--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
* Andromeda sat upon the tall stool, her feet crossed thus as any lady would see it proper as to do so. The brown haired girl; a vision of just over 19 years old and her petite hand strumming the bow across her Ebony violin as she lost herself in the piece by Johann Sebastian Bach. Andromeda kept her piecing white hues locked on the distance in the bar, seemingly staring at nothing.
‹Jesse Fforde› Bars are not places that Jesse frequents. He cannot drink, he cannot eat, and he cannot get drunk. But sometimes, sometimes he's drawn to the crowds, to the heat and the anonymity. Lancaster's was a place he'd never stepped foot into before, but he did so now. It is close to home, so why not? The sign out front had advertised Open Mic Night and to begin with, he'd been drawn to the place because there'd been some band, loud and boisterous. Jesse had ordered himself a beer for the sake of blending in, but did not drink it. He lounges, now, by the fire, in one of the armchairs. A petite girl had taken up the stage with a slow piece. A violin. Couldn't be more different to the previous performers. Jesse watches, somewhat curious, somewhat intrigued - trying to figure out whether he likes it or not. Regardless, he found himself bringing his fingers to his lips, letting loose a howling wolf whistle, breaking up the decidedly melodious song soaring from the violin.
* Andromeda gave the most briefest of nods to a Blonde waitress that approached, glancing down slightly when the woman placed another small glass bottle of sparkling water in front of her. Andy never did drink, she considered the very notion of alcohol to be a bringer of chaos and disorder. Yet here she was, in a bar of all places, playing to a bunch of thugs and mindless barbarians in possible hopes of maybe bringing culture to the fools who seemed to decide it was time to start whistling. Something was quickly bothering her though and she was quick to come to her attention as she noticed that the bottle had not been set upon a coaster. That was unacceptable and the girl quickly delivered justice as she stopped the song to wack the Waitress across the shoulder with the bow. Andromeda pushed a coaster forward with her foot and giving the woman an icy stare which switched quickly between her, the bottle and the drinks coaster as the blonde quickly complained. "What the hell...Ugh Fine.". The Waitress placed the drink on its properly assigned position on the coaster and gave Andy a nasty glare; who had started to play again, then she departed back to the bar.
‹Jesse Fforde›The music stops and Jesse watches with vague interest as the fierce child-like woman - not because she's acting childish but because she's so damned small - whacks an unsuspecting waitress over the shoulders. As if the waitress were a student and this performer the displeased teacher. From where he was lounging, Jesse stands so that he can see over the heads of the crowd. Watches as the waitress is forced to put the pitcher of water onto a coaster. The tattooed man smirks. He saunters through the crowd and paces in front of the stage, the music washing over him. It is beautiful, in its complex simplicity. Not usually his style, but he can appreciate the skill. He wanders past the pitcher - he picks it up and takes a swig. Water that he does not swallow, lips closed so that none actually enters his mouth. When he puts it back down, he places it back on the wooden stage. Off the coaster. He then shoves his hands into his pockets and stands back, sharp eyes gazing up at the violinist.
* Andromeda’s icy gaze settled on the man with all those tattoos and her internal monologue raged 'Just look at him standing there so pleased with him, he meant to do that, with all those nasty tattoos all so chaotic...no sense of order to them at all'. When the man placed the bottle back down and off the coaster, her eyes narrowed and like a knee jerk reaction, her foot came out to boot the bottle straight at the man's face as she strummed her final note for that evening. Her music was better offered to those who appreciate it, despite her efforts tonight. She had decided that these group of Neanderthal's were better suited to sitting around picking fleas off each other.
‹Jesse Fforde› Of course the reaction is exactly why Jesse did what he did. Curiosity, as to whether what he had witnessed was as he had assumed - she was some kind of uber control freak. Or someone who could not control her anger. Either way, Jesse thoroughly missed pissing people off just for the sake of pissing them off. It had been a youthful pursuit that he'd inadvertently given up recently, to be replaced by seriousness and concern. Sure, he probably irritated Grey a little bit with his childish games, but he didn't indulge in them as much as he liked anymore. Preternatural reflexes had him catching the bottle as it came pelting in his direction, though of course that did not stop him from being doused in the ice-cold water. He could have been pissed, but instead he was cackling like a maniac. A glance sideways told him that his actions weren't exactly appreciated by the bar's employees. But who gives a ****? He'd probably never be back. He threw the waitress a wink before flicking the remainder of the bottle's water at the performer's feet, as if this were a playground and they'd willingly engaged in a game of water tag.
* Andromeda almost snarls as the water went over her heels and Andy drops down off the stool, kicking it aside as she dropped down from the stage; Voilin in one hand and the bow in the other. Andromeda's pale eyes were almost white hot stepped up close to him, giving him a fierce look of utter loathing and disgust even thought she was almost a foot shorter then him. It didn't seem to bother her the slightest. "I'm sorry, did I distract you from your attempts to pluck the lowest end of the gene pool in an attempt to find a mate?" she sneers at the male, turning to give the waitress that he had winked at a look of distaste before turning back to give Jesse the same hard look and continued. "But nice arm reflexes, I guess it must be all the times you've spent alone with the girly magazines."
‹Jesse Fforde› It's still funny to Jesse, the way she nearly snarls - he can see it in her face, the twitching anger. He holds his hands behind his back and doesn't budge an inch as he is confronted. He himself stands at six feet and two inches, and has to look down at this very angry, elfish girl. The words slide over him, penetrating only enough for him laugh a little more. There's a lot of life in this bright young thing. A lot of violence too, maybe, though she's done nothing in retribution for his teasing. "Perhaps you have it all wrong," he says, voice broken and husky due to so many years of disuse. "Did you stop to think that perhaps you didn't distract me, but instead became the aim of my game?" he asks, clearly still amused. No, he wasn't here to pluck the lowest end of the gene pool for a mate. He was here to pluck it for a meal. Something that this bright little thing might realise a little too late.
* Andromeda raised a slender eyebrow at the males words as she give a slightly besmused look. "I do not care much for games but if this is a feeble attempt to court... i'll take a Tonic with Lime." she tells him and waves him off dismissively towards the bar area, while she had no apparent feelings towards the man yet. Andy had decided she could take advantage of the man's interest; whether sexual or not, to at least get something out of this. Maybe a man servant for the day or just someone to just belittle for a while.
‹Jesse Fforde› Jesse arches a brow, the gleam in his eye dancing playfully. Court? Who says that **** anymore? He wonders whether this chick has some kind of medieval fetish. He smirks. "I'm no gentleman, m'lady," he says with a cant of his head. "This isn't a court. It is a bar," he glances through the crowd as it parts, revealing a slight view of the bar itself. "He narrows his eyes, and points to one of the busy servers behind it. "I think that guy can get you your tonic and lime," he says, as if he's the most helpful soul in the room, giving this girl all the information that she requires.
* Andromeda placed her hand in her hand and continued in a firm voice that matched her equally hard stare. "Well it's overly apparent that you are no gentlemen... you WILL bring me that drink or you WILL leave my sight before I shove this..." she raised the bow off the table. "..where the sun doesn't shine. Are we ******* clear?" she really does give a snarl now before once again dismissing him off as she attended her Violin and placing it back in its protective carry case.
‹Jesse Fforde› Jesse had made up his mind. The reason he had come to this establishment was because such places were watering holes for humankind. It's always easy to find a meal to pluck from the crowd. More often than not he used that specific power he had to boost his own blood, or he bought packs from the shops. The less dead and drained bodies there were, the less feeding, the less chance for vampire-kind to be discovered. Less curiosity, from those who'd seek to hunt them, to reveal them, to destroy them. But every now and again, Jesse had to indulge. He had to give in to his most basic desire - hot, throbbing, alive human blood. He needs it. The constant, insatiable burn in his throat, the ache, demanded it. This poor violinist had become Jesse's target. He could continue to tease her, but what would be the point? It's as she's distracted putting away her instrument that he slips back, into the crowd, losing himself amongst the thriving bodies. Stealthy, without a sound or a breath of air. But he would not lose sight of her. Not once. He'd continue to watch, and he'd wait. He'd wait until the perfect moment.
* Andromeda finished packing her violin, giving the briefest of glances to where the man who annoyed her once stood. Good, she was not particularly a fan of the man at the moment but a deep down a little twinge of sadness crept up. This was why she didn't have any friends, it often seemed her standards for friendship were far too high, but it was far better to keep high standards then sink into low. Andy finished what she was doing and made her way through the crowd to the exit, her mind now focused on important things as she drew out a moist clean wipe and rubbed each hand twice with it and the handle of her violin case. This was her ritual whenever she left a foreign building and she folded the folded the used wipe 4 times exactly and placed it in the bin carefully before making her way out the door and down the street to go to one of the only places she trusted to serve her food.
Compulsive Obsession
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Jesse Fforde
- Registered User
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- Joined: 30 Jun 2012, 09:32
- CrowNet Handle: Fox
Re: Compulsive Obsession
--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
‹Jesse Fforde› Jesse watches. And he follows. He takes note of the way she wipes her hands and the handle of her case. Of the way she neatly folds her little napkin, as if the bin is going to care about the state of the contents that it swallows. He slips out of the same exit, a full ten steps behind the woman. One glance over his shoulder assures him that no one had noticed him; no one had cared to look. Most people averted their eyes from him, for whatever reason. They liked to avoid having anything to do with him - some kind of aura that he gave off. He doesn't mind it. As he walks, he picks up the pace. Quietly, stealthily, until he's caught up. He jogs the last few steps; one hand over the girl's mouth, another around her small waist, as he tugs her into the nearest, darkest space, a hole-in-the-wall alleyway that may or may not lead anywhere. All that matters is that it's out of sight.
* Andromeda lets out a muffled gasp when the hand closed over her mouth, Digusting, someone was actually touching her skin. That seemed to play on her mind more than anything, more than the fact that the second hand around her waist was now dragging toward a dark place where this predator would do unspeakable things to her. But she was no helpless fairy princess, she wasn't about to cry or go away quietly into the night, so the hand upon her mouth was useless as she would not beg for help. Andy struggles with all her might, kicking back with her heel to try and strike the most sensitive of areas. This was her fight and she would give him hell before the end.
‹Jesse Fforde› Of course she would struggle. Jesse would expect nothing less. Once upon a time he might have played the game for longer; he would have seen this raging ***** as a challenge, would have wanted to lure her, soften her up, make her think she was getting lucky before taking her life. Since meeting Grey, however, those games had come to a complete stand still. He had no interest in trying to lure other women. His fun had been had, pushing the girl's buttons. And now her time was up. His hand remained tight over the girl's lips as he swung her around and pushed her back up against the wall. He kept her at arm's length, away from her kicking legs - she'd got far too close to his family jewels already, and his inner thigh might be bruised if he didn't heal so quick. He had a hold of one of her hands, pinning it to the wall beside her head. Rather than strike, he merely looks at her. For a few long seconds, he just stands there and looks - not at her body, no. Just at her face - her eyes, mainly. Trying to see what he could see beyond them.
* Andromeda blinks as she recognised the man, just able to see his face in the darkness. She felt his strength and knew she couldn't win on that front, her kicking seemed to do nothing so she let her limbs be still as she resigned herself to her fate. When she gazed back into his eyes, through her pale orbs he would see layers of cold hatred, then Fear.. a torturous fear so great that it was seemed to encase her entire heart with ice and there was only a glimmer of warmth that seemed to break it's barrier. Everything else in her mind was rattled and indistinguishable, a crazed need to have order in her life a sense of control that she had for much of her life been deprived of.
‹Jesse Fforde› Although there's fear in the eyes of the violinist, there's also something else. It's the hatred that Jesse sees, which he latches onto. The coldness of her stare. There's something in it, something indistinguishable which he could admit to seeing in a few others. Some kind of spark that he'd never be able to explain, which had the gears shifting in his brain. The sudden decision, the spontaneous desire to again indulge in one of his more volatile addictions. He closes the distance, hand still over the girl's mouth. "It'll all be just fine, m'lady. I'll get you something better than Tonic and Lime," he whispers in her ear before his lips pull back, baring sharp and eager canines. He tugs her head to the side, opening her neck more to him before he strikes, teeth sliding easy, puncturing the tender skin over the vein. The hot blood spills over his tongue; it tastes like the best damned home-cooked meal he'd ever had, clean and sharp. As if even this girl's blood is as prim and proper as she is. He makes no sound as he takes her life from her, one mouthful at a time.
* Andromeda blinked and her mind race, barely even hearing his words over her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a sharp pain and then feeling like nothing she'd ever felt before, it was more than blood draining, it was her life. She didn't move though for a moment as her life flowed into the man's mouth, her mind becoming hazy but she the smallest amount of clarity managed a swift kick to Jesse's nuts. She really didn't expect it to do much but she could at least give the man something to remember her by when she heart finally slowed and stopped, every last breath slow and petrifying. 'It's finally..over..' were the last thoughts that crept through her mind as she blacked out entirely.
‹Jesse Fforde› Jesse is accustomed to draining his victims dry, and admittedly, he gets a bit too enthusiastic about this one, too. Even though he had decided that he wouldn't kill her, not entirely. There's a snarled grown that vibrates against the girl's neck as she manages to kick him where he'd prefer not to be kicked, ever - he remembers the feisty threats that Grey had posted on the Andras Crow to that fanatic, should she go anywhere near Jesse's jewels. He imagines what Grey'd do to this one, if she had witnessed the abuse. It's not long after that the body goes entirely limp in his grasp and he remembers. That's right. Carefully, he lays the girl out on the cement. He slaps her across the cheek. "C'mon, prove to me you're not that ******* weak," he growls. With canines still sharp, he tears a hole in his own skin, over the vein on his wrist. Bright, rich red blood seethes to the surface, and he roughly holds the wound to the girl's lips. If she dies, so be it. It wasn't meant to be. If she lives? Maybe she won't hate him. Maybe she will. He'll let her decide.
* Andromeda didn't feel the blood against her lips or the liquid drip down her throat, but the subconscious part of her brain made her swallow as it became quickly avoid of flesh blood. Slowly the cursed blood made its way into her system working through her to start its reanimation and giving her enough strength to start drinking deeply from the man's wrist, still clinging onto the very edge between life and death. The vampiric blood did it's work, slowly evolving this Feisty Violinist into a Cold blooded killer as her eyes snapped one once more, blazing white hot and predatory as she started to drain faster and faster; uncontrollably almost.
‹Jesse Fforde› A low rumble of satisfaction rolls in Jesse's throat as the girl opens her eyes and pulls the blood from his wrist. It was slow to begin with, and he'd almost given her up for dead. She'd not reacted to his slap, or his words. She'd not been on the edge of waking, not then. Not until her body realised exactly what it was that it was being given, and demanded more in order to instinctively claim the life back which had been taken. Jesse allows her to drink - to take as much as she needs. He even pushes a hand beneath her neck and shoulders to lift her, to help her sit up, to give her better access to the found that he has given to her. There's a wild gleam in his unnaturally blue eyes as he feels it. As the blood starts to work its magic, the bond is forged. Created by the swapping of blood; his life now given to her. His blood, giving her power and immortality. He takes a deep breath. He does not need it, but he holds onto it anyway. It's euphoric, this feeling. This is why he does it. This is why none of his progeny, bar Grey, had a choice in the matter. Because, just as Ishaq is addicted to his beloved drug, this is Jesse's drug. "That's it," he almost purrs. Even as he feels his head begin to spin. "Take your life back," he says with a wild smirk.
* Andromeda drinking slowed to a stop as full consciousness was she regained and she pulled herself away from the man's wrist and coughed, wiping at her mouth for the blood that still remained. Horrible, someone else's filthy blood upon her lips and she managed to gasp out despite her weakness. "What the hell have you done to me.." she hissed softly and tried to pull away from the man but failing, she couldn't figure out if it's because she wanted to stay next to him or just weakness. She turned her white hued eyes on the man and glanced over him, why did she now feel a connection to him?, something deep and far beyond anything she had felt with anyone. She blinks again and glanced around sitting up in almost a scramble. "and where's my violin?" she felt around in the darkness in an futile effort to find her prized possession.
‹Jesse Fforde› Somewhere along the way, the violin had fallen from the girl's grasp. The case isn't too far from them - it lays on its side just out of reach. As soon as his wrist is released, Jesse brings the gash to his lips - one lick of his own blood and the wounds heal over. They would have healed anyway, but best not to lose any more blood than he already has. He pushes himself to his feet and, in one stride, reaches down for the case, picking it up by the handle. "Calm down, precious. It's right here," he says. There's still that grin on his face. The bond is strong. It's there. It's vibrant and pulsing with new life, and though he has lost a lot of blood, he feels stronger, somehow. It's hard to explain, and he's only ever tried once. Maybe twice. He has created something - something independent and wilful, but his creation nonetheless. He turns and holds out his hand to his newest progeny. An act of good will, to help her up and onto her feet. "I've turned you into a vampire, m'lady. Jesse Fforde is my name. And I think you should come home with me," he says, without a hint of sarcasm, with honesty that he assumes she'll no doubt laugh at.
‹Jesse Fforde› Jesse watches. And he follows. He takes note of the way she wipes her hands and the handle of her case. Of the way she neatly folds her little napkin, as if the bin is going to care about the state of the contents that it swallows. He slips out of the same exit, a full ten steps behind the woman. One glance over his shoulder assures him that no one had noticed him; no one had cared to look. Most people averted their eyes from him, for whatever reason. They liked to avoid having anything to do with him - some kind of aura that he gave off. He doesn't mind it. As he walks, he picks up the pace. Quietly, stealthily, until he's caught up. He jogs the last few steps; one hand over the girl's mouth, another around her small waist, as he tugs her into the nearest, darkest space, a hole-in-the-wall alleyway that may or may not lead anywhere. All that matters is that it's out of sight.
* Andromeda lets out a muffled gasp when the hand closed over her mouth, Digusting, someone was actually touching her skin. That seemed to play on her mind more than anything, more than the fact that the second hand around her waist was now dragging toward a dark place where this predator would do unspeakable things to her. But she was no helpless fairy princess, she wasn't about to cry or go away quietly into the night, so the hand upon her mouth was useless as she would not beg for help. Andy struggles with all her might, kicking back with her heel to try and strike the most sensitive of areas. This was her fight and she would give him hell before the end.
‹Jesse Fforde› Of course she would struggle. Jesse would expect nothing less. Once upon a time he might have played the game for longer; he would have seen this raging ***** as a challenge, would have wanted to lure her, soften her up, make her think she was getting lucky before taking her life. Since meeting Grey, however, those games had come to a complete stand still. He had no interest in trying to lure other women. His fun had been had, pushing the girl's buttons. And now her time was up. His hand remained tight over the girl's lips as he swung her around and pushed her back up against the wall. He kept her at arm's length, away from her kicking legs - she'd got far too close to his family jewels already, and his inner thigh might be bruised if he didn't heal so quick. He had a hold of one of her hands, pinning it to the wall beside her head. Rather than strike, he merely looks at her. For a few long seconds, he just stands there and looks - not at her body, no. Just at her face - her eyes, mainly. Trying to see what he could see beyond them.
* Andromeda blinks as she recognised the man, just able to see his face in the darkness. She felt his strength and knew she couldn't win on that front, her kicking seemed to do nothing so she let her limbs be still as she resigned herself to her fate. When she gazed back into his eyes, through her pale orbs he would see layers of cold hatred, then Fear.. a torturous fear so great that it was seemed to encase her entire heart with ice and there was only a glimmer of warmth that seemed to break it's barrier. Everything else in her mind was rattled and indistinguishable, a crazed need to have order in her life a sense of control that she had for much of her life been deprived of.
‹Jesse Fforde› Although there's fear in the eyes of the violinist, there's also something else. It's the hatred that Jesse sees, which he latches onto. The coldness of her stare. There's something in it, something indistinguishable which he could admit to seeing in a few others. Some kind of spark that he'd never be able to explain, which had the gears shifting in his brain. The sudden decision, the spontaneous desire to again indulge in one of his more volatile addictions. He closes the distance, hand still over the girl's mouth. "It'll all be just fine, m'lady. I'll get you something better than Tonic and Lime," he whispers in her ear before his lips pull back, baring sharp and eager canines. He tugs her head to the side, opening her neck more to him before he strikes, teeth sliding easy, puncturing the tender skin over the vein. The hot blood spills over his tongue; it tastes like the best damned home-cooked meal he'd ever had, clean and sharp. As if even this girl's blood is as prim and proper as she is. He makes no sound as he takes her life from her, one mouthful at a time.
* Andromeda blinked and her mind race, barely even hearing his words over her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a sharp pain and then feeling like nothing she'd ever felt before, it was more than blood draining, it was her life. She didn't move though for a moment as her life flowed into the man's mouth, her mind becoming hazy but she the smallest amount of clarity managed a swift kick to Jesse's nuts. She really didn't expect it to do much but she could at least give the man something to remember her by when she heart finally slowed and stopped, every last breath slow and petrifying. 'It's finally..over..' were the last thoughts that crept through her mind as she blacked out entirely.
‹Jesse Fforde› Jesse is accustomed to draining his victims dry, and admittedly, he gets a bit too enthusiastic about this one, too. Even though he had decided that he wouldn't kill her, not entirely. There's a snarled grown that vibrates against the girl's neck as she manages to kick him where he'd prefer not to be kicked, ever - he remembers the feisty threats that Grey had posted on the Andras Crow to that fanatic, should she go anywhere near Jesse's jewels. He imagines what Grey'd do to this one, if she had witnessed the abuse. It's not long after that the body goes entirely limp in his grasp and he remembers. That's right. Carefully, he lays the girl out on the cement. He slaps her across the cheek. "C'mon, prove to me you're not that ******* weak," he growls. With canines still sharp, he tears a hole in his own skin, over the vein on his wrist. Bright, rich red blood seethes to the surface, and he roughly holds the wound to the girl's lips. If she dies, so be it. It wasn't meant to be. If she lives? Maybe she won't hate him. Maybe she will. He'll let her decide.
* Andromeda didn't feel the blood against her lips or the liquid drip down her throat, but the subconscious part of her brain made her swallow as it became quickly avoid of flesh blood. Slowly the cursed blood made its way into her system working through her to start its reanimation and giving her enough strength to start drinking deeply from the man's wrist, still clinging onto the very edge between life and death. The vampiric blood did it's work, slowly evolving this Feisty Violinist into a Cold blooded killer as her eyes snapped one once more, blazing white hot and predatory as she started to drain faster and faster; uncontrollably almost.
‹Jesse Fforde› A low rumble of satisfaction rolls in Jesse's throat as the girl opens her eyes and pulls the blood from his wrist. It was slow to begin with, and he'd almost given her up for dead. She'd not reacted to his slap, or his words. She'd not been on the edge of waking, not then. Not until her body realised exactly what it was that it was being given, and demanded more in order to instinctively claim the life back which had been taken. Jesse allows her to drink - to take as much as she needs. He even pushes a hand beneath her neck and shoulders to lift her, to help her sit up, to give her better access to the found that he has given to her. There's a wild gleam in his unnaturally blue eyes as he feels it. As the blood starts to work its magic, the bond is forged. Created by the swapping of blood; his life now given to her. His blood, giving her power and immortality. He takes a deep breath. He does not need it, but he holds onto it anyway. It's euphoric, this feeling. This is why he does it. This is why none of his progeny, bar Grey, had a choice in the matter. Because, just as Ishaq is addicted to his beloved drug, this is Jesse's drug. "That's it," he almost purrs. Even as he feels his head begin to spin. "Take your life back," he says with a wild smirk.
* Andromeda drinking slowed to a stop as full consciousness was she regained and she pulled herself away from the man's wrist and coughed, wiping at her mouth for the blood that still remained. Horrible, someone else's filthy blood upon her lips and she managed to gasp out despite her weakness. "What the hell have you done to me.." she hissed softly and tried to pull away from the man but failing, she couldn't figure out if it's because she wanted to stay next to him or just weakness. She turned her white hued eyes on the man and glanced over him, why did she now feel a connection to him?, something deep and far beyond anything she had felt with anyone. She blinks again and glanced around sitting up in almost a scramble. "and where's my violin?" she felt around in the darkness in an futile effort to find her prized possession.
‹Jesse Fforde› Somewhere along the way, the violin had fallen from the girl's grasp. The case isn't too far from them - it lays on its side just out of reach. As soon as his wrist is released, Jesse brings the gash to his lips - one lick of his own blood and the wounds heal over. They would have healed anyway, but best not to lose any more blood than he already has. He pushes himself to his feet and, in one stride, reaches down for the case, picking it up by the handle. "Calm down, precious. It's right here," he says. There's still that grin on his face. The bond is strong. It's there. It's vibrant and pulsing with new life, and though he has lost a lot of blood, he feels stronger, somehow. It's hard to explain, and he's only ever tried once. Maybe twice. He has created something - something independent and wilful, but his creation nonetheless. He turns and holds out his hand to his newest progeny. An act of good will, to help her up and onto her feet. "I've turned you into a vampire, m'lady. Jesse Fforde is my name. And I think you should come home with me," he says, without a hint of sarcasm, with honesty that he assumes she'll no doubt laugh at.
FIRE and BLOOD