Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

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Cordelia
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Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

Post by Cordelia »

"Final checklist. Hair?" Cordelia glanced in the mirror. Caramel brown eyes stared back, even as she studied her straightened black locks, in a half-ponytail so that it was out of her face. "Check." Hands smoothed down her red-clad figure, smoothing down the fabric against her skin. "Dress, check. Necklace," one hand found the pendant at the V of the dress's collar, "check. Earrings, bangles, shoes - where the hell did I put my shoes?"

She moved to rifle through the box behind her, full of shoes. Beige flats, black tennis shoes, white Mary-Janes, all landed on the bed to the right, before finally pulling out a pair of black suede peeptoe platform stilettos with jewel-encrusted heels and a cream sole. "There we go." She set the shoes on the floor in front of her, stepping into them and turning back to the mirror. Her height skyrocketed from merely five feet, ten inches, to six feet, two and a half inches, just by adding the shoes. "Check. Bag," she picked up the faux croc heart-shaped bag, slinging it over her head to rest across her torso.

"Ready to go," she sighed, turning to the door and, with a quick confirmation that her wallet, key, cell phone, and handgun were all in place in the bag (her new landlords didn't exactly know about the gun), she made her way onto the landing.

"Where are you going dressed like that?"

Her new landlord, Mr. Wilson, was just emerging from the bedroom he and his wife shared. A pair of empty-nesters, they'd decided to rent out their daughter's bedroom after she got into some Ivy League school.

"Just out," Cordelia replied. "I'll be back by morning." Not that you're my father or anything, since the man's been dead since before I was born. But her smile was genuine.

"Be careful," Mr. Wilson insisted. "This city...it's not the best place at night."

"I'll be fine, Mr. Wilson."

Taking a deep breath, Cordelia made her way down the stairs slowly, in a practiced step. Within moments, she was out the front door and walking along the sidewalk, east to south, until she was at the door of the Necropolis. The gothic nightclub had been enticing her since her initial arrival in town three weeks before. Knowing that something so unique to her was so close, so near, she couldn't help it.

With a confident strut, Cordelia made her way up to the door, flashing her ID to the bouncer, showing the contents of her bag, and slipping inside with a smile on her deep red lips, darker than her dress. Broken hearts on her ears, a heart at her hip, a musical heart around her neck - she looked more suited to Valentine's Day than the day before St. Patrick's. A spot of red in a sea of Irish green. She made her way straight to the bar, leaning one hand on the counter and tapping it with her fingertips, waiting for the bartender, who was busy down the line.

"Feels like a fun night," she purred to herself.
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Azraeth
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Re: Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

Post by Azraeth »

Silence stretched for miles in all directions. Was there a word for that? Like when fog rolled in so thick, that a person couldn't see more than a couple of inches in front of them, couldn't even see their own hands held in front of their faces, but with sound. The field of it dampened everything, and made the air seem as thick as jelly. The Shadow Realm was a dark place, but that wasn't frightening. Everything that was visible, was painted in shades of grey, but that wasn't scary. There was this gnawing feeling of depression that grew stronger with every step, making the soul numb and mind heavy; but that wasn't terrifying. The absolute absence of sound could be as unnerving as the sense, that the beings trapped inside of the dark place were little more than bags, split open along the bottom, and emptying their contents onto the floor.

What was that about not crying over spilled milk?

Az enjoyed the peace of it, the way that a chill began in what should have been his chest (for lack of more descriptive spiritual anatomy) and tried to eat its way to his heart. He would stay in the Fade only long enough to let the spectral cold almost wrap its fingers around him, meditating, lost in the sea of pale immitation. Let there be no misconception, he didn't enjoy the Shadow Realm per se, he enjoyed the ability to survive it, and have it leaving him not weaker, but stronger of resolve. What doesn't kill you, will probably get you the second time. Or something like that. He emerged from it as if he were stepping out of a fadeportal, stepping out of that shadowy place into the Dragomir Temple, which was the location from which he had entered the Fade.

Nobody was there, save for a collection of spirits. The dead always congregated around the temple, which had once been a church. Underneath were catacombs littered with the corpses of plague victims, the losers of battles and duels, and wars. For years, bodies had been stuffed under the stone. They crowded around him like the poor seeking alms from the wealthy, but he brushed right past them, towards the large double doors to exit out onto the steps. Statues watched over him as he disappeared into the night, moving across the street towards another type of Gothic building. Less to do with architecture, and more to do with a sub-culture.

The Necropolis Nightclub was always active in one form or another, because it catered to both humans and vampires. Some were in the 'know', and could request the services of blood dolls. Some were just there to have a good time. Az had once been staff there, back when Amaranthia had been in charge. Of course, that had ended, as was often the case with vampires, in a bloody mess. She had been killed on the orders of Az's sire, Nikolae. The whole thing had strained the relationship. Not that it was Amaranthia's fault. Az had just stopped being part of things, until his presence wasn't expected anymore. And only then had he begun to go back. He silently watched over the establishment. Good hunting ground, but it was more than that.

He had a regular seat, but Azraeth decided not to take it. He'd opted to wear a slate gray turtleneck with a leather jacket in a shade of dark walnut, hints of rosewood to accentuate the tone. His pants were fitted cordrouy in a muted green that honestly looked closer to gray, and would have been completely indiscernible if not for the top. His boots were made from that same leather as his jacket, and had a pointed toe with brass holes which laces looped through. The hem of his pants covered them to the ankle.

He didn't exactly fit in with the whole goth feel, but he also didn't care. Everyone had opted to wear green anyway. Like some huge humorous breach of the fourth wall.

He ambled his way to the bar, looking for someone who was getting drunk. Not that he got anything out of it, from the blood. It was just easier to dismiss being fed on, if you were shitfaced, he supposed.
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Re: Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

Post by Cordelia »

‹Cordelia› She caught the bartender's attention, quietly ordering a virgin mojito, trying not to let the other patrons know she wasn't planning on being drunk. She shook her thick, straightened hair out slightly, giving it a slightly tousled look, before turning away from the bar and watching the dance floor.

‹Azraeth› In the sea of green, there was one person who didn't seem to blend in with the rest. If anything, it seemed as if she had deliberately avoided getting into the spirit of the holiday. Of course. The spirit of the St. Patrick's day seemed to usually involve a lot of getting drunk, and not much else. "You know, Valentine was last month." He said with a smile as he leaned closer. A pair of fingers tapped on the bar. The man serving up drinks recognized him and would, in his own time, slide some bourbon Az's way. He didn't drink. Couldn't. But he liked to maintain a certain illusion in public. Take away a little bit of evidence that he was a vampire, blend in with the crowd.

‹Cordelia› Laughing softly, Cordy looked at the male who had approached, then at the bourbon in front of him. She shook her head slightly. "I know. I just felt like wearing my best dress," she commented, sipping from the virgin drink that had been passed her way. Another man, dressed head to toe in garish green, a suit similar to Harry and Lloyd's, complete with top hat, stared at her as he drank his whiskey. Cordy's caramel eyes never left the male with the bourbon, though.


‹Azraeth› Quick to laugh. Azraeth appreciated that in a person, though he was frequently considered too serious by those close to him. A misconception, in truth. He was serious when the matter was serious, but he could loosen up. Honestly. The man grinned faintly in response, regardless, even as he eyed the dress once more to see if he could place the brand. You could tell a lot about a person based on what they wore, or so a number of sayings went. "Your best dress? Are you looking to impress someone in particular then?" He asked politely, lifting his glass. Rather than sipping, he held it in one hand, the other drawn close so he could lightly tap on the rim.

‹Cordelia› Shaking her head again, the brunette closed her eyes and leaned back against the counter. The dress wasn't anything special, really - it was the cut of it, the way it fit her body, that made it her best. In her shopping experiences, she'd never found anything to match it. "Just wanted to christen the city to my presence," she sighed. Maybe that was giving too much away, but truly, she didn't mind. If things went south, she had her handgun.

‹Azraeth› "New to town then?" He asked as he assessed the woman quietly. He rarely had to hunt. Most vampires didn't have to. Not really. With options like drinking from blood packs or using powers. Well. The danger of drawing attention to one's self was just pointless in most cases. Except vampires were predators. At least Az thought they were, and that was enough to make the powers and the blood bags boring. He liked a little bit of a challenge. "Careful outside. The crime rate here is ridiculous." He said, with the same tone of voice one might have used to talk about the weather. No point in denying it.

‹Cordelia› "I'll keep that in mind," she replied, patting her bag gently, as if to make sure it was still there. "I've been in the area for a couple weeks, mostly unpacking. Didn't have time for a night out." She took another sip of her virgin mojito. "But, I am from San Francisco. I'm used to a pretty high crime rate. Ever been to Oakland?"

‹Azraeth› His gaze dropped briefly to where the woman's hand patted a bag. Was there something in there that made her think of criminal activity? Pepper spray? Or was she a thief herself? She certainly looked the part of the femme fatale. Right out of Hollywood, with the nice clothes, svelte frame, and beauty. "No. I've never been out of Canada, actually. Spent most of my life in Vancouver." He admitted, his eyes lifting when he caught sight of another man approaching. "I hear the States are trying to fix their healthcare...thing." He said.

‹Cordelia› A delicate smile curled her lips as she thought about how damned glad she was to be out of the States, especially with the current presidential mess. She lifted her hand from her bag, smoothing her hair slightly as she took another delicate sip from her beverage. "Yeah, they're trying. I just hope things work out." Then, she turned and beamed at him. "What's it like, having lived in Canada your whole life? Is the country really more sane than the States?"

‹Azraeth› His shoulders lifted into a shrug. He wasn't great with current politics. Ask him about the Athenian republic and he would have had an opinion, but talking about things in the modern day was a little bit too real. From the outside, what was going on in the States sounded almost like a bad joke. But he wasn't one to judge. Not when the Prime Minister had been forced to appoint special powers to the Mayor of Harper Rock. That was how shitty things were in the city. He didn't wan to offend. "I think we're just more laid back." He replied honestly. Maybe it was the heat in the U.S...He chuckled at the thought and realized he was laughing at nothing. He was saved from having to explain himself when the man who had been approaching decided to add himself to the conversation, asking Cordelia what she was drinking.

‹Cordelia› Still smiling at Azraeth, she commented, "I would agree with that," before being interrupted by the other stranger, asking what she was drinking. A hard look gleamed in her eyes, as she inclined her head to one side. "Excuse me a moment," she told Azraeth, before turning to face the intruder on their conversation. Her expression slipped from pleasant to irritated in a split second. She could smell Irish whiskey on his breath. "I'm sorry, I don't believe you were part of this conversation," she said simply, her voice retaining politeness. "I'm not here to get drunk. I'm here because it's the first club I saw on arrival in town. Now, go back to your whiskey, please."

‹Azraeth› Apparently the femme fatale assessment wasn't entirely all that far off. Or at the very least, the woman wasn't afraid to speak her mind when faced with masculine ignorance. Az attempted to stifle a chuckle as he lifted his bourbon to his lips. He didn't actually drink any of it, but he needed to cover the smile on his lips. The perspiring glass hit the counter a second later, sloshing around as he pushed it away. And that was when the guy in green decided he was going to try and take it a step further. Persistence and alcohol didn't mix. Azraeth politely cleared his throat. "I believe the lady asked you to go. Do so." He said voice like velvet and steel. The man wandered away, which left the pair alone again. "Sorry for that, the Necropolis normally doesn't have such..." He trailed off.

‹Cordelia› Smoothing her hair and turning towards the bar, one hand slapped the surface as she exhaled sharply. "I really hate guys like that," she commented, before lifting the virgin mojito to her lips and taking a larger drink than before, one of the mint leaves momentarily attaching to her lips. Then she looked back at the man she'd been talking to, and smiled, as she set the drink back down. "That's an uncommon occurance here? Are you a regular?" she inquired. Caramel eyes studied him. He didn't look the Gothic type, but then he could be going casual for the night.

‹Azraeth› "I grew up with one like that." He commented as his weight shifted from one leg to another. His twin brother actually, had been the stereotypical alpha male with the ambition, athleticism, etc. Not that they looked much like twins anymore. That felt like another life, actually. Like the two of them could have been strangers. That was the problem with being a vampire maybe. "You could say that. I used to work here, so I pop in from time to time for a drink." He said before he finally offered a hand, letting an arm stretch between them. "Azraeth, by the way. Azraeth Dragomir."

‹Cordelia› Accepting the hand and giving a polite shake, she grinned. "I'm sorry you had to grow up with that," she commented. "Cordelia Woods. Pleasure to meet you, Azraeth." She felt it would be too much if she indulged in the venting she found herself wanting to. About how whiskey brought out the absolute worst in so many people. About her mother, and the nightmare her childhood had been. And her lack of a father. Encounters like that really got her riled up about the things she'd missed. "Why don't you work here anymore? It seems like a great place to work."

‹Azraeth› Cordelia Woods. The name said sophistication, or at least it did in that moment. Maybe it was just the way she presented herself. Azraeth found a woman who could hold her own against the personality of a man without demurring, a fascinating creature. Maybe it had something to do with his own time spent as a woman. Independence. Things had been different then. Even in the modern day, guys assumed a girl needed help, or generally needed them. "Personal things. An ex." He decided, which was at least half true. His hand drew away and he found himself leaning against the bar languidly. "Though tonight isn't about me, it's your debut." He pointed out.

‹Cordelia› As she finished off her mojito, she nodded slightly, setting the thin glass down and tucking a stray strand behind her left ear. She wasn't going to pry. Honeyed eyes glanced around the room once again, momentarily locking on the door to the Dungeon, before refocusing on Azraeth. "True enough, I suppose," she replied, "after all, I am the one new in the area." Her smile was bright, as she flagged the bartender down for a second virgin mojito. When it arrived, she simply rested her hand around it. She hadn't bothered to glance at his glass, but now she did, and breathed a sigh. "Just for looks?" she guessed, judging by how full the glass was.
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Azraeth
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Re: Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

Post by Azraeth »

‹Azraeth› He glanced briefly back to his own drink, which he had pushed away a moment before. "Observant." He said with a good-natured smile. "I'm not much of a drinker myself. Lightweight, I guess you could say." The lie was easy enough to tell. However if his newfound friend, Cordelia, was going to be introduced to Harper Rock, he wanted it done in style. He offered an arm. "Why don't I escort you downstairs." He offered.

‹Cordelia› "Understandable, as I've been standing here drinking a virgin cocktail," she said. Then, picking up her glass and taking a sip, she shook herself before accepting his arm. "What's downstairs?" she inquired. She wanted to know what she was getting into. No matter what happened, though - she felt secure, as long as her purse was at her hip, the gun inside a comforting weight.

‹Azraeth› "The Dungeon." He said blandly. And then realized, a second later, that the words might have been taken as ominous. His head turned enough so he could peer briefly towards her, either into her eyes, or where they would have been, should her own gaze have moved elsewhere. "It's not what it sounds like. It's like a whole other club, more exclusive, you might say." And so they arrived at the door leading down, and he yanked it open for her. The Dungeon itself really was like a private lounge. With a stage. And there was a place to perform rituals as well, Az had used it at one point.

‹Cordelia› She found her eyes locking with his momentarily, before looking towards the door, and then the stairs, as she took them carefully. Stilettos weren't perhaps the easiest thing to navigate stairs in. She leaned on his arm a little heavily occasionally, when she felt like she might be losing her balance, but otherwise kept her grip loose, casual. She stared at the staging area, before her eyes were drawn to the ritual area. "You're not planning on a sacrifice, are you?" she joked.

‹Azraeth› "That's Tuesdays." He quipped. Though intended to be funny, the truth of the matter was that Az did sacrifice things occasionally, when he had to. That was what it meant to be a ritualist, to give into the whims of the semideus in hopes they might grant one's own desires. Give and take. But human sacrifice took things a bit too far for him. At least for the moment. As promised, the Dungeon was more private, though there were some people there. Vampires who were being entertained by blood dolls. Or each other. Of course, with the gothic feel, it wasn't that out of the ordinary. So he began towards the stage with her. "Don't let anything you see frighten you, by the way. These guys smell fear." He whispered to her quietly.

‹Cordelia› With a chuckle, Cordelia followed him to the stage, her free hand smoothing the side of her dress a little bit. "What do you mean, they smell fear?" she asked in the same quiet tone, caramel eyes studying a pair of the Dungeon's patrons for a moment before glancing back towards the stage. She felt just a touch more out of place in her predominantly bright red ensemble, even though she partially matched the club's motif. But she refused to let it get to her.

‹Azraeth› Hopefully the red of the woman's dress wouldn't draw attention to her, like tauros looking to spear a matador's cloak. "Figure of speech." he said as he took the mic from the middle of the stage. Nobody was playing, so it wasn't like he was being rude. Not really. "Good evening, ladies and gents. We have a lovely new lady here on the stage with me. Just got to Harper Rock. Cordelia Woods. Cordie, why don't you tell us a little about yourself." He said before he pulled the mic fully off of its stand, which had been tipped towards him, so he could hand her the device.

‹Cordelia› Cordelia's initial reaction was to laugh. All of a sudden, she was the center of attention. Stared at. Gawked at. Her cheeks burned pink as she accepted the microphone with one hand, the other fidgeting with her dress, her hair. "Um...I'm twenty-four, grew up in San Francisco. I'm an only child. Uh.." She laughed nervously, biting her lip a little. "My ex-boyfriend taught me how to shoot, and my mother taught me that daily drinking ruins your life, by example."

‹Azraeth› Of course, the reason Az had put her at the center of attention had been to see how she did under a little bit of pressure, but she was legitimately sharing a few things. Alcoholic mother? His own would never have touched the stuff, but her vices had been of a different kind. Religious zealot. He waited until she was done, and then swept in with a smile, taking the microphone once more. "Thank you, Cordelia. Per Harper Rock tradition, I now owe you a dance or a drink. Your choice." He said in even tones whilst putting the device back on its stand. For what it was worth, the people in the Dungeon hadn't paid all that much attention, too engrossed in their own activities. But getting them out of their little bubbles hadn't been the object of the little game.

‹Cordelia› Grinning, Cordelia turned to face Azraeth once again, giving a slight sort of curtsy, inclining her head. "A dance sounds particularly lovely," she commented, taking a few steps back in the direction they'd ascended onto the stage. The heels of her shoes glinted and shone, the gold she wore doing the same, as she swayed her hips. Her eyes found one of the pairs in their own bubbles, just in time to catch a glint of fang from one before the other was bitten. It didn't bother her. She'd seen vampire movies far too many times to count. I wonder where they got their fangs, she thought idly.

‹Azraeth› The descent off of the stage went faster than the trudge up onto it, maybe because the hard part was done. That was the thing about offering yourself up to a crowd. Once you were the center of attention, you could handle people doing their own thing, looking away, leaving you to get on with your life. That was where Az lived, the place after the big reveal, where he got to do what he wanted. So he swept her off the last step to draw the woman towards the middle of the Dungeon. Of course there was no music playing, the one problem with nobody on the stage. But he was happy to make something up, even if they didn't look at all like they dressed in the same pay grade. "What time do you have to be getting home?"

‹Cordelia› "I'm no Cinderella," she said softly. "I'm a grown woman, and I make my own curfews. Benefit of being out of my mother's reach." She extended her hand to him, palm-up, and took on a better posture than she already had. Shoulders back, head held high, one foot slightly in front of the other. A dancer's position. Or at least, what she thought one was. "I should probably mention that the last time I danced was at my friend's wedding a year ago."

‹Azraeth› "I wouldn't suggest staying out on the streets for too long after dark." He commented as the woman straightened, when he swung around, nearly chest to chest with her. One arm slid to her hip, the other hand found hers. That looked about right. "I never learned how to dance properly. I just move around and hope nobody calls me out on it." He replied honestly, and then showed enough ivory to have made an elephant jealous. Then he began to draw her across the floor. No. He didn't exactly have skill, but he certainly had conviction.

‹Cordelia› "The criminal activity again?" she asked, stepping in time, following his movements with a touch of classy gracefulness. "Dance is a great art. It's something I've been wanting to learn properly, which is part of why I took you up on the offer." Steps clicking faintly on the floor, smile never fully leaving her features.

‹Azraeth› "Something like that." He answered noncommittally. The truth of the matter was much darker a problem than some petty crime. Of course, Az was smart enough not to reveal the nature of vampires to someone he barely knew, but he had no doubt eventually Cordelia would figure it out for herself. With the poorly contained Quarantine Zone, the Mausoleum, and people getting bitten daily. Well. It was a shock the entire world didn't know about their kind. But that was another matter. "Well I'm not sure you're going to actually learn anything from me except a little wild flailing, but I have a degree in Anthropology if you're ever interested in ancient cultures." he commented as the pair of them moved across the floor with broad motions.

‹Cordelia› "Anthropology, eh?" Cordy smiled at him, sweeping one foot over the floor. "I'll let you know if I have any questions."

‹Azraeth› Pretty soon, Az was pretty sure, he was going to end up tripping and falling face first into a wall. Reason enough for him to draw them to a stop. His chest heaved, though he didn't need to breathe. After years as a vampire, little details like that came naturally. "And now what, Lady Cordelia?" He asked his head cocking to one side. "Where shall we take your personal débutante ball?"

‹Cordelia› Laughing heartily, Cordelia took a step back, placing one hand over her abdomen as she caught her breath. "Now, I need something to drink," she said, glancing around, looking for the bar. "Water sounds like a really good option."
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Re: Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

Post by Azraeth »

‹Azraeth› The woman wanted water, and Az was happy to oblige. He found that many vampires treated feeding like a chore. They would rely upon blood packs or magic to replenish the 'stocks', or if they did hunt, it was a brief and violent thing. Az never really forgot that he was a predatory creature, but to him, there was more nuance and finesse. No, he didn't 'hunt' every day, but when he did, he made sure to truly enjoy it. He was the woman's servant for the moment, because eventually he knew she would be his food. So he guided her towards the bar. "You'll have to tell me. Why is it you don't drink, Cordelia Woods?"

‹Cordelia› "My mother, plain and simple," Cordelia replied, hand resting against her bag again as she followed his direction to the bar. She perceived it as gentlemanly behavior. She had no inclination whatsoever what he had in mind. If anything, she thought he was a good person hidden in the jungle-like mess of strange and obsessive men. "She manages a fast-food restaurant, and still manages to find the time to drink herself into a stupor every night. When I was little, I swore I'd never be like her, and they say the tendency for alcoholism runs in the family. So I'm paranoid."

‹Azraeth› "Fair enough." He said as the two of them made their way across the club. Az was able to enjoy the dark atmosphere, despite the brightness of the holiday. He never had been one for Western revelry though. "I think the last generation must have had something very wrong with it. That or people all eventually turn out a little crazy as they get older, have kids." He said by the time they had arrived, and he was motioning for her to take a seat, insistent that she slide into one before him. Of course he tapped the bar lightly, mouthing the word 'water' to the bartend. "But that's the good thing about the last generation. We can learn from their many mistakes."

‹Cordelia› "Mistakes, yes, my mother has made many. Bad boyfriends, bad choices with substances. She never talked about my father unless she was drunk, hid all of the pictures of him," she said, before feeling like she'd said far too much as the bartender slid a glass of water to her. "Thank you," she mouthed softly, before lifting the glass to her lips and taking a sip of the cool, crisp liquid. Breathing a sigh, she rested her hand over the glass as she turned to face Azraeth. "How about you? I've definitely overshared. Feel like share and share alike?"

‹Azraeth› For the most part, Azraeth was an open book about his human life. Even about his life as a vampire. He was just conscious about what he shared and in what company, but he was a man with surprisingly few secrets. He finally lifted a hand to draw his sunglasses off, as if he hadn't even noticed them really, despite having been inside. His eyes were the classic Dragomir variety, with serpentine slits and a reptilian appearance that made them devoid of whites, entirely a gradient of blue. He smiled then as his gaze locked with hers, shades folded. "Well I grew up in an exceptionally religious home. Turns out several of my life choices weren't to my parents' standards. I guess the'd say I was the one who made mistakes. Until I broke off contact with them." A shrug.

‹Cordelia› The brunette noticed his eyes, but did not comment, thinking it perhaps a trick of the light that the color filled so much of his eye. She looked down at her hand, clutching her bag as she tended to do in a public situation where creeps could approach her, and breathed a sigh. "My father died before I was born," she said quietly. "He never even got the chance to hold me. My mother raised me alone. In that, she did something right. I think I turned out okay, at least." She released her bag, letting it rest across her body as she lifted that hand to her hair, tucking the strands behind her ear. With her other hand, she lifted her water glass, taking another, shorter sip.

‹Azraeth› "That's got to be rough, no father in the picture. My dad always went along with whatever my mother said. She was very much the one who wore 'the pants' if you get my drift. Always had to be in control." He chuckled softly, a memory nagging at his mind, surfacing and then dipping back into his skull. Maybe he just couldn't hold onto grudges against them anymore. "Have you ever wanted to learn more about him, see if he had family? Or was that never an option?" He asked, hip coming to rest against a seat, his fingers laying against a bartop. He wanted to tell her she had turned out alright, but that probably would have just seemed like false assurance. They didn't know each other well enough for his opinion to matter all that much.

‹Cordelia› "It was rough, especially once my mother started the boyfriend circus. She'd stay with them maybe a month, two at most, before dumping them for the next hottie she saw," she laughed softly. "I got lucky, I figure, because they almost always left after she passed out, unless they'd passed out first. And hiding her liquor from her didn't work, because she knew the house. It had been her parents', before they moved to Florida. She grew up there." She took a large gulp of water, sighing as she set it aside. "To answer your question, it was never an option because that side of my family hated her."

‹Azraeth› "Sounds like she was a train wreck." He mused quietly, contemplatively. It was moments like that, the conversation with Cordelia, that he realized his own childhood hadn't been all that bad. He hadn't been happy, but at least it hadn't been outright toxic. At least his own mother had, had a sense of right and wrong. Maybe not a very good one, but that was beside the point. "Well, that's the past, I guess. You're on your own now, in a new city with new opportunities." He said with a smile that showed off a little too much in the way of ivory. His teeth naturally looked just a smidge too big for his head. "The night has only just begun and you've already made a new friend. Pretty stellar progress if you ask me."

‹Cordelia› With a nod of her head, she smiled. "All very true. If we were anyone else, I'd say we should celebrate our new friendship with a drink. However, will a handshake do?" she asked, extending her hand to him, wiggling her fingers ever so slightly.

‹Azraeth› A handshake? "That seems very old fashioned." He pointed out, though there was no malice in it, his hand darting out to take hers, giving a squeeze. His grip was cool to the touch, but his flesh smooth. He clearly wasn't one for a ton of physical labor, though that might have been evident based on the slim lines of his suit. "If you would like, I'd be happy to show you some of the architectural features of the city. For example, there's a Gothic church close to here, where I work." He offered.


‹Cordelia› "Architecture? Sounds delightful," she said softly, draining the glass and setting it on the bar, before digging into her bag for her wallet and riffling through her cash for the money for her drinks.

‹Azraeth› When Cordelia laid out some money, Az rested his hand over it, giving a polite shake of his head. "I can't have you paying for your own drinks at your first real night out in Harper Rock. Let me add it to my tab." He offered before once again cocking his elbow so she could grab his arm at her desire.

‹Cordelia› "Oh, my god, you are fantastic," she said, tucking her cash back into her wallet, and into her bag, as she took his arm, standing again and moving toward the door with him.

‹Azraeth› "Hardly fantastic. I will accept awesome though, if you're feeling generous." He said glancing sidelong, that grin growing slowly while he escorted Cordelia towards the door and out into the chill night air. It was getting a little warmer with each passing day but still cold. Dark out, the city lights obscured the stars and all one could see was a section of the moon. The Temple was just a couple of blocks away, so Az began towards the intersection, not realizing the duo had drawn some attention.


‹Cordelia› The brunette followed along, looking around with curious eyes before they reached the intersection. Behind them followed a man in a lot of green - the tuxedo creep from earlier. He had one hand in his pocket, eyes latched onto the lady in red, as she turned to her walking companion and said, "How old is the city? I didn't do much research before moving."

‹Azraeth› "You know that's an interesting to-." He realized it really wasn't an interesting topic in most cases. But Az happened to love the acquisition of knowledge. The term 'nerd' had been thrown around a lot when he was a kid. "There are several stories about that. It was founded a few hundred years ago though." He said. He was ignoring the guy following them because he didn't really think anything of it. Until he heard another set of foot steps. And another. He half turned to catch a look, and suddenly felt searing pain in his shoulder as a bullet ripped through him, splattering blood onto the street.

‹Cordelia› Azraeth turned to look back, and there was a familiar sound. Automatically reacting, Cordy's hand dove into her bag, extracting her Glock and raising it to turn and face the trio of men. "You fucked with the wrong girl today," she said, even as other people took notice - a couple of people from the club, one with his cell phone out. She didn't pay attention to them as she let off a shot. It was like target practice, hitting the guy on the left in the shoulder. "Want more? Stick around. I'm a bit of a crackshot."

‹Azraeth› Az was normally more than happy to defend himself, but with recording devices in play, there wasn't a whole lot that he could do. Too much strength? Vampire. Use of powers? Vampire. It was a dangerous game, and not one that he intended to play, especially when he could heal the damage later. However, it didn't seem he had to kick *** because Cordelia immediately had a gun in hand. The guy with the gun dropped it when a bullet hit him like a train. Az gripped his own wound, squeezing down. It seemed the thugs were less of the mind to start **** with a lady who had a firearm. Azraeth stepped closer so he could make his scowl evident. "**** off." He called to the men from the club, though whether they would leave or not was a different story.

‹Cordelia› There was steel in her eyes as she took a clicking step towards the thugs, who seemed to shocked to move. She noted that the one with the gun had dropped his weapon, however she did not lower hers. "You listen to me, boys, and you listen good. You don't go ******* with random chicks at the bar, and you especially don't follow them out. Not only is that rude and disrespectful, but it's also a little something called harrassment, and where I come from, that's against the law. So go cry in a hole and think about what you've done." The thugs looked at each other, and, forgetting the weapon they dropped to the ground, turned tail and ran. Cordelia lowered the weapon, turning back to Azraeth. "You're hit. We should get you to a hospital."
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Re: Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

Post by Cordelia »

‹Azraeth› Az was pretty good at remembering faces, and he took a few seconds to dedicate the features of the various men to his memory on the off chance he came across them in the future and decided to let them know how he really felt about being shot. Drunken fools. When Cordelia turned back to him, he gave a shake of his head. "Flesh wound." He said, without having bothered to assess it. "Looks far worse than it really is." That, and the lovely folks at the hospital didn't need to see his skin stitching itself back together. "I have a first aid kit at the Temple though." He said before pulling away a blood covered hand from his shoulder, to motion towards the street once more. He needed to get out of public as soon as possible. He normally would have used his tome to disappear, or teleported, but that would have been too conspicuous with someone's eyes on him.

‹Cordelia› Looking over at the couple, standing shocked while one had caught the latter half of the encounter on his cell phone, she gave a nod as she slipped her weapon back into her bag, clicking the safety back on. "If you say so," she said lightly, one hand straightening out her hair. "Guaranteed that one guy had more than just a flesh wound, courtesy of me. I'm probably going to be questioned if Mr. Cell Phone Video posts that online." She looked down at her red dress, before starting towards the temple he mentioned. "Do you live there or something? An old Gothic church is an odd place to live.."

‹Azraeth› "Maybe." He said as he waited for traffic to clear enough for them to get across the street. "Like I mentioned before. Crime rate here is pretty vulgar, so the cops might question you, but they also might not even care. Buried under bigger issues." He admitted before the lights from passing cars faded enough for him to begin towards the temple, motioning for her to come along with him. He left a trail of blood on the ground behind him, little spots of it. Of course they were nearly invisible on the asphalt.

‹Cordelia› The crime rate was going to work in her favor for once. Sure, this had been a self-defense situation, but the video probably started after the first guy raised his weapon. "Hopefully it's the latter of the two, even though that shows incompetence in the legal system," she scoffed, looking both ways before following after him, not noticing the blood on the ground, more focused on their destination. "But you didn't answer my other question. Do you live where we're going?"

‹Azraeth› "You said it, not me." He murmured. Though it was true. Az had very little faith in the legal system in Harper Rock. But then, he had that very tiny spark of anarchy in his blood, which seemed to come with being a Worthington, and he never could quite grasp the idea of administrative or enforcement authorities, who couldn't also be respected. "Either way, I wouldn't be too worried. If need be, I can always testify on your behalf." He said with a smile finally returning. The gunshot had thrown him off, but he felt that calm confidence sliding back around him like a veil. "No...it's more like a family owned thing, also open to public. We bought a church, and basically use it to bolster tourism. Lots of history there. I guess you might consider it a family business?" He mentioned when they finally began to approach the looming building.

‹Cordelia› "Wow. Okay, you own this?" She stared up at the building, honeyed eyes skimming the architecture, mouth gaping open. "This place is fantastic. Fabulous, even." Her eyes returned to Azraeth, a smile curling her lips. "I can come inside, then?" She had a little bit of a childish expression of giddiness.

‹Azraeth› "Sort of. The building is in my brother, Nikolae's name." Nikolae, of course, wasn't really his brother, but the two of them could pass as siblings, so Az tended to use that description when talking to mortals, who were unaware of vampires. The corner of his mouth tugged even more firmly when he realized she was smiling and he gestured towards the cathedral. "It's just old." He replied before making his way up stone steps towards large, wooden double doors. "Of course, of course. Everything inside is antique, but carefully maintained. We wanted to keep the feel, atmosphere, and age of the temple intact."

‹Cordelia› "That's incredible. How long has it been in your family?" she said as she followed him up the steps to the entrance. She'd never been anywhere (manmade, at least) that looked quite like this. The only thing comparable was a high school trip to the Winchester Mystery House, and even that was its own experience. Another unique place on her list. "I'm not even going to touch anything. I promise."

‹Azraeth› How long? Az struggled to remember that, actually. "It has to be close to five years now. Definitely four. I know, not exactly the longest history, but we love it." He said even as he made his way inside. The floor was stonework, and at the very end of the large chamber which made up the front, there was an altar. As usual, the dead clung to the Temple, spirits wandering around as if they were still alive. The place nearly buzzed with supernatural energies. Haunted. "You can touch what you like. Most of it isn't breakable." He said as he made his way towards the altar, rifling around behind it before he brought out a first aid kit and began to strip off his coat and shirt.

‹Cordelia› Following him, Cordelia was lost in looking around. She barely acknowledged that he'd spoken as she stared, taking swivelling steps down the center aisle to take in everything as if it would change. She didn't notice the spirits, the aura of the place - she was a bit lost in the architecture. "This place is fantastic." She'd said the same word three times so far in the evening. "What kind of church is it? Aside from Gothic, of -" She stopped speaking as she caught sight of the altar table, tilting her head at the sight of it. As if entranced, she moved towards the altar, trailing her fingers over the table, whispering, "Beautiful."

‹Azraeth› His shirt was off, which revealed pale flesh and etched muscle. Azraeth never would have won awards for his body, but he was lean and firm, and there was enough of a 'v' shape to his chest that he wasn't quite the dinky nerd boy he'd always been before having been turned. He used some antiseptic wipes to clean up blood on his arm. The wound was still there, thankfully, which meant he didn't have to go to a lot of effort to hide it from Cordelia. "It was originally Catholic I believe. These days, when it is used, it's more private than that. Our family occasionally sacrifices virgins." He said casually as he reached for a bandage large enough to place over the bullet holes.

‹Cordelia› A bubbling laugh escaped her as she lifted her eyes from the table finally to look at him. She took notice of his appearance idly - as if filing the information away - but focused on the wound as she picked up a bandage and handed it to him. "I really hope you're kidding," she said, her facial expression falling sort of flat. "If that's why you brought me here, you'd be sorely disappointed in your sacrifice failing."

‹Azraeth› He chuckled softly as he took the bandage from Cordelia, carefully laying it into place, double checking it was covered. "Of course, I'm kidding." Mostly. He did occasionally use the altar for sacrifice, but virgins were hard to come by, and human sacrifice was overrated. And that was when he realized something. His attention flicked right back to Cordelia. "Tell me, have you ever wanted to become part of something bigger? Like really throw yourself into a whole new world?"

‹Cordelia› "Good, then," she sighed, as she looked around the temple again, taking in the sights of it. Then he asked her that question. "Well, I did move to an entirely new country with no friends or relatives to support me here."

‹Azraeth› And there it was again, that nagging feeling at the back of his mind. No friends and family. Would anyone miss her if she disappeared? "Well without sounding too culty, my family accepts new members. Not like...as wives or sister wives or anything." He wasn't explaining things very well. So he cast his gaze towards the door as if to see if anyone was coming in. "What if I told you, we could be your family?"

‹Cordelia› The brunette's eyes cast downward to the stone floor suddenly, as she bit her lip. "Family?" She looked back up at him. "I've never really had a family, it was always me, my friends, and my books. Then there was Alex. He taught me to shoot. Other than that..." She breathed a sigh. "I've been alone for years."

‹Azraeth› A girl and her books. Maybe that was what it was. Az saw some of himself in the woman. He had been on his own for along time. Alone, but not lonely, fine distinction there. He understood what it was to be a solitary and independent creature, who also felt the need to be part of something. Anything really. He sighed himself, weighing options for a moment. "If I show you something, you can't freak out." He said, his head finally lifting so he could lock his gaze right onto hers.

‹Cordelia› "I swear I won't. I'm not the run-screaming kind of girl, in case you didn't notice that outside," she said, her tone dipped in a hint of sarcasm as honey eyes met blue. "Your eyes are fascinating, by the way, where'd you get the contacts?"

‹Azraeth› "They aren't contacts." He answered, even as he pulled his bandages off, giving them a toss to one side before he hopped up onto the altar, seated with legs dangling, body leaning closer towards Cordelia so she could catch sight of the wound. Mystical energies began to move through him then, and in a matter of just a couple of seconds, the hole was completely closed, not even scar tissue left in its wake.

‹Cordelia› Furrowing her brows, Cordelia tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean, they aren't - oh my god." And then she was gaping, open mouthed and wide-eyed, at what had once been bloodied flesh becoming whole once again in a matter of seconds. "That's incredible. Like...like..." She couldn't even come up with a direct association. The only thing coming to mind for her was a manga she'd read ages ago.

‹Azraeth› "Well it's not normal." He agreed even as he reached for his shirt once more, and realized it was too much of a bloody mess to be put back on. "There are a lot of names for what I am, what my family is. Without using any specific nomenclature, because stereotypes are stupid, suffice it to say we have certain abilities. You're...unique, strong. I can see that. I want to give you the chance to have those same abilities."

‹Cordelia› So her similarity was close, in a way. "You can make me able to do things like that?" she said, still gaping, occasionally stumbling over her words as she was in a touch of shock. But she was flattered he thought she was strong. "I've been trying to be strong for years. You can make me stronger?"

‹Azraeth› "To an extent. Being what I am...it comes with a lot of benefits, but there are also a lot of draw backs as well. If you do, you won't be able to step into the sunlight anymore. You'll need to feed on blood to sustain yourself. There are people who go completely insane when the change happens in them." Which. Gave away what he was, but he didn't want to say the word still. Too much drama wrapped up in those two syllables. Too many cliches, and stories, and expectations.

‹Cordelia› Catching on, Cordelia grinned quite brilliantly. "I understand. Sometimes, the benefits outweigh the bad things, though. This would be one of those situations." She winked, shifting to lean forward, both hands on the altar now. "Just tell me what you need to do, and what you need me to do. I am game for this."
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Re: Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

Post by Azraeth »

‹Azraeth› She seemed enthusiastic enough, and Az was briefly drawn back to his own turning. Things had not gone so pleasantly, Nikolae had been little more than a madman at the time, newly turned himself. The progenitor of the Dragomir had turned both of the twins. "Well you need to bleed out, for one." He said as a hand dropped, fingertips sliding back to grasp the hilt of a concealed ritual dagger. "This...will be a bumpy ride." He warned a second later. "You will feel like you are dying, because you will be. And what you come back as won't be entirely who you are now." He said as he pulled the dagger free, letting light gleam along one of its honed edges.

‹Cordelia› A moment of trepidation took Cordelia as he extracted the knife, before she lifted her bag from her form, setting it gingerly at the side of the altar and taking a deep, steadying breath. One hand lifted, resting on her chest, feeling the relatively calm beating of her heart. She felt relaxed, somehow, like this was what her life had always been careening towards. A moment later, she rested her hands on the altar again. "Go ahead. Whatever you need to do to make me bleed. Do it, and do it fast, before I have a chance to even think about changing my mind."

‹Azraeth› There was no looking back, as far as he was concerned. Vampires used the term 'path' without even thinking about it, to describe the route they ended up going after they died. But few of them considered those slow beginning steps, which started before the journey even began. Humanity. As a sire, it was his job to help Cordelia make that transition from the voyage of life into the darker cover of the night's embrace, and the many paths which forked off from it. He moved fast as lightning. One moment he stood there and the next, it was as if he'd struck. The way a cobra might. His blade sank into her neck and wrenched free. A body could bleed out in seconds with that type of wound.

‹Cordelia› A gasp, just as the blade sunk into her flesh and pulled free. Choking as blood filled her airway, spilling up from into her mouth, spewing over the altar table. Her heart pounded hard, fast, as if its pace could mend the wound. Cordelia's only thought was that she was glad she'd chosen a red dress for the night, as she felt her arms try to give out. She forced them to remain rigid as she practically vomited blood from both mouth and wound onto the altar. Guess he gets his sacrifice after all, as her vision swam. She forced herself to look up at him, before collapsing.

‹Azraeth› The truth of the matter was that Az only had a few moments to do what was required. If she died before he gave her his blood, then it was all for nothing. Externally, he didn't display the worry he felt nagging at the back of his mind. There had been times when Azraeth had killed without remorse. He could do it often enough. When the need to feed became too much. Or when he was doing a ritual. Blood would always sing to him in ways that nothing else could. So he bridged the gap between them. Red, hot fluid poured onto him, ruining his clothing. Not that it mattered. He pulled Cordelia against his chest as he lifted his hand. The ritual dagger was dropped onto the altar's surface and he ripped open a vein in his wrist to press it against a mouth. "Drink." He instructed.

‹Cordelia› With the slightest moan as she was dragged against Azraeth's bare chest, she felt herself instinctively latching onto his wrist, blinded by her own eyelids as she forced herself to drink. As she did, ever so slowly, the blood escaping her began to...change. Shift color, darken, become weightless, until it seemed to stain the very air with its presence, rather than her skin. The black of her sightlessness grew less and less threatening, more welcoming, the more she drank.

‹Azraeth› At first, the blood that came out of Cordelia flowed. It was red and messy and it smeared all over Az's chest, leaving stains in his pants. But as he fed her his own essence, he watched it begin to change. Leaving streaks of blackness in the air, Az knew almost immediately what path his childe was going to be on. Much like Nikolae, she would be a shadow. Well. That certainly made things easier. He wasn't sure how long it would take her to recover. So as his wound began to stitch shut he carefully laid Cordelia down on the altar. Everyone took the change differently. Some popped up immediately, ready for their new life. Others spent time comatose.

‹Cordelia› Laying there, prone, Cordelia felt herself drifting initially, before centering, focusing, back into her own physical form. For those few moments, she felt like smoke. Then - she opened her eyes, still human eyes, caramel in color and staring at the ceiling. But she felt suddenly weighted, like she couldn't move...and for the moment, couldn't speak

‹Azraeth› Az watched Cordelia as the change took her. When she had entered the Dragomir Temple, she had been human, but when she left, she would be something else entirely. Immortal. Truly so given the Sundering. Even death was temporary for their kind. He didn't bother to clean up. Blood frequently soaked into the altar. But when those eyes opened, Az found himself smiling. "Welcome to the night, Cordelia Dragomir." He said, and offered her his hand, the way he had earlier in the night.

‹Cordelia› Coughing out a laugh, she was finally able to move. Cordelia lifted her left hand upward, taking his hand and sitting up, blinking slightly at the remnants of black blood on the air. "Am I hallucinating that?" she said, brows furrowing as she stared at it, lifting her right hand to poke at a speck.

‹Azraeth› Cordelia sat up and Az pulled back, his head turning when she referenced the black blood in the air. His hand moved to grip it, fingers sliding around the droplets and streaks. "No. This is one of the side effects of the type of vampire you are." He explained before twisting to lean against the altar. The Temple was a huge mess. But he would worry about cleaning it up later. "You're a Shadow, by the way. You'll learn more about what that means later. My sire is also one."

‹Cordelia› Shadow. The word made her smile. No wonder the darkness had felt so comforting when she'd had her eyes closed, drifting between life and death. It was what she was now. But she caught on the mention of type of vampire. "So we're not afraid of the word anymore?" she grinned, kicking her feet slightly. "Good. Makes things a bit easier. How many types are there? How many of the cliches are true?"

‹Azraeth› "Well you're going to hear that word plenty of times. I don't doubt that we weren't always called that, but people like things that are easily categorized." He shrugged then, corner of his mouth tugging in a grin. "And all of the cliches are true. All of them. But all of us are a little different." He explained, even as he straightened a little bit. "But there are six main varieties. Shadows, Mystics, Necromancers, Killers, Allurists, and Telepaths. Each path has its own strengths and weaknesses." It was practically rote memorization by this point.

‹Cordelia› Nodding with each statement, Cordelia focused, listening to what he had to say. She only spoke up when he finished. "So, everything? The fear of holy symbols, the garlic, the sunlight, the running water thing...?" She lifted an eyebrow, as if she didn't fully believe some of that. "Well, crap. And I suppose no eating, either."

‹Azraeth› He chuckled as she rattled off the list of different lore items that applied to vampires. It seemed as if there were some in every culture. "Not so much the garlic." He corrected. "Sunlight is dangerous to all of us though. Some have issues with holy symbols. Some don't. Same with running water." He explained. "There are a lot of different variations. Most of the vampires you meet will not have been turned prior to 2011...and that's a significantly longer story." He murmured. And then tacked on "No eating, no. Some of us have the potential, but not you, and not me."

‹Cordelia› "Well, goodbye, cheesecake," she murmured, crossing her ankles as she leaned back on her hands. "I don't want the gory details about the past. The past is just that - past our reach. Unless you're about to tell me some vampires have time-travel powers."

‹Azraeth› "I'm sure some of them wish they do." He commented, as he pushed hands into his pant pockets, his shoulders rolling forward, back curling a little bit. "The ones who are older than that are...much older, but the chances of meeting one is pretty minimal." He said in hushed tones. And then he straightened again. "Anyway, you're probably going to want to feed."

‹Cordelia› Taking a moment, patting herself down, Cordelia thought. Still wet blood stained her throat, the last remnants of her humanity. But as he mentioned feeding, she felt a ripping hunger tear through her, and she doubled over with a single dry-heave, covering her mouth instinctively to prevent anything that was trying to from coming out. Hunger nausea. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. After all, most of my blood's all over that." And she gestured to the altar they stood at.

‹Azraeth› The first hunt was always important. Ritual really. Once you turned someone, you had to teach them how to fend for themselves. There were certain vampire basics. Az was surprised nobody had written some kind of manual for it. Like a supernatural DIY manual. He stepped away from the altar, his hand reaching out for hers once more. They were coated in blood. They were going to blend in with the night about as well as a rainbow in the Shadow Realm. His instincts told him that they should change. Take it slow. But he was ravenous himself, and sometimes doing things the clean way. The tidy way. Sometimes that just didn't work. So they began towards the entrance of the temple. "Any preference? Virgins are hard to come by." He warned with a smile.

‹Cordelia› Accepting his hand with a grin of her own, the other massaging her throat, the brunette followed. In the shadows, she might look like she was just wearing a high-neck sleeveless dress, but her hand came away with some of the blood, ruining that flawless illusion. "Just make the hunger stop," she murmured, closing her eyes for just a moment before they flashed open again. For a split second, her eyes looked reptilian, before the irises immediately shrank back down, pupils returning to a rounded shape.

‹Azraeth› They passed through the entry way. Cordelia had come through as a human, entered into the Temple filled with life and vital energies. Anima. But she left as something else entirely, a creature of shadows, and a Dragon. "Lets pay our friends from before a little visit." He said. He'd caught the proverbial scent before, when he was being shot at. The mystical, spiritual energies. And so he led her into the back alleyways, following the lead created by bloodlust, every footstep bringing him closer and closer to the guys who had attacked them.

‹Cordelia› A dark giggle escaped Cordelia as Azraeth suggested they visit the trio who had attacked them earlier. Following, she caught a faint whiff of lingering blood in the air, and looked down at the ground to see spatters of blood. "Looks like I got that one good," she said idly, as if commenting on the breeze or the texture of the walls.
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Re: Let the hurricane set in motion ( Azraeth )

Post by Cordelia »

‹Azraeth› They were guided along those back alleys, and across the dark parts of town, where there were few to no cops roving around - a miracle after Bancroft had taken power. And Az had been hopeful that they might catch the men outside or in some public location, but apparently the trio had decided to duck into someone's home. When they got there, it was painfully obvious it belonged to someone's parents. Suburban. Middle class. Too much money for some kid with a shitty attitude to pay for on his own. And that....well it certainly complicated things. What if someone they didn't want to feed on was home? "You did. Lesson one though. Most vampires have to be invited into a home. You're a shadow, so one day you will be able to bypass this, but for now, lets knock on the door and see if we can charm our way inside."

‹Cordelia› Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Cordelia nodded, looking down at herself. She looked horrible. "We could say we walked here after getting mugged or something and need to use the phone?" she suggested, scratching at her chin for a moment. "I mean, we look like hell."

‹Azraeth› "Hopefully they don't remember us." He said as he slid up the drive and across the stepping stones leading towards the front stoop. He rapped on the door, waiting for an answer. Nobody came. So he knocked again. Still nothing. It was at that point he began to push the loud, buzzing door bell, and finally the door was flung open. There was a haze of pot smoke that hit them like a brick wall, and the guys looked even more fucked up than before. Az could see two of them in the background. The one at the door was a little bloody. Were they trying to patch up the wound on their own?

‹Cordelia› Patience is not the strong suit of a hungry, new vampire. Cordelia ended up pacing on the step, back and forth, back and forth, until the door opened. She grinned at the sight, almost a wolfish expression, as she breathed in the scent of blood from inside. Gently, she prodded Azraeth in the back, and hoped these idiots were too high to notice the blood.

‹Azraeth› High was good. High and drunk was better. Impairment was a vampire's friend, especially one who had a gift for getting inside of someone else's skull. Az's hand lifted and he moved his fingers briefly in front of the human's face as if to get his attention. And then there was a slow, careful sway as he moved his hand back and forth, fingers splayed. Through the entire thing, the mortal looked into those serpentine eyes. And then the human began to sway back and forth slowly in time with the motion of a hand. "Invite us inside." Said the vampire. And the mortal did. "Dinner time." He whispered back.

‹Cordelia› Watching Azraeth do his little mind-trick magic, Cordelia, too, was mesmerized. She wanted to know, to understand, just how he did it. Maybe someday she would. But when the mortal invited them inside, a vicious smirk took over her elegant features, turning a woman into a ravenous beast in a single twitch of expression. She stepped around Azraeth, heels clicking slightly, ignoring the heavy scent of pot in the air as best she could as she swayed close. Seductive, it would be seen as to the mortals. But to her, it was the stalk of a proud beast.

‹Azraeth› He was happy to clean up. That was generally Az's role. Other people were the muscle, or the fire, or what have you. Him? He was quiet, and he made sure that there were no loose ends. What was that about crime? No crime was complete without a cover up. And only a fool left witnesses. He shut the door behind them as he divested their new friend of his phone. Couldn't have someone calling the police. And the guys further back had their own phones out on the table, so he went to collect those, seating himself on the flat surface. "Evening, boys." he said with a smile as he pocketed all of the devices. Including, he hoped, the one that had gotten footage of them.

‹Cordelia› Perching her bloodied self against the wall, Cordy smiled at the boys, licking her teeth a moment before she twisted slightly, looking at them. "Who wants to go first?" she asked, glancing from one to the other. Her eyes ended up on the one bleeding out on the couch from the wound she'd inflicted. "You look like you've had a rough night."

‹Azraeth› Az would likely dump the phones into the river at some point after crushing them into tiny tiny parts. That was the problem with technology; it was so easily broken. But that left him with the issue at hand, dealing with the men who had shot him and nearly harmed Cordelia. To her credit, she seemed to be handling things on her own, and he had no intention of interrupting. He wanted to see it - how she did it. How she took the plunge and made her first mark. Would she kill the man? Would she have qualms with violence? Something told him she might have inherited his taste for violence. Ironic for the vampire pacifist. And so Az turned his attention to the man nearest him. "Is there anyone else in the house?" He asked to the still tranced out guy with the blood on his shirt. Apparently not. Spring vacation? How delicious.

‹Cordelia› A slow laugh escaped her as she approached the man with the bullet hole in his shoulder, licking her lips like a beast on the hunt. She sank to her knees, smoothing her dress, and leaned in close. She didn't speak, didn't try anything to soothe him, as her lips sealed over the already torn open wound, sucking hard to draw more blood to the surface. Start with the easy one and go from there.

‹Azraeth› With almost no danger of being caught, Az was free to play. Always make sure your bases are covered. That was lesson two, but he wasn't about to say that. Cordelia was a smart woman. She likely had that much figured out already. He'd never understand it. People who treated their childer like newborns or babes. Like they didn't have a wealth of human experience all on their own. He reached for the man who stood there in a hypnotized state and suddenly he struck like a viper. One moment there was skin and sweat. The next a throat had been torn open and blood was gushing. So Az drank from it like it was a fountain.

‹Cordelia› All too quickly, the already wounded man was done, not enough blood left to circulate his body in his veins. Lifting her head, she let the still warm liquid drip down her chin, before her too-red tongue darted to catch it. "Mm," she moaned in contentment, before standing and lunging for the other, unadulterated male, as the wounded boy gave up his last bit of fight. She wasn't so quick as Azraeth, and didn't go for the throat - she tore into the veins in his shoulder instead, one hand lifting to smother his cries of pain before he relaxed. And she drank just as deeply.

‹Azraeth› He came away from the quickly dying man with lips and chin stained in blood. He had splatters of it on his chest. He was a mess, after the death and rebirth of his new childe, and after their first hunt. Whoever owned the place was going to be in for a shock. Grisly murder in local suburban home. He could see the headline. Except it wouldn't be a headline. Maybe a blurb. Nobody cared anymore it seemed. So he wiped his mouth though it didn't clean him up. He could feel heat trickling into his limbs as he sprawled back on the table, laying languidly across it, enjoying that 'just fed' feeling. "Mmm." He let out.

‹Cordelia› When Cordelia was finished, she tossed the still-warm body aside and flopped down on her back on the couch, content grin perfectly in place on a bloodied mouth. She wiped her lower lip with her right index finger, twisted it, letting the red gleam in the light as she stared, before sticking the digit between those lips and licking it clean. "So, what now?" she said sweetly, glancing over.

‹Azraeth› What now, she said. He glanced up after a moment and shrugged slowly. "We can do whatever you want. There are some rules you have to abide, but I'll teach you those as we go." He offered before finally properly sitting up, dropping back onto the floor as he strode into the living area between he and Cordelia. The couch was there, and he'd been forced to make a b-line for the little dine in kitchen. "For now, we should probably go back to my place and get showered off."

‹Cordelia› Slowly, Cordelia got to her feet, smoothing the skirt of her dress against her thighs. "Rules, of course," she acknowledged, inclining her head. "I look forward to learning them." She glanced around. "What should we do with the bodies?"

‹Azraeth› "Leave them." He said as he made his way towards her, his hand moving to settle against a shoulder. Suddenly, the pair of them were no longer in that suburban house, but were instead standing in the center of his apartment, with its dark, grayscale tones. He let his shoulders roll back and then he stretched. The place had been soundproofed, and every surface was resistant to stain. "It will probably get blamed on some psychopath or serial killer. They might try searching for the problem, or they might just cold case the whole thing because who cares about some worthless stoners?" He asked of her. "No matter what they do, it's not like they can pick up evidence on us."

‹Cordelia› "You're the expert here," she said, just as he touched her shoulder, just before they were suddenly somewhere else. She froze, staring about wildly. "Okay. This place...is ******* awesome," she spewed. "I left my purse at the Temple. ****! How am I going to get my clothes?"

‹Azraeth› He chuckled softly even as he gestured around a little bit. "Don't worry about it. The Temple will be closed soon, and the staff knows to take care of any valuables left there. You will get a chance to pick those up shortly." He offered before motioning to the bathroom. "The shower is that way...and I'll loan you some of the stuff I used to wear when I was a girl." He said. He still had boxes of Superbia outfits that were literally just taking up space.

‹Cordelia› Her gun would be safe. Phew. A beat later, she was studying him. "I don't want to be rude, but...you used to be a girl?" She sounded amazed. "Well, you look fantastic."

‹Azraeth› Another chuckle. He could almost hear Nikolae complaining about 'Mystics'. Muttering things under his breath. "The type of vampire I am. Mystics. When we come back from death, we take new bodies. A couple of times, I've come back as a woman." A shrug then. It was just another variation in the sea of oddities that made up their kind.

‹Cordelia› With a shrug, she sighed. "Wonder what would happen to me." Then shaking out her hair, she made her way towards the bathroom, one hand reaching behind to unzip her red, red dress, shoes being kicked off on the way in.
i am immune to you, you are immune to me
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we are both sick souls with the same disease
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