortals. He stood where the girl had left him, under the penetrating gaze of the door guards and considered his situation.

A hard-on and I’m not even to the door. Fuck I’ll take the risk.

Having methodically deliberated on his options, he then proceeded past the queue and to the door, returning the unwavering gaze of first one bouncer and then the other. At first they seemed about to stop him, or question him, he could feel them begin to move as he came close, but there was a commotion in the queue line and they seemed to relent and let him slip inside, likely deeming other matters to be more important than a lone, newly turned vampire.

Amery knew that they knew. He could feel them knowing what he was. What he couldn’t figure out was how the chick knew, or why so many vampires were congregated at the end of this hall, on the floors above him. What the fuck was going on? He realized he was grinning, and didn’t know why, and found that funny, so he chuckled. In the long entrance hall he glanced at one of the notices on the wall: Rules of Risk. He didn’t read the rest, but bit his lip and chuckled once with a shake of his head, and then proceeded down the long hall towards where he could feel the force of mortal and immortal alike with such intensity that his body went giddy-tense with adrenaline.

Clever bitch.

He stepped through the doorway and into a world like something he’d only imagined in B horror flicks and bad vampire novels.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #1 on: November 02, 2008, 07:12:18 AM »
HE WAS TREATED DIFFERENTLY nowadays, back to the way it used to be upon his turning, though sidled glances and expressions of open worship had been cast upon his sire at the time, not him.  He\'d had a glimpse of it some years ago when he\'d taken over this ridiculous city and talked everyone into coming out, only to find himself hunted by an organisation of slayers and forced into hiding in another part of the states.  The Oligarchy had been busy cleaning up what they deemed his \'mess\' and though the party had been fun while it was on, he had to admit he preferred things how they were now.  It wasn\'t so much fun revealing a dangerous identity to someone who already knew about your dangerous identity and confusing you with all the other fuckers that were running around pretending to be better than him.

This nightclub was one he returned to when he wanted it easy.  He was having a difficult time with his latest hostage locked up in his penthouse - the one he wanted to discover, twist and break, to see what kind of mortal the kid really was.  Sexy but not-so-charmingly aloof, Lazarus needed some space from the mortal taking up a great wad of his time and to fill it either with groupies or newbies, because he\'d always had a soft spot for fledglings.

Some kind of sycophant vampire sidled up to him at the bar and asked if he could purchase Lazarus - recognised as the Luminary, top man in the Oligarchy - a drink.  He was swatted away with a feral decline, worded in the manner of: "They\'re free to me, you dumb fuck."  Only the mortals were keen to approach him after that, but he hadn\'t found one that jumped out to him as particularly appealing.  Swivelling around on the stool and placing elbows on the bartop, he was in the middle of surveying whatever was tasty in the club when he saw something much more interesting at the doorway.  A newbie, lovely body, looking much like those \'young punk\' variants that could be seen around the place.  He was out of his element, perfect for the swooping.

Swoop he did, for Lazarus was upon him in mere moments.

"When you stand there slackjawed, love, you look like you wouldn\'t understand half the answers I would give to all your questions."  There was a half-smile on his face, a subtly cool smile that should the more perceptive study, would find to be rather calculating.  Long, flowing, blonde, just-crawled-out-of-bed hair, gray eyes that could be any colour under the nightclub lights, dressed in a black shirt over bluejeans and boots on his feet - but not cowboy boots or the kind with wooden heels - no, more like the steel-capped kick-ass engineer boots that meant business.  Of course what he looked like and what he was wearing would be overpowered by the proximity of sheer age, for Lazarus exuded the presence of one that had aged for many centuries.  Twenty centuries, to be precise.
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Abderus

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #2 on: November 02, 2008, 10:56:28 PM »
Holy shit.

Amery’s eyes darted around at full speed, while he tried to keep his appearance as nonchalant as possible. This was crazy shit. He was running his tongue discretely over the tip of one of his fangs, subconsciously, when suddenly he was joined by one of the most peculiar vampire specimens he’d ever come into contact with. And not peculiar in a sort of “what the fuck has this guy got going on” way, but more like a “well, fuck me” way.

Although Amery wasn’t in full control (or in full knowledge) of many of his supernatural abilities, certain things went without saying. The smell of blood, for instance. And age. And this fucker was really fucking old. Older than anyone Amery had come in contact with before. But with youth comes blissful ignorance, in many regards. And a blatant disregard for things that, perhaps, should be more carefully regarded.  For more reasons than one.

Amery didn’t say anything at first, but he made a bit of a show of staring at the blonde, looking him all the way down, and then up again. Where the other was masking his scrutiny, Amery was exaggerating it.

With a strangely serious chuckle consisting entirely of a released breath of air, he diverted his eyes, letting them meander around the crazy blood club he’d wandered into

chick

and wondering how he’s gotten himself into all this

That fucking chick.

With a cock and balls smile, Amery looked back to the Blonde vampire, shoving his hands into his front pockets, his shoulders rolling slightly forward and his head tipping a bit back in reaction. He had a vague enough warning sense not to step on such old toes, but still, he wasn’t about to give a coy little smile and introduce himself. Shit didn\'t work like that. And also, problem was, wherever Amery went somebody wanted a piece of him. And that suited him fine: he’d never been one to back down from a challenge as it was. It just got more difficult when everyone who wanted to fight you was

A fucking old ass vampire who’s like shit-billion times stronger and faster than you are

Immortal. Among other things. Amery’s brown eyes stared back into the probing grey ones, and he cocked his head to the side with a flick upwards of the eyebrows:

“…who’s asking questions?” he grinned darkly, taking a step forward, then swiveling enough to be standing perpendicular to the blonde, with his eyes still facing the other vampire “love.”

--

With her body disappearing in and out of existence in time with Risk’s flashing lights, she was back in her element. How long it had been her element wasn’t clear, but she gave off the impression that even the most novel and obscure of practices was immediately absorbed into her identity.  She was not just a product of her environment: she was her environment, and the embodiment of all attempted activities.

She was not particularly beautiful. Not genetically, at least. Ancient accounts claim Cleopatra was no more beautiful than a common whore. So what did beauty really mean, when judged against power? To say that the brunette weaving her way through Risk’s lower floor was anything like Cleopatra was speculative, at best. Yet she had had her Caesars. If the twenty first century surrendered such equivalents among the blood thirsty gods that surrounded her now. For Caesar was a man, made god through death. How different were things now, truly? Could not the ancient humming be heard here, of all places, below the speaking tones, like the rumble of distant ages griding up against the present.

She didn’t seem to have a purpose to her movements, and yet she never looked aloof. She was at the bar, then exchanging a word, the walking elsewhere just to loop around again. She was both there and not there at any given moment: she could be adored or disregarded, for she was not enough of any one thing to garner unavoidable attention. She was and wasn’t, like a firefly, flicking in and out of visibility and mind.

And then she was gone, lost in the crowd of motion that made up Risk\'s dance floor. For it was not mortals and immortals dancing, but rather motion personified by the flashing lights and blasting music and disregardable passing of time.

Offline Existentially Odd

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #3 on: November 03, 2008, 12:49:11 AM »
Tom had resigned himself to people watching.  His evening had begun with such promise - a date with a really hot stripper he\'d met in a club he\'d been to a few nights before - but had not continued in the anticipated pattern at all.  He\'d gone to a shitload of effort, too, thinking the blonde bitch would be a class act score.  Boy, he couldn\'t have been more wrong.

For a start, she\'d been smart.  Not just smart, but brainy, and had been very interested in engaging in meaningful conversation about history, anthropology and societal trends over dinner.  The excuse that he was feeling too queasy to eat anything at the fancy restaurant he\'d booked had just about come true by the time the main course was done.

Halfway through dessert she\'d revealed she was a driven single mother who was just doing the stripping because it made good money and paid the bills for her and her kid - would give him a future, too.  Tom had managed a watery smile that she\'d decided was his illness hitting another gear - his pallour added a lot of weight to this argument - and she\'d insisted the date conclude for the sake of his health.

Damn straight.  Without further ado, he\'d put her in a cab back to her place and begun walking the city streets, attempting to force the tawdry images he\'d concocted for his How I\'ll Spend My Night Fucking A Stripper mind movie out of his head.  All dressed up - in a pair of black dress shoes, tailored black trousers, a burnt orange button-down shirt (top three buttons now undone) that offset his hair and a caramel-coloured overcoat that brushed the backs of his calves and was good for sticking his hands into the pockets of - with nowhere to go, Tom instinctively headed for the one place he knew would make him feel better.  Risk.

Problem was, he was restless and cantankerous by the time he\'d arrived, his mood cloudy because nothing had gone to plan with his evening and he\'d been in the city too long.  There\'d been no calls from his crew and even though it hadn\'t been an exorbitant amount of time, he was suffering from more than a little paranoia that Reed had turned his buddies against him and he was going to be excluded from further adventures on the grounds that he was the cause of some awfully awkward silences last time they\'d met... plus, no-one could figure out why he was so fucking averse to daylight.

He\'d found himself a booth because he\'d arrived so early on (given that any time before midnight was \'early on\' around here), taken off his coat and sprawled forlornly in the space alone.  He had a direct view to the dance floor but would have had to sit up, turn and crane his neck to see back to the bar and the front door.  Mortals walked by him and looked him over, a few of them making him offers he found he wanted to refuse.

He accepted the fourth one.  It hadn\'t been an offer so much as a well-executed stumble that suddenly scored him a giggling young lad in his lap.  The smell coming from his pores was highly toxic and chemically-tainted but he did his best to extricate himself from the long, sprawled redhead\'s groin area anyway.  Tom didn\'t allow him much leeway - on impulse, he helped the kid up far enough to get his mouth on his neck, take a nice long drink and then release him to his giddy stumbles.

Then, the vampire was too drug-fucked to move, but the lights were awfully pretty and the people were decadently tasty fruits just waiting to be plucked.  Initially, he couldn\'t do a lot of moving and he simply sat there, laughing to himself, slumping lower and lower in his seat until he actually slid off and had to get his ass back on it.  The whole process was hilarious to him and took a good twenty minutes.

Joy of joys when he was finally sitting upright (above the table) again, though, a sweet smelling brunette flounced past his table - he\'d smelled her earlier, when she\'d passed, but he hadn\'t recovered enough to move properly then - and he was able to snake a hand out and catch her wrist in order to get her attention.  He peered guilelessly up at her as his hold tightened around her wrist (when she instinctively pulled away) so he could draw her back towards his table.  His smile was broad, dimpled and disarming and she, to his drug-muddled eyes, was enchanting.

"Hey there, want to join me?" he asked huskily, none of his words slurring because he was concentrating quite hard on enunciating them clearly.  It would be hard for her to tell whether he was just someone who spoke like that or whether he was under the influence of something.  This was a good thing, as his immune system (or whatever the fuck it was in charge of that shit) was doing its best to process the lovely, floaty feeling of the high out of his undead body as fast as it could and he would soon have no need of speaking carefully.  Best she not know any better.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #4 on: November 03, 2008, 06:32:03 AM »
As he got looked over in a manner that he usually did to others, his eyebrows quirked even as he struck a stance that would make him even more appealing than usual - a difficult thing to someone who looked as damn sexy as him, but he was doing his best in any case, for first impressions were important.  This entrance was less grand than the rest of them, but at least he had his height over this one, and he liked that the freshling moved to face him directly.  If there was one thing Lazarus really enjoyed, it was attention.

"You are, but you\'ve started with a less than interesting one," Lazarus replied with a crooked smile, one of his eyebrows still raised higher than the other as he regarded the creature before him, his hands moving to rest on his hips - palms flat - as he bowed forward ever so slightly in order to hold a dominating position over the younger vampire before him.  The blonde ancient had been using intimidation tactics for so long he didn\'t know how else to be, knowing that some saw it as a challenge and often times finding himself attacked when all he wanted was a fuck, but that was the joy of his existence.  Nowadays though, he wasn\'t attacked, not when the supernatural council threatened death.  "Are you sure you want to waste my time and yours when you look so green you could pass for extra terrestrial?  How about you consider yourself the luckiest little vampire in all this club because I\'m paying you mind.  Would you care for a stab at door number two or perhaps the runner-up prize of a drink?"  He was grinning now, for if there was another thing Lazarus really enjoyed, it was the sound of his own voice.
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Abderus

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #5 on: November 03, 2008, 07:13:04 AM »
Hmm.

Well, at least he wasn’t stupid.


“Quick ear--quick tongue, but tell me this then, after all of that: why would a time-wasting, runner-up, luckiest little green vampy like me want to humor you with a drink?” There was a half-grin at the corners of his lips, and Amery’s eyes didn’t waver from the blonde’s. Searching, calculating, laughing in their own little language… It was a look of amusement, and mockery, and false-testiness, and none of which were probably the best expressions to be displaying at the moment. Given the situation, and all.

Amery opened his mouth again after a moment’s pause, so that it was just visible that he was tracing the tip of his tongue again over one of his fangs—the motion he’d been in the process of completing before the blonde approached. Best to be consistent.

“Unless, of course, the drink’s really on you…”

He scrunched his hands inside his pockets once and rolled his shoulders, taking a step more towards the club and away from the threshold and the blonde. But his gaze was steady, and all in all, he didn’t look like he was about to bolt off anywhere. But who knew.

--

Progress stalled, she turned with a look of passive confusion at the source of her delay. First to the hand on her wrist, then following it down the arm and over the chest, up the neck and to the face of a redheaded vampire that she had never seen before. But nothing new was new for long to her. There was simply no room for novelty. She took in his smell, her mortal nose no match for immortal senses, but satisfactory enough to suit her needs and purposes. She eyed him over, no harshly or criticizing, just looking.

When her tug gave no results, she smiled softly, twisting her wrist against the vampire’s thumb so as to free it. She did not seem particularly worried, and if anything her actions suggested that she’d performed that same slow twist many a time previously. There was no arrogance, no show of strength or ‘look what I can do because I know your thumb can’t bend backwards either.’ None of that. Just a docile smile, a calm yet curious gaze and

“I shouldn’t think anyone likes to play with you, if you don’t play kindly. Is that why you\'r here then, alone? Kindly or not, solitude is not good when drinking. Leads to bad decisions.”

And yet she made no attempt nor gave any intention that she planned to join him once her hand was inexorably freed from his grasp. Though her passive smile suddenly jumped to a cocky grin, and then fell right back again into tranquility, showing no sign that it had ever been otherwise.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #6 on: November 03, 2008, 07:43:33 AM »
My, the kid was most certainly as green as beans if he didn\'t know who Lazarus was.  Even if some didn\'t know him from the role he played leading the Oligarchy, most certainly knew him because of the supernatural coming-out party, as he had been the spokesman and right hand man to Halwyn, who he\'d planned the little foray with.  Also, when you got right down to the matter, if it hadn\'t been for Lazarus\' divulging in the riot and subsequent city-wide freak show, then it was possible that Amery wouldn\'t have been sired; not that either of them knew this.  When Amery moved, Lazarus moved with him liquidly, as though they\'d both intended to step forward together.

"Because, love, you want what I\'ve got, whether you know it yet or not."

Such words were spoken with the confidence of utter belief.  Everybody wanted what Lazarus had, he wouldn\'t be Lazarus if they didn\'t.

"Don\'t let this opportunity pass you by," he said, glancing down at the floor between them to include himself with his gaze before staring intently into Amery\'s dark eyes.  "I\'m not just any ancient blonde vampire fucker trying to get into your pants, I\'m The ancient blonde vampire fucker trying to get into your pants."  A hand lifted to point a long and elegant finger into Amery\'s chest, pressing lightly even while he maintained eye contact.  "I am Lazarus, the Risen, the one and fucking only who knows everything about everything and everyone because I didn\'t just hear about it and I didn\'t just see it, I was likely in the middle of it fucking things up."  A grin.  "Now I can talk about myself all night," and that was no idle threat, "but let\'s get you educated, so you can truly appreciate the attention I\'m paying you.  Look around and realise how fucking important I am."

He didn\'t have to look himself and check that many eyes were upon the Luminary as he attempted to sway the freshling.  Really, what was it with him and other vampire\'s leftovers?  He really had to find that out.
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Offline Existentially Odd

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #7 on: November 03, 2008, 11:17:30 AM »
The vampire\'s gaze followed the girl\'s arm to her wrist as well, and he released her when she moved with purpose - duly noting whether there was a protection tattoo there or not - not wanting to make a scene (like he could be that energetic yet, anyway).  He was pleased that she didn\'t walk away, however, and stopped to chat with him.  It was a good sign.
 
"I play all sorts of nice, darlin\'," he told her warmly, then cocked his head, regarding her through thoughtfully narrowed eyes.  "\'n what made you such an expert on drinkin\'?" he queried, thinking she was awfully sure of herself to be advising a vampire on his drinking habits.  Or maybe she was just a cheap suck whore who knew of what she spoke because she\'d been there, done that and had the cum stains to prove it.
 
He giggled a little at his own denigrating thoughts, which didn\'t fit with the situation at all, but he didn\'t mind so much.

Abderus

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #8 on: November 03, 2008, 09:33:16 PM »
Amery’s attention was split. Not to say that the blonde vampire wasn’t enough to hold his interest, for that was not the case. Instead, he had two other things vying for space in his considering mind. First was the brunette who’d led him here, but his interest in her was only passing now that she was out of his sight. For the moment. The more pressing, attention-grabbing, stimulant was the club itself. Even the small step that he’d taken from the threshold had increased his sense of involvement by three-fold. There was so much shit going on around… everywhere.

You don’t know shit about what I want

But he didn’t have the chance to verbalize it, as the Blonde continued talking. At each thing he said, Amery had something to object, but each time he tried to verbalize it there was something else added and he had to amend his response inside his head. It was rather frustrating. And curious. And sprouted a mixture of confidence and uncertainly within Amery, that worked together about as well as oil and water. His grin had faded, but he wasn’t frowning. There was a slight curl to the corners of his mouth, and it was something more in-between-like than any definite expression of emotion.

At the conclusion of the blonde\'s speech, Amery decided that it wasn’t really ‘worth his time’ to goggle at any faces looking back at them. Or, rather, if they were there then they were there, and if not than it saved him looking like a gawk-eyed-goon peering fearfully over his shoulder. So he kept right on looking at the grey eyes of the blonde vampire, even as he took a step towards the immortal, pushing his weight forward, and feeling the immortal’s finger press harder into his chest.

“You gunna educate me,” Amery’s voice low, and eerily singsongy “you gunna make me appreciate, tell me what I want, what I wanna hear, make me your baby…baby? Your prag? You’re blood bitch and a half—string me up and hang me out, wring me out, knock me up and beat me down…?” Amery gave half a head shake, gaze unwavering, and then was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, the edge was out of his words, and there was a cocky grin on his face “Well, as romantic as that is, I can’t say it really does it for me: you know, total domination, your dick in my ass...not really a few of my favorite things.”

There was a catch in his voice, and he broke eye contact as some thought flew through his mind and distracted him for a moment.

“but enough about me,” with a sly smile “because the real nail in the coffin” Amery leaned in closer still “when you come right down to it,” he reached up and curled the extended finger back into the blonde’s hand, “is that fangs are fangs and dicks are dicks, Lazarus the Risen. And as far as I’m concerned, you’re no different than any one of the other fucking, blood-sucking, self proclaimed godly little shits.”

All’s fair in Love and War. And when the prospect of Love given the circumstances seems more dangerous than combat, then by hell declare war!

“So tell me what I want, one more time—because I’m thinkin it isn’t you. Love.”

--

The girl drew back her unmarked wrist, but didn’t do much else with it now that she had it. Her brown eyes were focused on the redhead vampire with a look of forced remembrance.

“No, now I am very certain I’ve never seen you before in all my life. Which isn’t very strange, I suppose, given the cirumstances.” She ignored pretty much everything that had been said to her, instead beginning off on some other verbal tangent that must have appeared more appealing. “I should think you’re pretty old. Not too old, though. All the old ones I know prefer boys. Do you prefer boys?”

She forced space for herself next to the vampire, making herself comfortable before she continued talking. Although her voice was soft and consistent, possibly even monotonous, she seemed to show no qualms in manhandling the redhead enough to get herself satisfactorily seated.

“I’ve always preferred boys. Men only think about themselves and women only think about other people and when they’re vampires” she sighed “it’s only about 20 times worse.”

Then she seemed to get distracted. With an unfittingly stoic expression, she watched a group of laughing mortals on the dance floor get teased and sexually taunted by an immortal.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #9 on: November 03, 2008, 10:55:41 PM »
"No," Lazarus\' voice dropped to what would\'ve been an inaudible level had Amery\'s senses not been heightened supernaturally.  "What you want always comes too late, while you\'re too busy looking for something better.  The ones like you play rough, live tough, spit on everything and die young, proclaiming that anything else is insincere."  Lazarus moved his hand to press his palm against Amery\'s chest, but gently.  He\'d been rejected by a vampire, and though he was pushy and dominating with mortals to the point of forcing the issue or taking lives, he wasn\'t about to start throwing his weight around with kindred blood.  It had always been the case with Lazarus.  "You\'ll want what I have the hard way, and when that time rolls around, that\'s how I\'ll give it to you."  A slow smile crept upon his face, the innuendo of their potential future meeting complete.  He removed his hand and pocketed it before turning his face in the direction of the dance floor.  He didn\'t bother walking away just yet, but the message was clear.  Amery had been dismissed.
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Offline Existentially Odd

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #10 on: November 03, 2008, 11:03:17 PM »
Tom frowned as he was distracted from answering her by having to move.  It wasn\'t his usual frown of immediate annoyance but rather one of confusion as his addled mind jammed from trying to do too many things at once... talk... think... move... yep, too hard.

Eventually, he got his ass slid along the booth seat so that she could perch on the end and he was sitting more upright again, but he didn\'t allow any space between them, for his hand wished to wander down to her thigh and it was easiest if his own was pressed up against hers.

"I like girls," he declared, ignoring the shadow that wanted to pass over his mind and somehow correct him.  Reed didn\'t count.  His thumb brushed across the top of her leg, the tips of his fingers seeking farther down towards her inner thigh and him trying to act naturally.  He could only hope.

His gaze followed hers and spied the fun happening on the dance floor, the scene causing a bolt of interet to shoot through him that left him tingling.  He was coming to himself more and more every minute.  "You want to have some fun?" he murmured, his face nuzzling towards her neck and his hand growing... bolder.

Abderus

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #11 on: November 04, 2008, 03:13:15 AM »
Amery was genuinely confused, but in such a way that he found the whole situation interestingly odd. He’d been expecting a veeerrrryyyy different scenario to play out. Since when does veiled-rejection+unveiled-insult=peace? Amery sure as hell didn’t know, because it sure as hell had never happened to him. Which was probably because

what I want always comes too late, while I’m too busy looking for something better. The ones like me play rough, live tough, spit on everything and die young…

A pretty good summation, actually. Not something Amery had never considered before, but certainly something no one had ever told him directly. His gaze, for a moment, may even have reflected this consideration. He instinctively half-flexed the muscles under Lazarus’s hand when the blonde touched him. It wasn’t supposed to be inviting, or mocking, or even a little bit of both. Instead it was just a mortal-style reaction to immortal contact. He was young, still, after all.

Then, with the blonde’s face in profile as the vampire looked away, Amery leaned in and placed one hand on Lazarus’s shoulder so that he could bring his mouth closer to the immortal’s ear. Not that such an action was necessary, but rather because it was very...unnecessary.

“Seeing as how you know me so well,” he whispered “would you really expect me to choose anything other than the hard way?”

He was close enough now that he could have kissed at the soft bit of skin right below Lazarus\'s ear. He did consider it. But didn’t.

“till then.” He took a step away, looping around behind the ancient, and moving unhurriedly towards the bar, his dark eyes scanning and darting at all the movement and action around him. But also carefully keeping eye of the blonde in his periphery.

We’re all of us insincere

--

“I’m not really a girl though” she corrected, “not to say I’m a boy, or man, or ever was… I’m more a woman really. Old enough,” she tore her gaze away from the happenings on the dance floor “Do you think twenty is a girl or a woman?”

She dropped her hand down to where the vampire’s fingers explored her leg. It seemed she was about to brush him away, but instead she just casually rested her hand atop his, neither denying or affirming it in any of its scandalous activity.

“Twenty is a very sour age.” She concluded, looking him in the eye and giving a soft laugh, before returning her gaze again to the dance floor. It was difficult to tell if she was even acknowledging all of what the red-head was saying, or just picking and choosing those parts that went along with her own train of thought.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #12 on: November 04, 2008, 07:28:52 AM »
When the unnamed freshling made a motion to talk to him, Lazarus allowed an accomodating but subtle reaction enough to give access to the shorter male.  The corners of his mouth curled with a not-too-wide smile at the other\'s comment - a good comment, and a good parting.  He found himself wanting what the other had a little more now, but would bide his time.  It was a smaller city that most people thought, and if Lazarus ever wanted to track him down, such a thing would be easy.  He was arrogantly confident.

With a tip of his head to acknowledge the parting, watching intently as the youngling headed for the bar before he got a different idea in his head.  What with this new interaction at Risk, with the idea of this freshling being a potential sidetrack for him, he left the nightclub with the idea of returning home to his unsuspecting hostage - to play a few more mindgames.
INFUSCO : Ben : Hugh : Lan Bao : Mick : Todd : Vincent : Win :
HALFLIGHT : Graille Min Sayer :

Offline Existentially Odd

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #13 on: November 04, 2008, 08:14:21 AM »
"Mmm no," Tom murmured in a contradictory manner, doing his best to get his lips to her neck but feeling very much like he was twisting himself into a pretzel to do so - sometimes, he was just too fucking tall.  "Twenty\'s a sweet age," he told her distractedly, his mind getting a little more focussed now (though not on anything constructive).

"Lemme taste how sweet you are," he whispered, finding the shell of her ear with his questing lips and capturing it gently.  Visions of her getting up onto her knees and straddling his lap right here in the booth so he could drink from her neck more comfortably - and hopefully get her so turned on he could fuck her while he was at it - had his mouth watering and his hand squeezing with a bit more rhythm upon her thigh.

Of course, there were very comfortable back rooms they could go to, too, but he loved the idea of doing it out here where the pounding on the dance floor was strongest and would match their anticipated movements beautifully.

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Re: Where the Cool Kids go
« Reply #14 on: November 04, 2008, 08:54:38 PM »
Amery’s approach to the bar was heralded with a few snickers (he could only imagine why) but was otherwise uneventful. The bar itself was of little more interest: vampires hovering around with barely shielded impatience as the mortal of their choice threw back another specialty shot of unknown constitution. A few eyed him, mortal and immortal, and though none of the gazes were particularly malevolent, they didn’t seem very “Hi, welcome to the dark underworld cult of the vampires” either.

So he swung on past the bar, going with the flow of the concentric ring construction of the whole building. It was a minute before he even realized he was searching for something

That fucking weird ass chick

And not just exploring and examining what, to Amery’s mind, must have been the best (or worst) kept secret in the entire city. I mean, if they told mortals about it they couldn’t expect it to stay secret for long. And yet he had the feeling that this wasn’t the sight of mass slaughter, either, where each night all the knowing mortals went bye-bye. That certainly wouldn’t fly. And yet, how this place was able to function was beyond Amery.

And he didn’t care, because he’d just spotted what he was looking for. A familiar form straddling an unidentifiable vampire in one of the booths. Her body blocked all of whomever she was enjoying, but even from the back he could tell it was her. Brown hair falling down over a strange, beige-top-thing, in a serious of purposeful knots and accidental kinks. A mess, with attitude.

--

She only seemed half listening to the vampire, or if she was listening fully, she seemed only half willing to show any acknowledgement.

“I’m not particularly sweet—I’ve been told,” she said thoughtfully, and with surprising decisiveness she was on the vampire’s lap, almost exactly as he’d imagined it. The only difference being that she was sitting on him more like one might if joking with a friend, than one straddling a lover in feverish passion, “I drink too much tea, I think. Or root beer.”

She looked down at him with her boring brown eyes, a brushed smile on her plain lips: “Now play kindly. I shouldn’t like to leave you as I found you,” And there was something off about the way she said it. The smile on her lips looked a little more sinister, the look in her eyes a little more serious. For all intents and purposes she was just a normal mortal girl. She had everything to lose, nothing to gain, especially in a place like this. And yet she seemed not the least bit worried, and very familiar with the territory for one who didn’t even have the risk tattoo. Either she didn’t fear death, didn’t fear the vampire in front of her, or was simply far to confident for her own benefit that things always work out well enough in the end.

In essence, there was something wrong in her head.