In the Middle [K&E]

[Peter Parkman]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Peter Parkman> Living out in the middle of nowhere had its perks. But it also had its downfalls. Peter wasn’t particularly a recluse. He didn’t like being a recluse. Necessity dictates that reclusivity become a thing, however—not because there’s really any chance of someone finding him out here, across the border, but because it’s all still too fresh. Too new. The fear is only starting to ebb, to eke from his system. It’s why he found himself at Rock Bay Docks. A part of the city that he had not yet had the chance to explore (he kept mainly to Wickbridge, Redwood, Swansdale and Stag Heath). The boats rocked soothingly in the harbour.

There was a small restaurant there. The sun had just set—Peter had finished grading some papers, finally, and wanted to celebrate with a little bit of fresh air and some food that he did not cook at home. He wasn’t really a very good cook. The place mainly sold seafood, which was fine by Peter. He took a table out the front, by himself. He got a few looks, but not too many. He kept his head down to study the menu, slowly sipping at the wine that he had ordered. White, so as to go with the fish that he would eventually order.

[Attire ]


<Keara> She’d already been to the theatre in an effort to track him down. Sure she could have summoned him but she’d played that trick once already today and was rather hoping the walking would calm her temper. It didn’t though, as the moment she caught up to him at the docks she growled and smacked him round the head. He was barely in range before she was lashing out at him. “Wish you could what do? Summon me or keep the connection going?” she asked carrying on the conversation from earlier as if it had been mere moments since they spoke last. “And not all my staff liars are. Only Sara and lied to me yet she has not. So insult you do those that love I do yet again.”


<Enver Marshall> "Ahhh. Quiet." Enver was tired of arguing with Keara over something that wasn't even worth arguing about. If she only stopped to think for a second and let him fully explain some things, she'd realize that she was blowing things out of the water again. He had started to do some fishing on his boat, but as the silence grew longer and longer, Enver began to not like it so much after all. So, he packed up his things, closed down the shop on the bottom half of his boat and started to head back home, the long way. For some reason he didn't have it in him to tome home, just like he didn't have it in him to keep arguing. It seemed exhausting and tedious tonight, when any other night he would have kept at it with her. Maybe Keara did more damage than he realized when she knocked him to the ground. Enver shrugged it off, not sure and doubting she would really hurt him, until he felt a smack at the back of his head and heard her voice. His eyes narrowed as a hand went up to his head, the thing throbbing once again as it had hours before. "Always a pleasure to see you beautiful." He grumbled, still rubbing away at his head before he turned around to face her. "Why would I want to summon you or keep it going? It was quiet for a change!" He growled out at her before Enver nudged his head to a boat that was a food place. "Going to meet Crash at the bar in there. He said something about needing cuddle time." Enver scoffed, still annoyed that Keara was being ridiculous about Falcon before he headed off to the boat. He wasn't really meeting Crash in there, but it could be easily arranged with a text to the guy.

[Outfit ]


<Peter Parkman> It might have looked like Peter wasn’t paying attention to anything other than his menu; he was hunched over it, his head resting in his palm. He paid attention to every minute detail, however. A loud voice nearby caught his attention. It wasn’t so much that the voice itself was loud, but the tone was loud. He glanced up to see a couple having a domestic nearby; the male started to head toward the restaurant. Peter blinked as he watched, curious as to what would happen next. It was at that moment that the waitress chose to return, however; she didn’t even get through asking her question. Her presence, her voice startled Peter so much—and he was far too tall, and the table far too small for him. He jumped. The bottle of wine that he’d ordered smashed to the ground – white wine and green glass scattered. “Oh…****,” Peter moaned, deep voice the epitome of regret.


<Keara> He was trying to annoy her again and she knew it. She growled and shoved him with the palms of her hands. “Fine if quiet you require. Quiet you can have,” she said as she turned on her heels and went to leave. Keara was dressed in her usual cyber gothic style, only this outfit was a little lighter and brighter than usual being that it was all white. She’d worn it in the catacombs once and gotten it filthy; she wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Since she’d mainly spent the night hacking and arguing however, it was a fitting choice and had remained as white and bright as ever. Not that she knew she’d be hacking and arguing all day, but still, it was as if a part of her knew she wouldn’t be returning to the dank, dark tunnels that night.

Clothing ]



<Enver Marshall> Enver scoffed when she caved too easy and said she was going to leave. Like hell she was. She came here to start something and he finally was determined to end whatever this was. Which would call for some tactics that were a bit extreme. "So you don't care that Crash has a bunch of women in there waiting for me?" He was bluffing, but it worked last time when she was in the raid. All he needed was for Keara to pause, even for a second so he could do what he needed to do. When she did pause, he acted, the male appearing in front of her, not giving a damn who saw what in terms of vampire speed and hoisted her over his left shoulder. "Second thought I'm starving and you wanted more date nights. So, here we are. On a date." Enver chuckled to himself as a hand landed on her butt to keep her there as he made his way to the boat.


<Peter Parkman> The waitress, though probably a little annoyed, continued to assure Peter that everything was fine. It would be okay. She rushed off to get a mop and a broom. Peter himself dropped to his haunches to start trying to collect together all the broken glass. His face had gone a betroot red, though most other diners went back to their business. Peter, however, found his gaze drifting back to the couple on the deck. It was freezing out, and yet the woman was wearing hardly anything. All wonderment about the woman's attire ceased to exist, however, as Peter watched the male move. Or not move. Whatever. One second he was in one place, the next he was right in front of the woman, hauling her up over his shoulders. Peter's mouth dropped open. The frown deepened over his brow. And then he hissed - he'd still been collecting glass without paying attention. A shard of it cut deep into his palm. Blood burst to the surface. This, he thought, was why he never went out.


<Keara> She fell for it, how could she not and for a moment she paused. She was about to swing back around and aim for his jaw but he was too quick for her in the blink of an eye he was standing in front of her, hoisting her over his shoulder. Keara didn’t even have time to open her mouth and respond to him before he had his hand on her backside and was heading for the restaurant. She contemplated kicking and screaming like a small human child but that wasn’t going to do any good and so she thumped him on the back with the side of her closed fist. “Enver you put me down. No dates this way begin. Sure I am of that. Why would I want for to a restaurant to go? Eat I do not. Liquid diet remember.” She was protesting but a part of her kind of liked when he got like this and despite her wriggling, she was oddly content where she was.


<Enver Marshall> "You're a pro at dates now?" Enver asked, knowing damn well this wasn't how any dates went, at least not with them. "Perfect gentleman. Walking you right to the front door. It's exactly how dates start." He chuckled, noting a few passerbyers staring at them. Enver explained it with a simple gesture of her drinking too much as a hand went to his mouth and he tipped his head back. Thankfully his wife wouldn't see that. "I'm sure they've got something liquid in there. There's a bar." He reminded her. "Besides, you can help me order something off the menu and maybe get a taste of it later.' he slapped her firmly on the butt again, yanked the door open and finally set her down. "Table for two." Enver told the woman at the door before he pulled out a fifty and handed it to her. "With a good view if we can have it." The woman made the fifty disappear quickly before she went off to see what she could find for the pair, returning a few seconds later to escort them to a table right by the edge of the boat, a few tables away from the guy with bad luck tonight.


<Peter Parkman> The waitress came back. Her annoyance disappeared completely as she witnessed the blood-soaked napkin that Peter had been holding over his wounded hand. She went white, obviously not a fan of blood. Peter had gone white, too - he wasn't a fan of blood for completely different reasons. He didn't really care that it was his own. "Oh sit down, sit down, sir. I'll go get the first aid kit," she said, running off. One of the bus boys was boredly sweeping the glass into a tray, as if this happened all the time. Peter did as he was told - he sat down. At which point the arguing couple passed him by, seated at a table not far from his. He stared at them, so that he wouldn't look at his bleeding hand.


<Keara> She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow as he set her down. “If think you do that this conversation over is. Wrong you are. Drop it I shall not until agree you do for with your newest employee to speak and boundaries set.” The word employee was forced from her lips as that wasn’t the word she wanted to use. He’d pretty much already promised to speak to Falcon anyway, so why she was asking him this again was anyone’s guess. She wasn’t in the mood to sit in a restaurant and watch him eat food she couldn’t stomach and likely drink something she couldn’t imbibe but as she passed the guy with the bloodied hand, she turned and looked him over before taking her seat. He was watching them but she wasn’t sure why. If Enver noticed he was likely going to get all jealous and possessive, which as she thought about it sounded kind of perfect and so without giving it much more thought she was quickly up and out of her seat again and heading his way. “Hurt you are. Help you with that I can. Wash it you should. Clean the area. What did you do?” She was being overly nice for Enver’s benefit, she didn’t much care what he’d done or why he was bleeding, frail things bled, it was a fact of life. So did vampires. Only vampires healed more quickly. “Here. Let me look,” she said reaching for the guy’s hand.


<Enver Marshall> Enver rubbed at his face with his hand when he heard her talking about the same old thing again. When she mentioned something about boundaries, he felt his eyes narrowing. Didn't he already promise to do that? Typical that she wanted to get the last word in on things. Women. "Yeah, yeah." Enver said as he took a seat, without his wife it seemed. "Keara?" Enver asked as he reeled around in the chair to see her tending to some guy. "Boundaries my ***." He grumbled as he watched her try and doctor the stranger. Falcon sure wasn't a stranger, and Enver had removed himself from the situation, but here Keara was putting herself in a situation with some guy she didn't even know. Enver cleared his throat, his eyes piercing the two of them as he continued to watch. Maybe she was just being nice, after all, she had been nice to that one woman a few nights back. So maybe she finally saw that humans were worth something. Something more than food.


<Peter Parkman> One second Peter was staring, an offsider watching a show, and the next the woman was storming toward him. Literally, to Peter, she looked like some kind of dangerous whirlwind come to sweep him up. He looked over his shoulder, half hoping that her sharp eyes were settled on someone else, rather than him. But next second she was on top of him. "Ohjesus," he muttered. She took his hand and he was leaning away from her, wondering why she all of a sudden wanted to help him. Her voice was polite, however, rather than loud like with her partner. Peter did his best to relax, willingly giving up his hand. He swallowed, and could only manage a short "Uhm...."


<Keara> She pulled back the napkin to inspect the wound before discarding it on the table. The sight of blood didn’t bother her in the slightest and so she lifted the appendage higher and inspected the damage more closely. She assumed he’d removed the bulk of the glass, as there wasn’t much of anything to see, if you discounted that was the small slither that was still wedged in the flesh. Using only her nails, she plucked the offending shard from his skin, reached over to a nearby table to steal another napkin and placed the clean on over the wound. “Still clean it you must. Before dress it you do. Infections good for you are not.” His blood smelt sweet and it was when she noted this that she realised she hadn’t hunted yet that night. Not that she needed to, but she did try to feed on a daily basis so as to keep her bloodlust at bay; after all a well fed vampire, was a better controlled vampire.


<Enver Marshall> "Can I get you something to drink?" A voice spoke to him from above, one that he ignored until the female voice spoke again, asking the same thing, only adding sir to the ending of the question. "Huh? Oh, yeah. House beer is good." He looked at the woman briefly and then back to his wife. "And for the woman?" Enver pinched the bridge of his nose and ordered a whiskey for her, which would really end up being for him. "Are you ready to order?" The woman asked before tacking on, "Or do you two need a few minutes?" Enver flipped open the menu, eyes bouncing from Keara and the guy to the menu. "I'll have the special. The salmon one." He added, as there were two specials for the night. "Think someone should call an ambulance for the guy. He's bleeding all over the place. can't be good for business." Enver added in, hoping to get the guy out of here and out of the hands of his wife.


<Peter Parkman> "Uhm...." he said again, leaning over his own wounded hand as the woman tended to him. He refrained from hissing, though he did tense as she dug the sliver of glass out from under his skin. He might have made a face. The waitress came back with the first aid kit, and a bowl of water with a clean cloth. She seemed relieved that someone else was doing the job that she might have had to do. "Do you want us to call you an ambulance, sir?" she asked. Maybe the staff were gossiping. She glanced between him and the woman. Peter paled at the thought of going to the hospital. Sure, he'd changed his name. Sure... but he still didn't want to. "Ah. No, no. I think I'll be fine," he said. Even if he might need stitches, he didn't care. He didn't want to.


<Keara> She may have been looking at the creature before her but she was still listening for her husband. One of the perks of being a vampire perhaps, or maybe it was just a skill every woman had when it came to being in love. Either way, what he said made her smile, as the guy didn’t need an ambulance and Enver knew it. This meant her plan was working, even if he wasn’t as annoyed as she had been earlier in the evening, it was at least a start and so she pushed things a little further and seated herself at the table with her ‘patient.’ “Here,” she said reaching for his hand that she had let go of after covering it with the napkin. “Looks it does as if help you still require.” She dipped the cloth in the water with one hand and then squeezed it out, her other hand on the table, palm up and waiting to hold his while she tended to the cut.


<Enver Marshall> He knew damn well what she was doing. Same thing she did with Crash. Enver gritted his teeth and cleared his throat. "And for the woman?" The other waitress, designated to his section asked him. "Why don't you go ask her? Put it on his tab too." Enver nudged his head to the guy Keara had made herself at home with. "Just bring the drinks, could you?" Enver fished out a twenty from the wallet in his jacket and tossed it to the table, determined that he wasn't going to play this game with his wife tonight.


<Peter Parkman> The waitress nodded. She glanced over her shoulder at her co-worker. The girls were beginning to realise something was going on, just as Peter knew something wasn't quite right. He pushed the thought from his mind. The waitress from the guy's table came over to whisper to Peter's waitress. "I'll get you another bottle of wine, sir. On the house," she said. "Uhm, I'll bring another glass," she said to the woman, awkwardly. She wandered off. Peter turned back to his spontaneous nurse. He cleared his throat as he laid his hand in her waiting palm. "Thanks," he said. And then: "Aren't you cold?"


<Keara> The fact that the other glass might be for her wasn’t something Keara registered and while she had heard Enver all but dismiss the idea of eating in favour of drinking, she wasn’t about to let that stop her from doing what she’d offered, as while Enver was her priority, she wasn’t the sort to back out of something she had offered to do what with being raised in an era where your word was your bond. She lightly gripped the males arm in place and began cleaning his wound. For a vampire of her strength, she had a light touch and delicately drew the cloth along his skin, making sure to be careful so as not to pull at the wound and make it worse. “Cold I am not. Feel it I do not.” She didn’t elaborate further as not being able to lie meant she couldn’t say she had some rare genetic disposition that would keep her from feeling the element and telling him the truth wasn’t something she was willing to do for the sake of winding up her husband. “Eat you this eve alone?” she asked, trying to change the subject and bring it back to the guy before her.


<Enver Marshall> Another glass? He heard what the waitress said and the fact Keara didn't tell the waitress no, wasn't missed by him. It should have registered with the logical part of his brain that she couldn't enjoy the wine, but all Enver could think about and remember was that she didn't want to be here when he suggested this place as a date because she couldn't eat. But here she was, willing to suck it up and share some wine with some stranger? No way in hell. He stood and headed over to the table. "I'm sorry sir. Is my wife bothering you? She doesn't know about boundaries." He then lowered his voice, like he had a secret to tell the guy. "She just got out of the asyulm about an hour ago." As if that explained Keara's behavior and lack of boundaries. Sure it was a play on words, but Enver wasn't beneath that, especially when this guy was more or less trying to have some romantic night with his wife.

[Enver Marshall II]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--



<Peter Parkman> Peter was far too preoccupied with the way the woman was cleaning his hand--trying to hold still for her--to notice what was happening around them. She answered his question and he wanted to continue with his curiosity; his brow had furrowed, his lips had opened to ask another question, but he was cut off by a question of her own. "Yes," he said. He was alone. He was about to ask how she couldn't feel the cold when it was below zero, when again a harsh voice caused him to jump. This time, only a fork clattered to the ground. His hazel eyes were wide as he stared up at the other male. "No, uhm. She's just helping me. Not bothering me at all..." he said, the latter half of the sentence a near indiscernible mumble. His heart was rocketing in his chest. His mouth was dry. An asylum? Was he kidding? Peter was too awkward to ask - though he did laugh a little, under his breath, not meaning to.


<Keara> The look she shot Enver when he came over and basically called her crazy wasn’t one he could misinterpret. She’d of growled at him but was conscious of the fact she had company of the human variety. “Ignore him,” she said tightening her grip slightly on his arm. “Asylum my home is. Own it I do. Crazy I am not. Though quite obviously my husband wishes that you that believe.” She continued tending to his wound. “His name Enver is. My name Keara is. Perhaps have your name I might?” She wasn’t about to let Enver chase her away from the guy, she’d been the one to drag him in to all this but that didn’t mean to say she was just going to get up and walk off now that she had Enver’s attention.


<Enver Marshall> "Something a crazy person would say." Enver muttured when Keara said she wasn't crazy. He knew she wasn't, but if this guy thought she was, all the better. "She thinks she's a vampire." Enver looked down at the guy's hand that was bleeding then. Blood didn't bother him, having consisted of a diet mostly of blood packs for some time now. And the fact he saw people as people and not as his food source. "Oh, damn. You're bleeding. Best put that puppy away before she takes a chomp out of it." Enver was getting a kick out of this because he was more or less telling the truth and Keara always chastised him for supposedly not telling the truth. So what would she do with that now that he let the cat out of the bag?


<Peter Parkman> "...Peter," Peter replied, slowly, wide eyes glancing between the two warily. The way the woman spoke, disjointed as it was, kind of put Peter off. Made him wonder whether the guy - Enver - was telling the truth. But would a husband really treat his wife that way, if she were in fact mentally unstable? She has his hand in a firm grip, however. Peter felt like he was now dealing with a couple of lions, and if he took one wrong move, they'd eat him whole. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes a little at Keara. "Look, I don't want to... get in the middle," he said. He was about to offer to leave. He should. But he hesitated. He hadn't eaten yet. They had invaded his table.


<Keara> She wanted to reach over and wring his damn neck when he pretty much outed her in a public space. Rule number one as far as she was concerned was protecting their identity and now, now she might have to kill this poor guy. She tried not to let her anger show and continued to wipe at the hand until it was clean. Releasing her grip on his arm, she gave him her awkward smile that kept her fangs hidden and then looked back up at Enver. “No plan have I from his wound to drink,” she replied without giving the sentence as much thought as perhaps she should have. All things considered though it was the best she could do as she couldn’t argue not being what she was. “Sorry I am for you in the middle to place. My husband,” the phrase was dripping with distain, “has at times no manners. Quite rude he can be.” As much as she was trying to remain calm the look in her eyes pretty much said it all, as when it came to Enver she seemed to have trouble hiding her emotions and that look told them both that the guy was gonna be in trouble when she got him home later.


<Enver Marshall> "Sort of hard to not be in the middle of something when you let some guy's wife sit next to you and offer her some wine." Enver scoffed at the guy, before he looked at the two waitresses who were busy working. "Weren't they doing a good enough job with your cut there?" Enver looked over at his wife and gave her a wink. "What's the matter? Truth a bit too much for you tonight, beautiful?" Truth was, the guy was probably going to die anyways, so he was fine with setting his wife on him. If she didn't kill him, Enver might for having the audacity to sit here with his wife and try to wine and dine her. Not that Keara was innocent in any of this in his mind either.


<Peter Parkman> Again, Peter's mouth dropped open. Again, his face drained of colour. Enver was accusing him of planning this, somehow. "No, no..." he started, wanting to explain, but the argument continued between the two of them. There was something definitely not right - the way the woman dressed, the way the guy had moved, far too fast. Now all this talk of asylums and vampires. "It's okay," he said, standing. "You can have my seat," he gestured for the chair, for Enver to take. The wound, though clean, was still bleeding. He had to hold it against his jacket to keep it from dripping. He awkwardly reached into his pocket for his wallet, wanting to leave at least enough cash behind for his bottle of wine.



<Keara> He was being an *** and she was sure he knew it too. This was the side of Enver that she didn’t much care for. Well, okay that wasn’t strictly true, this was the side of Enver that annoyed her no end but still somehow drove her mad with desire, even if that desire was (in that moment) to rip his head off. “Please,” she said reaching for Peter’s good hand. “Leave you should not. This your table was.” She could tell the guy was nervous but it never crossed her mind that he might be taking Enver at his word. “Kicked him I did perhaps too hard in the head earlier this eve. That the only reason is that think I can for why says he does what said he has.” She released his hand and stood up from the chair, her eyes firmly on Enver. ‘Believe I cannot that said that you did,’ she sent Enver as she folded her arms across her chest.


<Enver Marshall> Enver watched Keara drop the male's hand, which was exactly what he wanted. It was even better when she decided to stand up, making him think she was about to take her leave. "Was just being honest with our good friend Peter here. But yeah. Sit, stay. In fact, why don't we all just sit here and stay?" Enver held a hand up to flag a waitress down. "We've decided to join Peter. Put his tab on ours." He said, then turned away from the woman, letting her know this wasn't up for discussion. "So, Peter. What is it you do? For a living?" Enver relaxed in the chair, indicating he was staying put.


<Peter Parkman> Peters stood awkwardly, half toward leaving, eyes longingly cast toward the edge of the pier and the exit into the city. He had half expected the two of them to keep arguing between each other, rather than to pay him any attention. He figured he'd be able to leave, slip away unnoticed. Instead, both of them insisted that he stay. And so he sat, reaching for another clean napkin to clasp in his bleeding hand. He shoved both hands between his knees and sat hunched. "Uhm..." he blinked. The question was so ordinary. The answer evaded him for a few seconds, before he recovered. He cleared his throat. "History. I mean. Teacher. I teach history," he said.


<Keara> He may have seated himself at the table but she had no plans to sit back down and socialise, not after what he’d said and so she stood next to the table her arms still crossed in defiance. She couldn’t trust what might come out of his mouth next though and so she hadn’t actually made a move to leave…yet. Enver had this guy in his sights for some reason and she half suspected that the interest he was showing in the male was to get back at her. She may have started this game but she wasn’t about to let him finish it. “Enver quite rude you are being. Invite yourself to sit with him you cannot. Leave we should. This no date is. Nor would it have been. Without Peter. Dislike this place I do.” She cast her eyes around the room, taking in what everyone else was doing and noting that their little area was getting more than its fair share of attention. She didn’t much like being stared at but she wasn’t going to give Enver the satisfaction of winning this round by sitting down either and so she began to fidget slightly where she stood, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.


<Enver Marshall> "You were fine sitting here not too long ago." Enver shrugged, his attention on Peter. "History you say? My wife knows a lot about history." Enver smirked slowly, then cleared his throat. "We can go on more dates. We've got eternity." Enver looked around, stood and grabbed the drinks from his table before heading back with a slight jog in his steps. "Besides. Date is a loose term. Means a lot of things in this day and age." Enver said as he reclaimed his chair and took a sip of his beer. "Been in town long, Peter?"


<Peter Parkman> The frown deepened over Peter's brow. He didn't like this. Not at all. His head was reeling; he'd soon grown accustomed to giving his name 'Peter' and had quickly learned to acknowledge someone when he was called. But this grilling about his past was not something that he was used to. He had to try to remember. He'd picked his own name, when they put him out here for his own protection. What was the backstory, though? He decided to be vague. "Aaah, a while," he said. And then he stood again. "I think you two have stuff you need to sort out," he said quickly. And then he started to walk away, long heavy strides, almost a run. Of course, in his haste, he didn't realise he'd left his wallet behind, on the table.


<Keara> She was absolutely livid with Enver for what he’d said and couldn’t believe he was making fun of her in front of someone. So focused she was on him, that she almost missed the fact that Peter had left. It was probably a good thing though, as she was about to walk away from the table and sit herself back down in her designated seat, as she didn’t want to play this game anymore. “Like you right now I do not,” she practically spat at Enver before grabbing up the wallet on the table and running after Peter. Usually she’d of looted it of anything decent and tossed the rest in the trash but in that moment she wanted to get away from her husband, so going to give it back was as good an excuse as any to leave the restaurant. “Peter!” she called out after him.


<Enver Marshall> The male scoffed at what she spewed out at him. Like she'd been a peach most the night with her absurd ramblings about some woman, who was really more like a girl in Enver's eyes. He couldn't even be on his boat to get away as she was blasting thoughts in his head that didn't make any damn sense. Why she was always jealous over someone, or something when he wasn't even doing anything to begin with. Enver let her run off so he could finish his beer, then stood up lazily. He sighed and dropped a few bills on the table, somewhat annoyed he was going to miss a meal, something he hadn't had in a long time and then strolled off after his wife. If he found her, great. if not, well, he'd find her. She couldn't spend all night with Peter. Well, she could, but he doubted she would.


<Peter Parkman> As he heard his name, Peter groaned and crossed his arms over his chest. He kept walking, though he did slow down just a little bit. His fingers curled around the edges of his chest--somehow, for such a tall man, he always managed to make himself look like a vulnerable little child. He was always hunching in on himself, as if trying to become as small as possible in order to hide. To stay out of sight. He rolled his head and looked over his shoulder. He saw Keara. He did not see Enver. This was the reason why he stopped. "Look, I don't want to get in the middle. I'm sorry. I'm sure you're lovely people..." his voice cracked. Again he remembered all the 'jokes' about vampirism. The way the woman dressed. The way the man moved. He swallowed, hard, Adam's Apple jumping in his throat.


<Keara> “Forgot this you did,” she said thrusting the wallet at him. “Sorry I am…For what said was…Enver and I…Well…” she really didn’t know how to finish that sentence, as what they were was complicated. “Newly married we are…” she began as if that went some way to explain why they were acting the way they were. “Things between us…Hmm…Well…Love him I do. If believe that you can. Just sometimes…” she let the words trail off a she’d already mentioned having kicked him once and she didn’t want to frighten the guy. She could sense he wasn’t exactly comfortable in her presence but put that down the scene he’d had to endure.


<Enver Marshall> Once he was outside, Enver fished in his jacket for his pack of cigarettes, the zippo, and lit one once it was in his mouth. He stayed back, watching his wife, while Enver worked on the cigarette he had just lit. He couldn't really make out what was being said, only that Peter had been talking and Keara was talking, or more so rambling while talking. If there was an issue, he'd make his presence known quickly, but for now, Enver was quite disinterested with the two, confident Keara would get off whatever kick she was on tonight and they'd end up at home soon. In the mean time, Enver grabbed his phone out, fished out Crash's number and started making plans since his wife was content on keeping whatever it was she had going on with the human, going.


<Peter Parkman> Peter grimaced. He had no idea how to council a marriage. And he really was unsure about this woman standing in front of him. Over her shoulder he could see her husband, Enver. Smoking. Then watching. The paying attention to his phone. "Oh," Peter said as he took the wallet back. He kept his injured hand pressed against the side of his chest. He could still smell the blood. Maybe he'd wander into the vet that he passed on his way to work in the morning - see if they'd stitch it up for him. Surely they'd know how. "Maybe just uhm.... let him... be alone for a while. Think about what he's done," Peter said, the grimace only worsening. He realised, then, that he did spend far too much time with his dogs. Think about what he's done? It's the kind of thing he'd say to the Great Dane after he'd locked her out for ripping a hole in the couch.


<Keara> Keara shook her head, the corner of her mouth curling slightly. “Oh no. That works for us not. Better it works if speak we do…or fight…or…” Finishing that sentence would not have been appropriate and since it wasn’t something she was comfortable talking about she just looked down at her feet, as mad as she was with him the thought of them together made her smile. She just about caught herself before she bit into her lower lip and exposed her fangs, a hand covering her mouth as she turned to look behind her to see if Enver had followed. Odd she thought it was that he was now keeping himself to himself.


<Enver Marshall> Once plans were made, he looked up to see Keara with the human guy still. Enver's jaw clenched as he stuffed the phone in his pocket before he thought at her direction. 'Have fun with your new boy toy. Crash and I have plans.' Normally he'd have it in him to keep at it with her, but not tonight. He was tired and his head still throbbed slightly from the kick to his skull and the smack to it. Enver flicked some ash off his cigarette, then headed their way, ignoring the two of them, for the most part. "See you, Peter." Enver gave the guy a quick wave before he headed off to the direction of the train station that would eventually take him to the other side of town where Crash was. He didn't care what Keara did or didn't do with the male; kill him or leave him be, truth be told. If he lived past tonight, he could thank Enver for revealing the truth about the city and find Enver later. If he died, well, his wife had killed someone for a few reasons less than that before.


<Peter Parkman> Peter reeled backwards, literally, at the sight of fangs. The gasp got caught in his throat in a kind of hiccup. Maybe this woman was certifiably insane. The reasonable part of his brain told him that she had filed those teeth in some mad scheme, and that he should be afraid of her not because she was actually a vampire, but because she believed she was. Belief was stronger than actuality, sometimes. All kinds of carnage had been committed all throughout history in the name of belief. There was also that irrational part of his brain - there were plenty of conspiracy theories he'd read in the dusty old history journals that argued for the existence of vampires. And then again - the clothes. The moving, far too fast. His head snapped up as he heard his name; Enver was, apparently, leaving. He stood, rooted to the spot, frozen in space - just kind of glancing at Enver and then staring at Keara's hand, as it covered her mouth. Maybe if he stood very quietly, very still, they'd both forget about him and he could breathe easy again.


<Keara> Leaving! Yeah like she was going to allow that. They weren’t finished and he’d vowed to stay with her and work these things out. Not being the kind that was comfortable grabbing a hold of someone else unless she was going to harm or drink them, she really only had moments to think of something to say or do to get Enver’s attention back. So focused she was on him, that she didn’t even realise that Peter had caught sight of her fangs, something she was ever so careful to hide when in public. ‘If leave you do,’ she sent him, ‘walk home naked I shall. And mean that I do. Walk through the city I shall.’


<Enver Marshall> Enver stopped in his tracks and pondered what she had thought over. Would she really walk home naked? Enver didn't want to even risk the possibility. "Like hell you will." Enver growled out, to no one really as he wasn't quite near them before he was making his way back to Keara. "Seems my wife has taken a liking to you, Peter." Enver spoke as he found his way back over to them, but still kept his distance. He wasn't exactly thrilled his wife was sticking to this human, someone she would normally consider food, or some frail being, so what was it about Peter that had her so interested in him? "If you like him so much, why don't you just make him like Crash? I want to go home already." Enver glared at his wife, his desire to do anything waning with each minute that ticked by.

[Keara Aithne]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--



<Peter Parkman> Peter felt trapped. There was water behind him. Enver on one side, blocking his escape. Keara on the other - he couldn't go that way anyway. There were only boats. And he couldn't swim. A grown man who couldn't swim - he was far too ashamed at this point in his life to admit to it, and thus kept that secret all to himself. And avoided the beach. He swallowed again. He should have tried to excuse himself again, but he was the proverbial deer in headlights. He was that figure in the dream that could not move because his feet were stuck in mud. "...I'm... Crash? Like... what? No...uhm...." he shook his head, lost for words; he was good when in front of a lecture theatre, when he knew what he was talking about. But here? Not good at all.


<Keara> “Notice I do that not brave enough you are for within striking distance of me to stand.” Her mouth was uncovered once more as she bore no outward smile and yet on the inside she was kind of happy she’d gotten him to return to her even if he was keeping his distance. “Thought I did that read you did my journal. Know you should by now that capable of that I am not,” she was talking about taking a thrall of course and even if she had the ability she wasn’t sure she’d use it as she didn’t want a pet and that’s what they struck her as. “Purposely trying to upset me you are. Belittle me you do and poke fun. Well find this funny I do not Enver.” She folded her arms, the human momentarily forgotten. Keara usually wouldn’t have paid the guy any attention at all, he could have cut his hand off in that restaurant and she wouldn’t have batted an eyelash but tonight, tonight she tried playing her husband’s game and it seemed she was losing. What was worse, with Enver near her instincts were not as sharp as they should have been and she’d failed to notice the fact that Peter had seen what he seen; which for him was probably a good thing, as had she of noted that she’d probably have killed him by now as she wasn’t the sort to leave witnesses.


<Enver Marshall> He waved her off. "Hardly making fun of you. You are good at history. You've lived most of it." He scoffed, then looked back over in Peter's direction. "Want me to make him like Crash?" He offered, clearly wanting to resolve whatever this was with the human and go home.


<Peter Parkman> Now he knew he was being ignored. At least by Keara. He still felt like he was caught in the eye of a storm. It felt like the full violence of it had yet to come. His heart thudded in his chest in anticipation of it. Where one seemed calm, the other did not. And sometimes they swapped places. And Peter just wanted to get the hell out of dodge. They kept referring to him as if he were an inanimate object with no say in the matter. The rhythm of his heart only got faster as Enver mentioned having 'lived most of' history. What the ****, right? He finally spoke, his heart felt like it was in his throat, messing with his vocal cords. "Look, it's kinda odd that she has fangs and that you seem to be able to I don't know, move like The Flash. I have no idea who Crash is and I'm imagining some kind of bandicoot but really I'd like to just go now. I'm going to go now," he said. He was hemmed in, but that didn't mean he couldn't push past. He strode toward Enver, fully intending on passing him and running in the direction of the transit.


<Keara> “Most? Most?” she sounded ferious. “How old do you think me? Know you do that that untrue is. Hard it is for to witness anything from that accursed place. Been there you have. Know this you do.” She had no idea how this sounded to Peter, mainly as she was kind of talking as he was. “Take him you cannot…” her words trailed off as something the frail creature was saying finally caught her attention. “What say you?” she asked as she moved to block Peter’s path, grabbing him by the arm to stop him from leaving before she had her answer. “Enver…what is The Flash?” she asked casting her eyes to her husband, all the anger she felt towards him seemingly gone as she posed the question.


<Enver Marshall> The Flash? No one ever referred to him as something like that before. "Huh." Was all Enver could say, most of what Keara was saying lost on him as he thought about how he may or may not be like The Flash. "Flash? I'll introduce you to him some other night." Enver said after he ran a hand through his hair. "Think Peter is about to high tail it." Enver pointed out as he saw the guy's back in his line of vision. "Take him I damn well can. Crash'll be alright. If you like Peter so much, I'll just make him like Crash." For Enver to be so open about the idea should have had warning bells ringing in Keara's mind, given he was just jealous of the guy a mere handful of minutes ago, but it wasn't as if he was going to tell her why he was fine with making Peter his thrall.


<Peter Parkman> Now he feels like he's in trouble. Keara moves to block his path and his breath hitches in his throat. Enver is acting suave, however, which calms Peter only a tiny bit. He keeps talking about 'making him like Crash' and Peter doesn't quite like the sound of it. He doesn't want to be a bandicoot. He can't get the image of the bandicoot out of his head. If it were any other scenario, he'd feel the urge to explain exactly who The Flash is. Right now, though, he doesn't feel like giving a lecture on nerd culture. The woman is purposefully blocking his path, grabbing onto his arm to keep him from moving. Peter assumes that given his superior height, however, that he should have superior strength. He does his best to wrench his arm from her grasp, and to keep moving toward freedom. He doesn't bother trying to talk to them anymore.


<Keara> Enver’s answer wasn’t exactly helpful in that moment and she still wondered what The Flash was, but she had to push that question aside as he started telling her he could take the guy if he wanted. Only a few minutes before this he was willing to walk away and leave the guy to her and now here he was wanting to take him as a thrall and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. As the male struggled to break her grasp, she tightened her grip, holding him in place. She was stronger even than her husband, so this frail thing wasn’t going to get away from her. “You would Crash release for this one to take? Why?” she asked, watching him more carefully. “What see you in him that I do not?”


<Enver Marshall> "Crash'll be alright. Won't hurt his feelings any." It was all Enver was going to give up, but truth was if Peter was his thrall, then in his mind Peter would be off limits to Keara, so that'd be fine with him. "I can text Crash right now. He's not too far away." Enver offered, as he pretty much made up his mind. Keara said he couldn't do it, but now he was going to. So he whipped out his phone and started texting Crash his location. "Problem solved. After this we can go home. Come on Peter." Enver moved to grab him from Keara. "Don't treat Peter like that. He's a person." Which really meant, don't treat my soon to be thrall like that, as he's mine.


<Peter Parkman> Peter's expression shifts into a wide grimace, mouthing the 'Ow' sound but only managing a low rumble of displeasure in the back of his throat. The woman was strong. Way too goddamned strong, and she wasn't letting him go anywhere. Her fingers would bruise, where she held him tight. Not only that, but Enver then decided Peter was his to 'take'; came around to manhandle him, too. Peter tried his best to get out of both their grasps. "I am a person!" he shouted in panic. "I'm not anyone's to 'take'. Just let me go home. Please, ****, just let me go home. I'll wake up in the morning and all this **** about vampires and men moving too fast and women wearing ... that, in the dead of winter, will all be just some kind of nightmare and I'll forget all about it. Just let me go," he pleaded, still trying to shove past, to get away.


<Keara> “Fine. Take him. See if care I do. Though keep Crash you will not. Same fate as Hannah he will suffer.” She was speaking as if she’d already taken care of the vapid blonde, but she hadn’t, not yet, she wanted enough time to pass that the police wouldn’t come to Enver for answers if she disappeared. Keara could be passionate and hot tempered when it came to Enver but she certainly wasn’t stupid. She released her grip on the male and, with the palms of her hands, thrust him at Enver. “Replace Crash. When arrives he does mine he’ll be. Hope I do that remember he does the feel of my fangs as I into his neck do bite…Wish you to watch?”


<Enver Marshall> Enver growled as Keara went on a tangent and talked ahout fates of his thralls. They were his and in his mind off limits, even if he had released Hannah a little while ago from his services. "Like hell." He snarled out as Peter was tossed his way and Keara went on to goad him, knowing how he felt about her feeding off his thrall. Peter or Crash. "Be mighty hard to feed off him when he's a vampire, don't you think?" Enver wasn't one to sire on a whim and usually the person had to be in some sort of fatal circumstance for the guy to consider it, but with Peter as a vampire, wouldn't that just put a damper in things? He sure thought so. With Peter tossed his way, it wasn't too hard to sink his fangs in the guy, not caring who, if anyone was around, or what Keara thought of it either.


<Peter Parkman> They were talking too fast about things that Peter could not comprehend. Things that had his mind reeling; they were being utterly and completely serious and they were both certifiably insane - even if, in the moment, they had the look and confidence of complete, clear lucidity. He was shoved and pushed like a toy between two fighting children and Peter was about to lose his temper completely - timidity taking a backburner - when he was caught completely off guard. He was yanked down, forward. Enver's teeth sunk painfully into his neck and Peter shouted. He reached up instinctively to wrench at the male's hair, to try to pull his teeth out of the skin of his neck. He struggled and pushed and punched Enver's ribs, his torso. He didn't quite know what he was doing as stars flared in his eyes and the blinding, seering pain spread through his entire body. This wasn't a nightmare. It was reality, and Peter was scared shitless.


<Keara> Keara couldn’t believe what she was hearing; he was going to sire the guy! She felt conflicted by this but in her mind it meant he couldn’t tell her what to do with him, not after the back and forth he’d had with Sara. If he was allowed treat her like that, she could treat Peter however she damn pleased. In fact, as that thought crossed her mind, she called to the shadows to bring the darkness around them and moved to embrace Peter, biting into the other side of his neck.


<Enver Marshall> Darkness came and he knew she was the source behind it. His wife was a shadow and he was doing something she more than likely didn't like. Wasn't hard to put two and two together. Enver felt her near him before he knew what she was doing, but when he knew what she was trying to do, he wasn't thrilled about it. He wasn't going to let Peter be hers. No way in hell. So he did the only thing he could think of, that didn't entail throwing his wife off him and potentially hurting her, he tried to prolong his life by muttering a few words, a trick he had learned from the necromancer wraith a few months back, as Enver tried to rip Peter away from her. He only needed Peter for a few seconds to himself and Enver could do what he needed to do and Peter would be his.


<Peter Parkman> Peter thought, surely, that someone would see this fuckery and come help him. Soon, there'd be the pounding of footsteps on the wooden wharf, there'd be shouting and panic. But no. There was none of that. There was just darkness. And a twin pain on the other side of his neck. Peter gave a wail of despair and fell to his knees; pain cracked through his legs as he was set upon. As his body warred between vitality and death. As he continued to struggle, in absolute vain.


<Keara> She had no idea he was trying to prolong Peter’s life but she did feel the male being ripped away from her. At this point she lunged forward with a speed she didn’t know she possessed and seized a hold of him once more. As Enver continued to drink from him and drain him dry, she ripped into her own wrist, opening her vein and pressed it to Peter’s lips. Enver may be the one to take his life but she’d be damned if he’d be the one to restore it and bring him to darkness. She held the open wound to his lips and bid him to drink with her mind, hoping that Enver wouldn’t realise what she was doing until it was too late.


<Enver Marshall> Peter was fighting against the two of them, or maybe just Enver. Enver had learned long ago that his bite was one that often led people to fight against it, or remember exactly what he did, which was what he belived had gotten him caught more times than not. Upon that realization; the idea that Enver was usually hurting someone each time her fed, his diet had changed significantly to bagged blood, not that the male minded any. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on one's perception of things, Enver had no idea what Keara was doing, given the shadows she had drawn to the three of them, shadows that partially blinded the male in complete darkness. Still, he was certain she wasnt going to give up, so he tried to sustain life in Peter again as Enver moved to try and be the first to sire Peter. One hand on Peter, trying to sustain life, as he brought the other to his lips to rip in to his wrist with his fangs. He managed to get that far and tried to offer it to Peter, but in the dark, his wrist fell short of anywhere near Peter's mouth and landed more so on his forehead.


<Peter Parkman> There wasn't anything Peter could do to avoid the wrist at his mouth. He was trapped, caught between the two vampires fighting over him, taking the blood from him so that his body grew weak. Maybe the very idea of someone - two people - drinking his blood (drinking it!) had him on the verge of fainting. He felt battered and manhandled. And he couldn't pull away from the fount at his mouth - he didn't immediately realise it was someone's wrist, or that he was being forced to drink blood. Except that the liquid that did land on his tongue was both disgusting and amazing. Both disturbing and utterly magical - so much so that he stopped struggling. He didn't push the taste away, even though there was a voice in the back of his head telling him to do just that. Instead, he was grasping the wrist tight, vice-like, swallowing whatever it was he was being fed with gross enthusiasm.


<Keara> She could smell Enver’s blood even in the darkness, the very scent of it causing her to bite her lower lip; though he likely couldn’t see her do it. Her hunger for her husband was about the only thing that could ever displace the anger she felt, which was possibly why a lot of their arguments ended in the same way, and so as the frail creature clung to her wrist all the negativity she’d ben harbouring towards him began to melt away. “Sorry My Love. But mine he is,” she vocalised her claim on Peter with a note of bitter sweet satisfaction as while she had in fact won this round, she wasn’t sure exactly if what she’d won was worth it yet. Usually she tracked her prey for days before siring or something would happened that would force her hand into making a split decisions and while this event fell under the heading of the later, she had never once taken a life that didn’t believe deserved it and she’d never sired to keep a creature from another…let along to keep them from one she loved.


<Enver Marshall> Hers? Peter was hers? If she couldn't thrall him, that could only mean one thing. Keara had managed to sire Peter, even as Enver attempted to prevent that from happening. A growl escaped him as Enver pushed Peter away from him, and at her. He was sore about losing this battle between the two of them, and irritated that she seemed to be gloating about it. "Guess I'll let you two get better acquainted. Hopefully this one isn't a compulsive liar too." Enver didn't stick around to wait for some retort from her or to see if Peter would actually be made a vampire before the male was gone in a blink of an eye.


<Peter Parkman> The shove brought Peter back to reality. For quite a few moments he was lost to the taste of the liquid in his mouth; he swallowed without shame, his dazed brain suffering from lack of blood was uncomprehending. The shove, however, reminded him of reality. A sharp, strong ache took up residence in his gut. He coughed and fell forward. He let go of Keara's wrist. Blood and spittle tainted his mouth, dripping from his lips and staining the wood of the deck below him. And then the pain got worse, a thousand times worse, and Peter doubled over, clutching at his stomach as if he were going to tear it open and rip out the offending pain. An agonised groan came unbidden from his throat.


<Keara> She didn’t have time to stop Enver from leaving as Peter was thrust at her…or more accurately to the floor perhaps, as that was where he ended up, noises emanating from him that were both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Every turning was different and while some would writhe in agony, others would be completely still. Even if she hadn’t thought this through, she wasn’t about to abandon a childe who was turning before her. “Peter? Okay you will be. Promise you that I do. Know perhaps that feel you this now do not but rise stronger you shall for this.” She placed her hand on his back and began mumbling to herself.


<Peter Parkman> He didn't feel as if he were going to be okay. He felt like he was dying; each organ began to shut down, the organs that he would not need. His fingers curled into fists as he all but sobbed, wanting for it to stop. He didn't know how long he sat there, on his kneed, leaning forward so that his forehead (covered in Enver's blood) leaned against his arm. He seemingly clung to that wooden deck as if for dear life, his head spinning, until each sharp pain subsided to a dull ache. He didn't die. And when finally he opened his eyes he had to squint. Everything suddenly seemed so bright. He was aware of Keara's presence beside him. "... what did you do to me?" he asked in a gasp.


<Keara> Enver had gone but his scent remained, a fact that confused Keara, as she had not noted the blood of her husband upon her childe’s forehead. She sat there and waited, waited to see how he would rise and what he would say as the circumstances of his turning were far from normal and had she given pause to reflect on the moment she may have realised that the man before her might just hate them both for what they’d done. “Enver lying earlier was not. A vampire I am,” she whispered. “Though suspect I do that that you gathered already have. Made you one of us we have. To the darkness you are born.” This statement was truer than she realised. “Come…Take you home I shall…answer then I shall questions which likely ask you will.” With that she teleported him across the city to the doors of the asylum, tomed home and opened the door to welcome him in to his new life.