Salt [Open]

[Myk]

Things felt far too heavy lately. One might think that with a layer removed from the Earth that it might get lighter, but that was not the case. Myk was reminded of the many parties he had attended, where great masses of balloons were held in suspense, secured to the ceiling with a fine mesh. That was what the Masquerade had been, a thin and fragile veil that kept the worlds apart. With the net of lies cut, the weight of the truth came tumbling down, but, it was too soon to tell whether those balloons were filled with air or rocks. Would the unsuspecting party-goers be squashed and trampled under the weight, or, would they revel in this new-found reality and find something marvellous to play with? It was a difficult call. And sure, many of Myk’s kin were doing their part to sway events one way or another. Some old faces carrying the torch of hindsight had arrived on the scene, made their case, only to promptly return to the obscurity they had been sleeping in for over two years. The hypocritical saviours of Harper Rock city had mysteriously gone quiet, with not even an ‘I told you so’ to hoot from their beaks. There had been parties and there had been PR stunts too, and through it all Myk had occupied himself with simply watching the fallout.

Oh, but he had wanted to get involved. There was always a part of him – the revolutionary, the anarchist, the law enforcer – which had wanted to break free and revel and inspire his fellows. But, Myk couldn’t make up his own mind on what to do, so, how was he to affect such a massive change? He had actually decided to bow out of this one, taking a leaf out of the books of his superiors. The idea was to keep his head down, to not attract any unwanted attention, and above all else, to not allow anyone to know that he was a Vampire. It was just that… well. Myk wasn’t very good at playing in the shadows. That was not to say he couldn’t be discreet, but, to vanish entirely and disguise himself under a mask? No sir. Myk was the type who dressed regularly in a costume, applied make-up, performed, and assumed a persona, but he was always playing a part of himself. There was not a single personality inside his crazy-psycho-bonkers head, however, that agreed with the phrase: better safe than sorry.

Screw that! It was always better to risk. The only regret a person should have is that they didn’t do something. They should lament the fact that they didn’t ask that hottie on a date. They should mourn the missed opportunity to raise their hand and answer the call. They should find remorse in the lost moments because they didn’t say they were sorry. They most certainly shouldn’t regret inadvertently taking someone hostage on account of getting stuck in a pair of handcuffs because a party trick had gone terribly, horribly wrong. Well, mostly wrong. Myk actually didn’t mind being tethered to his despairing hostage even if the young lady hadn’t stopped whining in his ear for the past three minutes. Seriously. Anyone would think that he’d stolen her purse with the way she was carrying on…

“Why won’t the keys work? I don’t understand why the keys don’t work!” she howled.

This again as Myk was trying vainly to connect the tiny keys with the over-sized hole – no euphemism intended. And, of course, she was just loud enough to be heard by the nearby crowds even despite the thumping music, which was surely fortunate because adding a crowd of people – of varying degrees of drunkenness and who didn’t know what was happening between male and female – into an already volatile situation had never ever made anything worse in the course of Human history…

“Err… probably because these are for the other set,” Myk murmured back, looking sheepishly up at her over the glint of hardened steel.

By now, her face was so red that the Telepath thought the capillaries in her skin were on the verge of bursting, that her head might then burst too, and she would turn into a fountain. With the otherwise marble hue of her skin and the gold sequin dress she was wearing, it would be a pretty fountain, but then again Myk rather doubted the artistic eye of the crowd. They probably wouldn’t appreciate the sight, not to mention the job of clean-up, and he would likely get thrown in jail for man-slaughter on account of being the cause of her explosion. Still, it was all very temporary and she was clearly over-reacting to the situation. It was probably those seven cranberry and vodkas she’d had before Myk had wandered over to show them a magic trick. Yes. That was probably it.

“If you can’t get these off in the next five seconds,” she warned, and he could definitely see the veins threatening in her brow. “Then we’re going to the police!”

He probably shouldn’t have laughed then. It was most definitely the wrong time to laugh. And Myk quickly found out that out when he heard a popping sound coincide with a flaring burn across his cheek. A cold, pale hand was pressed to the area as Myk stared in – silent – disbelief at the woman who’d just back-handed him. Suddenly her dormouse face, flaxen hair, and emerald eyes were not so flattering. Regardless, it was still funny on some level because the Telepath had quickly recovered his mischievous grin.

“Get these cuffs off now!” she roared.

“Fine, fine.”

Discarding the small set of keys to the sticky floor of the nightclub, Myk reached for a bobby pin hidden in the lengths of his white hair. After pulling the hairpin straight, he slid it right between the pawl and ratchet of the locking mechanism, then pushed the ratchet and the hairpin in at the same time. After a quick tug, the ratchet released and the young damsel was freed. Finally! She grasped at her bare wrist, bringing them both to her breast. Pewter eyes narrowed at the young woman who was recoiling like a cat, this look in her features straddling the point where disgust met confusion and fear. Without a word, the Telepath turned his back and walked away. It was better that he didn’t toy with the feelings of the feline much longer, and with the way her three friends were leering at him as they gathered around her, Myk felt very much like a hyena amongst the lionesses.

The Telepath retreated to the bar, threading his way through the glistening bodies of both on-lookers and dancers until he was forgotten. He poured himself onto one of the free stools, the cuffs connecting with the chrome counter with a cutlery-sharp clanking, reminding him he had yet to remove his own bindings. Still, it was the last thing on his mind. The first thing on his mind was to acquire a drink – a margarita to be exact, but mixed with pumpkin and spices. It was nearly Halloween after all.

Wearing

[Cosimo Alessi (DELETED 6612)]

Why people chose to meet in crowded, over-noisy nightclubs was beyond the Italian.

The noise had never really much appealed to him. Maybe he was too old for it, or maybe he’d just never acquired the taste. Maybe he never would have, regardless of what year he was born. The smooth tones of Jazz and Blues were more to Cosimo’s tastes; a smoky bar that smelled of good beer, whiskey and cigars far more appealing than this nightclub. He did not need to see scantily dressed women or the men who groomed themselves like male models. He had a woman at home who dressed provocatively enough, and even she had to try hard sometimes given Cosimo’s condition.

Some would call him a ‘new age’ man, attracted to wit and personality rather than to looks. Some might call him an old soul. Some might call him a sensitive pussy. In the grand scheme of things, he really couldn’t give a **** what anyone else thought of him. He had his happiness. He had his work. There were things that were lacking, but even those had started to mend themselves and become full again.

It wasn’t too long ago that he’d escorted Elizabeth to the Masquerade party. Whatever their past, and whatever addictions Cosimo had had to wean himself of, it felt good to be in contact with his sire again – to feel like he might be able to summon her again at a moment’s notice. Though he was not as desperate for her company anymore. Her approval was no longer life or death. It was a good thing. It was a far healthier way to be. And at least she would now know that whatever loyalty he had would be born of genuine actions and not just of some weird, unexplainable attachment.

All children had to be weaned from their mother’s milk eventually.

The deal was done quietly and without fuss; agreements were made and money handed over, a quieter meeting place secured for the passing of goods. It was a first meeting. It wasn’t really beyond Cosimo – he understood. A crowded place meant less chance of violence and a greater ability to escape. He understood. But he didn’t have to like it.

The club had nothing else to offer Cosimo. The music was giving him a headache and he had no desire to dance. And he could not drink, and did not particularly want to risk asking if they sold blood. The city was still in a state of unrest, and one could never assume where a human or human-owned establishment stood. Cosimo, too, was taking a page out of Elizabeth’s book. He was going to lay low. He was going to urge Athena and Kit, Juniper and Foster to lay low. They could of course decide what they wanted to do for themselves, though he would keep an eye on them regardless.

It was on his way out that Cosimo caught the familiar face. Myk, at the bar. How long had it been? Cosimo approached and slid in beside his kin.

”Are the things so dire that you will cuff yourself to the bar, Myk? Do you need help?” Cosimo asked, lifting the hanging portion of the cuffs with an inquisitively arched brow.

[Elizabeth]

In a nightclub there were various sections within. There was the rowdy side of the bar or club where a vast assortment of people gathered for multiple reasons. A drinking game. A drinking contest. A sporting game, or just to make some 'friends' for the night. Then there was the dancing section filled with people of all sorts of capabilities from the guy who got lost in the seventies and never escaped those dance moves, to the drunken butterfly with wings flapping all over the place, to those that should be performing and not wasting their talents in the bar or night club. Then, there was another space near the wall for the wallflowers that are looking for something, but not sure what they are looking for, but believe they will find it at some point if they wait long enough or look hard enough. Finally, there was an odd quite place here and there. Most of those were for couples who wanted to be cozy and intimate within the legal realm of what you can and can't do in public, but tonight, there was a space reserved for a woman with short, shoulder length blonde hair, and smokey colored eyes.

She sat at a high round table by herself, with nothing other than a chessboard. The white side was facing her, while the other side; the black side, remained empty and opened. A few people walked by and laughed, some shook their heads, while others heckled at her, but her eyes never strayed from the glass board. The truth was, Elizabeth never heard them, for her mind was connected to the phone device on the table in front of her, listening to a compilation of works by Alessandro Poglietti while she studied the board and played against herself.

She was a genuine novice to the game, but found the idea of playing against herself fascinating. After all, you were your own worst enemy, were you not? And so, with three white pieces down; two pawns and a rook, and only two black pieces off the board; two pawns, it seemed as if the side Elizabeth seemed to favour was on the loosing side tonight. Slowly, her feet pressed down to the chrome bar used as a foot pedal, allowing her to rise, as Elizabeth studied how the black side was laid out and it's weaknesses, while playing for the white team. A black pawn was carefully knocked off the board, then gathered with the rest of its fallen comrades, before she wrapped her fingers around the black rook and simply stared at the board. There was a pawn ready and waiting for the taking, but it was small game in the bigger scheme of things, was it not? Just as she was about to slide the rook to its new location, a group of drunken kids; two male and one female came cackling by, whooping and hollering before one the males leaned against the table as he nearly lost his balance, causing the entire board to shift, along with the pieces and her phone.

When the music stopped, it was then Elizabeth recognized that the game had been altered due to an outside force. And that was when she noticed the 'ruckus' of the other music and the loudness of the club. While the music served the purpose of invoking a state of thought, it also served as a barrier to the other sounds Elizabeth either did not like, was not fond of, or found too loud for her own comfort level due to almost an entire year of staying indoors and away from just how loud the outside world could actually be when not in a quiet flower shop, a library, inside her own family estate, or a quilt shop. As her eyes landed on the culprit, there was a change to her body language, along with the woman's facial features. Gone was the pleasant, but thoughtful features of a high raised eye brow, along with the straight, thinly pressed lines of her lips. Her eyes brows knit together and pulled downwards, as her eyes glazed over into a steely stare, while the corners of her lips pulled downwards. While it certainly wasn't the end of the world; the game coming to a sudden halt and stand still, or just having to been lost for forever, Elizabeth found herself extremely upset, anxious and uncertain of who these people were, why they did what they did, and what they wanted from her as they stood there starring at her, waiting for her to say or do something. Not sure what to do, Elizabeth did the first and only thing that came to mind, which was grab the glass chess board and raise it high in the air and bring it down on the man's head who started these series of events.

Wearing: http://67.media.tumblr.com/736b57e9f6e6 ... 3_1280.jpg

[Myk]

Rather than drink the potent cocktail, Myk stared into the orange liquid and marvelled at the ring of salt lining the edge like diamonds, glittering radiantly in the fragmented light of the club. His left hand held the stem of the glass, which was certainly more like a bowl than a drinking container. His right hand was still resting on the bar – the handcuffs, dangling freely, scraped across the chrome counter even as he sat quite still. One knee was crossed over the other as he perched, back to the world, and in fact Myk was barely aware of his surroundings. His vision darkened at the edges, creating a tunnel of focus on the pumpkin spiced margarita. No matter the thoughts which invaded him – telling him to move, to shift, to break from the spell he was under – nothing would have the Telepath budge. Nothing, that was, until a voice pierced the haze in his ears. Myk blinked at last, after a long moment of mannequin stillness, and looked across to where he perceived the voice had come from. There, to his right, was the male Vampire he had managed to overlook up until now, the male Vampire which had made some kind of a joke and lifted the cuffs with a finger for emphasis.

There was a fraction of a second where Myk just gawked at the man, followed briefly by a scanning of his exterior. There was something eerily familiar in the way those pewter eyes raked over the male’s form, trickling down from the man’s stubbled face, to a neck, across collar bones and broad shoulders that were hidden beneath a shirt, cascading over a concealed torso to the man’s lower regions, which had rudely disappeared into darkness and cloth. There wasn’t much else to see from their positions on the bar stools and so, in a blink, Myk’s eyes returned and settled on the man’s facial features. Those blue eyes were cryptic and beautiful and somehow dangerous, but most of all Myk was reminded of their turbulent history together. While his memory was often full of holes, he hadn’t completely forgotten the Italian who’d played the role of roaming feline.

Myk’s feelings had always been mixed concerning this one. At first, there had been a sense of jealousy, the kind experienced by the first born child when their younger sibling came screaming into their life. The Telepath couldn’t explain his irrational response, which was rather why it had been described as irrational. Of course Myk was prone to jealousy; the white-haired man could be as possessive and fanatical as he could be detached and fleeting. And somehow, Cosimo’s arrival into the tower of ivory had put Myk on the defencive, made him feel highly insecure. There had also been a spell of nervousness around this male, inspired by the fact that Myk just didn’t trust those people who were so very blasé, happy, and relaxed. He found it somehow fake, not to mention downright nauseating. It was one thing to be a clown, making people laugh, but the sickening sense of optimism and eternal happiness that Cosimo displayed? No. That was different. That was suspicious.

Yet, Myk understood that he was acting in a way that was totally unhelpful, not to mention unjustified. In the case of too much sourness, one must add sugar to balance.

It didn’t take too long for Myk to smile to Cosimo, in the indulgent way a mother smiles upon her child, the boy having just correctly labelled a tree. “Oh darling,” he purred. “If I need any help from you in concerns to handcuffs, it most certainly wouldn’t be in this setting.” He paused, brazenly taking a moment to let those diabolical eyes drop into Cosimo’s lap again. “But, you’ll notice I’m not exactly cuffed to the bar.” Myk lifted the hand still ensnared by hardened steel just briefly from the counter and wiggled it, causing the metals to sing and bark as they crashed together. “So if you’re really looking to help me…” Myk set his hand down on Cosimo’s knee, his pewter eyes never parting from the sapphire lustre of the Mystic’s. “I can be very accommodating. And grateful.”

The way Myk’s voice pitched toward the end suggested he’d harvested an entire sugarcane field. It was easy enough to smile and flirt with Cosimo – their relationship, after all, wasn’t all trials and tribulations. Myk had grown curious about the male, had become interested in his past, present, and future. The one-sided animosity had faded with time and, well… Myk could never stay too mad at or too wary toward a creature as stunning as that Italian. In the end, his pride and insecurity were no match for lust. Yet, his lust was clearly no match for his curiosity because, at the sound of shattering glass, Myk’s hand lifted from that unsuspecting knee – before the Italian could break his fingers – and his eyes tore themselves away from that chiselled face. The Telepath’s inhuman hearing indicated that the source of the miniature explosion was toward the back of the room, and that it had caused enough of a disruption that a crowd of dancers had ceased their gyrations to study it too.

“What in the world…”

Scuffles weren’t uncommon in these settings, and neither was the prospect that someone had simply dropped their beverage. From the weight of the glass, the way it burst into shards upon impact with some dense object, and the volume of it – Myk had deduced that this was, in fact, an uncommon situation. But what to do about it? Technically, it was none of his business what was happening on the other side of the nightclub, but, such technicalities had never stopped him before. Myk slipped from his barstool with fluid grace, onto the rubber soles of his combat boots that did nothing to add any height to his 5’11” frame. He remembered Cosimo was taller, and looking back to the Mystic, his presence hadn’t waned from being seated. A sudden, mischievous thought brought a scarlet smile to Myk’s features as he considered what he could do to encourage the male to explore with him.

“Coming?” he asked, arching a brow. The hand on his right side had balled into a fist, and yet, the left looked completely relaxed, almost like he was ready to grab and tug the Italian with him.

[Cosimo Alessi (DELETED 6612)]

Yes, Cosimo knew that Myk was not cuffed to the bar. It had been a quip, a joke – the cuffs looked out of place. But then, this was Myk, was it not? Myk, as far as Cosimo knew, was prone to things like handcuffs. The Italian could recall the blinding white apartment that he had wandered into; he was surprised even now not to find Myk dressed all in white. But then, he hadn’t been that night, had he? Nor was Cosimo entirely sure what he expected, but a few seconds in the other’s presence and he was reminded exactly how brash and confident he could be.

It was not Cosimo who would break Myk’s fingers. The Italian doubted that Athena’s wrath was secluded only to women. He was certain that should she find anyone with their hand so suggestively upon Cosimo’s knee, she would lose her ****. He had yet to witness violence accompanying Athena’s fury, but he had a feeling that it lurked there beneath the surface. He had no doubt what she would be capable of.

And yet, he understood that though Myk might look harmless, he certainly was not. Not that Cosimo had been on the receiving end of any blatant animosity from the other, he only knew that he was older that Cosimo. Older in vampire years. Which meant a greater honing of skills, a greater set of abilities learned. Athena was in similar age to Cosimo, he mused. She probably would not stand a chance if she tried to break Myk’s fingers.

But Athena was not here, and Cosimo was alone to arch an inquisitive brow. There were choices. He could gently push Myk’s hand away and remind the man of his preferences, or he could play along. Or he could veer the path somewhere in the middle – he was no prude, but he was in a good mood. Before any quip could be uttered, any counter action, however, the hand was taken away. The sound of glass shattering stole everyone’s attention. Myk was off his stool and looked like a curious child ready to run toward the pretty noises – and yet he paused to wonder whether Cosimo was coming or not. With half a smirk, Cosimo stood and patted the shorter man on the shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand sliding free as he passed his kin to meander in the direction of the commotion.

”If I were not the curious adventurous sort, Myk, I would not have come to say hello,” he said with the vaguest of winks before he began to lead the way. He did not hurry. What need was there for hurry? He did not think it was possible to coincidentally run into two people he knew in one nightclub – but it was a small world and, it would seem, a smaller city. The first thing that Cosimo noticed was the one boy on the floor, his hair matted with blood. A couple of people were kneeling at his side, another few were facing off against a slight woman. Blonde. Someone shifted and Cosimo got a good look at her – and it was at that moment that all humour slipped from his skin. He glanced over his shoulder, hand slipping behind Myk in a bid to help push them both forward.

”… it is Elizabeth,” he said, finally breaking through the clustered bodies so that he could sidle in beside his sire, his wide eyes searching her face before assessing the situation for a second time.

”What happened?!”

Wearing

[Elizabeth]

Pawns galore lay scattered upon the floor and small circular table, both kings accompany the majority of the pawns, while the black queen on the ground, while the white remained up high on the table.Other pieces could be found among the table, on the stool opposite the one she sat upon, and on the table, but the only object that held her attention was the white queen on the table. Everything else around her ceased to exist, as Elizabeth reached out and grabbed the queen, fingers tightly wrapped around her before it was brought to her persons.

The club was buzzing with people trying to protect the male, to those wanting to take his place and finish what was force started on him, and others moving to help the situation by getting the club security. None of that registered with her until the piece she held within her hands was tucked safely to her chest. Her sapphires looked to Cosimo first, because he simply spoke and asked something of everyone. Asked something of her.

Before Elizabeth spoke, her mind thought went back to the series of events, her thumb stroking the top of the crown area of the queen, as her eyes sprung over to Myk, smiling at the brilliance of all things white about him. It was a trait she adored about the male and whenever she was with him, found her state of mind to be calming due to the stark white hair, or the white in his apartment, or the clothing he even wore. They were one of the same; as in sharing the same path, but there were times, Elizabeth believed they were cut of the same cloth with their disposition or preferences and desires. "It is not what has happened..." She said, finding her voice, as small as it was. Her eyes flickered to the chess piece in her hands, finding comfort within in. "But what has NOT happened." The word 'not' was spoken with harshness and in an increased volume, indicating potential irritation or disdain, though one could not see it in her downward glance.

"I was unable to finish the game in which I started, but I suppose it matters not..." There was a moment of glee etched in her voice as the woman looked up from the white chess piece to make eye contact with Myk once again, as if she were sharing in some secret joke with him, or as if he would understand her words, regardless of how...irrational they actually were in the premise of things. Her wide saucers moved to Cosimo then as she continued on. "I was unable to finish the composition by Alessandro Poglietti, in which I was listening to, as well. It was not even but a third of the way complete." Really, anyone with any sense of sanity would be well aware of the fact that it was near impossible to play chess in a night club, but apparently that concept seemed to go over her head completely. Elizabeth wanted to enjoy herself, much like everyone else in the club, but through different means. While others wanted to drink, dance or even screw, none of those things were upon her mind. "Because of him." Her left hand shot out after a final stroke to the male on the ground, whose friends were surrounded by him, while others muttered a variety of things. 'What a jerk,' 'she's a crazy *****,' 'who plays chess in a club,' things along those lines, as the club security started making their way through the abundance of bodies in the club tonight.

[Myk]

Of course the Telepath knew that the Italian wasn’t exactly interested in him, not to mention engaging with the mild flirtations or scandalous propositions – the man was probably so straight you could use him to put up a shelf. That was all part of the game, however. Myk wished to witness for himself how far he could push the boundaries, to know where those lines really lay in the sands. Myk was a student in many regards, though some would call it childishness for his ability to reduce the world into its simplest expressions. After all, he did often act like a child in his wanton disregard for rules, laws, and order. It was because, in his mind, it was all rather grey. The lines were blurred. Nothing was set in stone. You could do this, but you could not do that. Oh, but some people could do those things, as if they have some sort of right to disobey the rules that kept others bound; some kind of superiority in the hierarchy, some kind of power that was bought. If the rules were so flexible, then he saw no reason to follow them. There was little respect there, little trust. It was the same reasons toddlers choose to defy their parents. They don’t see a role model that they should listen to because when mommy told them not to draw on the walls, she did so with a smile, a soft hand. She had made it a game. Set the challenges, made it so the child wanted to know just what would happen if he defied that logic.

The difference between Myk and the child in the scenario, however, was that Myk’s experiences were not limited to two years’ worth of experiences. He was not oblivious. He was not ignorant. The Telepath knew what could happen, but with the various nature of mankind’s psyche, the possibilities were potentially endless. So although Myk had an idea of what could happen as a result of his actions, he could never know for sure. His telepathic abilities could go far, but, he wasn’t capable of predicting the future in its certainty. This left him open to possibilities, but otherwise detached. There was little point getting his hopes up, expecting Cosimo to come to the dark side, so Myk couldn’t exactly feel disappointed when that didn’t happen. Of course he had his preferences, a list of ideals, but there was no point crying over spilt milk when there were plenty of other bottles to choose from. Every outcome was a prize in its own way, so when Cosimo had not broken his fingers or howled abuse at him, Myk was perfectly pleased. He was also pleased when the Italian had decided to join him in discovering the source of the ruckus, which rendered the handcuffs useless for the moment. When the pair approached, Myk some one or two steps behind the Italian, he couldn’t hide his surprise when he recognised the demure blonde at the centre of chaos.

It was remarkable to him how often he could misjudge people, and yet, how often people could be unlike themselves. The white-haired Telepath wasn’t wholly decided as to which category Elizabeth’s current display fell into, but, he was delighted to be a part of the decision. Witnessing this potentially unlikely occurrence gave an added dimension to the blonde’s personality, which in Myk’s world, made her ever more of a puzzle. Although he was still a step behind Cosimo, he had a good enough view to start putting the pieces together. There was a mortal on the ground that was slipping in and out of consciousness, he was surrounded by… chess pieces. His friends had this look of cursing fear in their eyes, a look that witches had learned to dread. The man on the ground’s head was currently a devotion to the Gods of Volcanoes judging by the slow, creeping river of blood that poured down his crown like lava. The smell of all that blood and fury and anticipation made Myk’s toes and fingers curl in on themselves – a small effort to keep himself from losing his composure. So he tensed, flinched, when he felt a hand at the base of his spine, a hand that seemed to want to usher him forward and into the chaos. Myk didn’t resist.

As the Italian asked what had happened and the blonde attempted to answer, more of the pieces fell into place, gathering in his mind to reform the chessboard that had scattered across the floor when it had impacted with the mortal’s skull. The blonde was livid, and when she struck out a finger at the offending party, the crowd seemed to erupt like she was about to cast a spell. The white-haired Telepath tried to withhold the laugh that was tickling his throat, trying to burst its way out of him via any weak point. Pewter eyes checked the position of the Mystic who was quick to take up a side, huddle in next to his sire. Despite arriving as a pair, Myk didn’t bother to follow suit. He had a better view of the situation from where he stood, in amongst the crowd of angry spectators. Besides that, if anyone would dare to make a move against the Lady, he was better placed to prevent it. The Telepath had an array of special abilities and talents; some of which he had been using for crowd control long before his nights as a Vampire. There was no need to take up arms, not when their better option was to retreat. Myk was confident he could cover their exit with a distraction of sorts…

“So you smashed the chessboard… over his head?” quipped the white-haired Telepath. Pewter eyes were probably too bright at that time, shining like polished mirrors as his focus shifted between Elizabeth and the crowd of angry, confused faces, then back again. “My, my, Lady… I didn’t think you had it in you. I am wonderfully impressed!”

Myk’s grin had changed from childlike surprise and joy to something more villainous then. He had neglected the scarlet staining of his lips tonight, and yet, he could certainly be called in to play the next Joker if Jared Leto didn’t end up working out. Well, provided they could negotiate on the green hair issue. Having noticed that there was a cat amongst the pigeons, however, the nightclub goers sharply withdrew from Myk. They pressed against each other, retreating like a tide to expose the trio of pebbles that sat abandoned on the shore line. Myk turned and peered at the crowd that was a person’s width around him, his eyes half-lidded as if disinterested in their existence. There was a distance of a few feet between himself and the other two Vampires, which was handy if he was going to lead the charge, as it were. Pewter eyes could already make out the bouncers weaving their way through to meet them, their bald heads standing over the crowds like a farmer’s pitchfork in a crop field. Again, Myk tried not to laugh or respond too impulsively to the tingle of electricity in the air, toward the storm that was brewing.

Ordinarily, one might think that such a scuffle in a nightclub would lead to the offenders being thrown out of the club or arrested by the authorities, but with speculation hanging in the air, with each man looking to his kin and questioning their loyalty, the potential for violence and vigilantism was high. After all, Vampires were everywhere now. They had been hiding in plain sight for years and nobody had noticed, no authority had challenged them, so why wait on the police to arrive to solve the problem now? There was no evidence linking the three of them to Vampirism, not exactly, but a mob will not stop to ask questions or justify themselves. There was no time for that and besides, they already think they’re right. Myk couldn’t just see and feel the accusation growing, he could hear it. Friends turned to each other, remarking on their opinions of the insane blonde and her curious companions. Soon the clusters of people began to share insights, the opinion leaping from one group of people to another like a parasite – invading each cell, and multiplying before bursting out to cover more ground. Before long, the whole body was infested, crawling with foul intentions. When Myk locked eyes with the emerald green orbs of the woman he’d performed a failed magic trick on earlier, the accusations began to fly.

“You know what, I reckon them three are Vampires.”

The voice from the crowd was undeniably male and likely uneducated. He was in his mid to late twenties, his skin was the colour of the river Thames, and just one whiff of him had determined that his hobbies included baby oil and copious amounts of beer. His idol was Dave Bautista judging by the shape of his body and the cut of his hair and outfit. He failed to be intimidated when Myk cast his sharp pewter gaze on him, stepping out from the crowd as if to rally them against the trio. Even the bouncers had stopped their march to watch.

“Just look at them!” the young Bautista continued. “Who dresses like that? Who brings a chessboard to a night club? It’s like they think they’re superheroes or something.”

Perhaps it was proximity, or perhaps it was because Myk was glaring at him, but the oil-clad mortal stomped his way over to the Telepath and started to prod at him with a stubby finger. Myk blandly regarded the digit that was trying to punch its way into his shoulder, turning his attention to those squinting black eyes in the centre of his pug-like face. As Myk determined that one of those eyes was a quarter of an inch higher than the other, the man loomed in closer. Of course Myk had noticed that the hulking male was roughly seven feet tall, but seven feet looks an awful lot larger when it’s standing right in front of your face than it does some metres away in a crowd. The man continued to press his finger into the Telepath’s shoulder, no longer punching his way through, but pushing with a clean, even force. The strength he applied should have made a mortal cringe, and so, Myk did his best to upgrade his reaction from uncomfortable to pained.

“So what’s your super power, huh? Other than being a freak?”

“I think being a freak covers it quite nicely,” the Telepath mused to himself, smirking. “Oh, right. Pain. Painful face.”

And as Myk was reminding himself to frown as if that pressuring finger was causing damage, the heavyweight noticed the handcuffs dangling from the Telepath’s wrist. In one curt motion, the mortal grabbed the open end of the cuffs, dragging Myk’s arm along with it, and showed it to the crowd like he was confirming their guilt. It was like he was holding up some runes or talismans or a broom with the way he brazenly held up the offending item, like these were the tools of the trade for Vampirism. Clearly drunk and stupid.

“So where’s this from?” he asked the crowd before turning his hard focus on Myk again. “Break out of prison, did we, Vampire?”

“Not recently. Perhaps I just suck at party tricks,” Myk offered with a smile, his eyes passing to the emerald eyed girl who growled at the contact. It was easy to take note of the fact that Myk’s voice failed to waver. “Now, if you would… Please release my hand.”

The Telepath had no idea why he was expecting that to work, but again, anything was possible in his mind. Drunken bullies tend not to break their stereotypes, however. In fact, the grip that had held the white-haired man’s arm in the air seemed to strengthen as he tugged upward. Myk felt his arm almost dislodge from the shoulder joint with the very sudden pull, but he was done playing the weaker mortal. With speed and dexterity that was almost too quick to register, Myk had slithered his hand out from the cuff and took three steps clear of the man’s grip. The look of astonishment and rage that crossed the young Bautista’s face in that moment was comical. The Telepath likened the man to the role of Drax, and therefore, himself as… Gamora… what with the way that stubby finger was used to point at him like the green whore would pay for murdering his family.

“You see…” Drax growled, looking at the crowd for support. “You see that? Vampires!”

“Oh, hardly,” Myk said, sounding remarkably arrogant as he had to manoeuvre his long, white hair back over his shoulders. “I’m just… as quick as a bunny and you’re… Well. You’re not.”

The crowd were watching with a mixture of fear, disbelief, and anger. If they believed that they truly were standing in the presence of three blood-suckers, then they weren’t sure what to do about it. It appeared as if the longer they had to consider it and the longer they stood there inactive, the more confused they were. Myk heard a few sighs of annoyance from the crowd, a few people complaining that they’d just come here for a good time, and a small minority had even decided to leave the nightclub. Myk wasn’t certain what would happen next, however. He didn’t know how his companions would react now that a hostile situation had been made ten times worse with the implication that they were the undead, and this hulking creature was acting as head Vampire hunter. The Telepath had wanted to communicate with the pair, to tell them to leave so he could cover their escape, but, he suspected that his encouragements to flee would only result in keeping them here. They were family after all and families don’t leave their loved ones behind. How painfully moral…

[Cosimo Alessi (DELETED 6612)]

Cosimo mostly kept out of crowded places like bars and clubs. He only went into them if his business took him there; if someone or other had bought his wares and they wanted an exchange. More often these days, if they were human, they wanted the exchange to be somewhere busy. Which was fair enough, wasn’t it? They were afraid that the shady arms dealer might be shadier than he let on. Which sometimes led Cosimo to worrying. What if he was selling his weapons to people who would later use them to try to harm the people he cared about? The Italian couldn’t claim to have any human friends or acquaintances. His life revolved around the nocturnal. And yet sometimes he still forgot that he wasn’t human himself. Although it should have been a clear ‘us and them’ in his mind, he still struggled to separate, and he struggled to comprehend the fact that humans just couldn’t accept them and move on.

Though when he put himself in their shoes, he started to wonder. How would he have reacted? If he had been a completely oblivious citizen of Harper Rock and the news started to tell him that vampires existed, how would he react to seeing three of them together in a club? No, he always did come to the same conclusion. He wouldn’t be angry. He wouldn’t be afraid, unless they were slaughtering everyone left right and centre. He would be curious. Intrigued, even.

The atmosphere now, however, was not fuelled by someone who was curious and intrigued. Instead, the overly tall gentleman was consciously stirring the crowd. He called them vampires, as if it was something to be disdainful of. He poked and prodded at Myk, and Cosimo stood there wondering why Myk took it, why Myk acted like it actually hurt. Was he trying to prove them wrong? Apparently so. He was denying the accusations, regardless of how smug he looked while doing so.

Only one of the questions asked was one that Cosimo would ask himself. Why was Elizabeth playing chess in a nightclub? Why come here, if she didn’t want to be interrupted? Why come to a place that played music she was not fond of, instead to listen to something else and drown everything else out? All questions to be asked later, to be sure. For now, Cosimo was focused on the crowd, wondering if they would be stirred by the oaf’s leading questions. He most definitely had been a bully while in school, that much was obvious. Rather than accept the things different to him, he would pick them apart and belittle them. Try to make himself larger than life because he couldn’t stand that anyone should be better than him, in any way. He probably made fun of the smart kids, too, to try to make them feel like their abilities were useless because they didn’t have the brawn to back them up.

The three of them were surrounded like they were fugitives. So many faces were glaring at them like they had to explain themselves. And all Cosimo could think was that Elizabeth would have suffered this kind of behaviour once before. Had she done anything to hurt these people? Had any of them? Even with all the advertisements around the place, all the efforts of vampires to make themselves seem like the brothers, friends, family of humanity – as harmless, as people just trying to get through this life like everyone else – they were still being ostracised and treated like criminals. It made the Italian angry. It made him angry and desperate to get Elizabeth away from the crowd, to keep her from any concern that the past would repeat itself, and that they would all be slaughtered by angry mobs who chose not to try to understand.

The fury manifested in a way that Cosimo could not have predicted; when the ground began to rumble, he did not know that he was the one causing it. It started slow, a bass that was out of place with the music that crowed overhead. But then the place really started to shake – the lights from the ceiling crashed to the ground and splintered, scattered, glass lodging itself into the skin of unsuspecting dancers. There were shrieks and screams as the crowd, once preoccupied with the three vampires, were now more preoccupied with saving their own lives.

The building shook, stools were upended, and Cosimo felt the vibration to his core. Realisation vaguely struck when he recognised himself as the epicentre; he was not thrown about like the rest of them. It was as if his feet were glued to the spot. Wide eyes first found Myk, and then Elizabeth. Did they know what was going on? Did it matter? It was a distraction of an epic kind. Maybe, maybe they’d all be able to slip out unseen now. The vibrations began to slow, and Cosimo took Elizabeth’s hand, brushing past Myk as he sought the exit.

”We should go,” he said, hand behind Myk’s shoulders as if urging the man to lead the way; they could form a train of bodies, each not letting the other go until they were free of the rabble.

[Elizabeth]

Everything was so vaguely familiar about this scene, even though centuries had passed. When Elizabeth was a human, had always had the innate ability to know when things were going to happen. Some said she was cursed, others claimed she was a witch, while Elizabeth just believed herself to be sensitive to the world around her. Take for instance, when her father had died...the signs of his death had been looming over the family and the property for months. First, his work started to suffer; the property had overgrown with weeds, her brothers had to do more with the animals in their possessions, he stayed in bed most the day...she just happened to be 'lucky' in knowing the day he would die. The morning she woke, there was a change in the air. The weather seemed colder, the house seemed quieter, and there was an over-looming sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was because Elizabeth never shied away from the negative in life, while others remained painstakingly optimistic; while she danced on the spectrum of realism, that people could not understand her, and most feared her. So when she stated to one of her older siblings that 'papa would be going home soon,' and he died in the early evening that night, she was viewed as an entirely different young girl. One to be cautious of; one to keep an eye on.

Other scenarios over time would crop up from time to time, leading to uneasiness around the young woman throughout the years. Elizabeth was just simply in tune with the world and how it changed and worked. The years she was human, there was little to do when someone got sick to keep them alive. When the earth was dry, it was evident that it was going to be a struggle to grow things that year. And on the opposite side of things, if it rained a lot that year, it was going to be difficult to grow things as well. An unknown scientist at heart, perhaps, but in times where women were supposed to be seen and not heard, yield to the older, and manlier opinions of things, Elizabeth had certainly drawn a lot of negative attention to herself throughout the years. So when people recoiled from her finger, as they had centuries ago when she pointed at Robert Brown who had come by her family property and stolen a chicken off their lands and accused him in front of her family and his (along with some other people in the village), the same sort of reaction had come from them. No one cared that he had indeed stole the chicken, all they cared about was this finger, pointed at their son, and how dangerous that might be. If Robert Brown grew sick, died, or had some sort of misfortune in his life, it was because Elizabeth had brought it upon him, as ridiculous as a notion as that could be. Over time, Elizabeth would be an outcast, her family name tarnished and so when an opportunity to present itself to remove Elizabeth from the city, and from her family, they were all too happy to pack her up and send her on her way. Something she tried to get past and get over, but just never would be able to.

However in this scenario, there were people standing next to her, rather than trying to get away from her. Myk, who seemed pleased with what Elizabeth had done, and the chaos it was starting to bring, and Cosimo who tried to understand what had happened, why it had happened and what he could do to sweep it all under the rug, maybe. Or at least make things not as awful as they actually were. In essence, Elizabeth had just assaulted a guy, racked up a medical bill of a decent size and proportion once he arrived to the hospital and scared a lot of people. As evidence from the guy who was starting to cause a whirlwind of problems for the trio by making a broad leap and claim about them being vampires due to appearances, and the unknown. Much like the times of old. History supposedly repeats itself, does it not?

The outstretched finger slowly recoiled backwards when Elizabeth realized the commotion a tiny, delicate finger had caused, but it was far, far too late. Myk in turn, was now being assaulted from a member of the crowd and Elizabeth ever so badly wanted to poke the male back, but in three fold. But that piece in her other hand, the one her thumb was biting down on almost whispered to her. It was reminding her of taking the higher road, of making the better choice, rather than to follow through with the nefarious thoughts that started to etch their way inside her mind and plant themselves in there. Just how easy it would be to use a power and unleash something dreadful upon the male and the others that presented a potential problem to the trio. There was an inner battle going on inside Elizabeth's mind; what she could do, and what she should do.

Thankfully, she wouldn't have to make a choice, as someone in the group made it for her. The earth started to move from under their feet, the walls of the club crumbling and leaving a fair few cracks from ground to half way up the wall, due to the shift of the earth's surface. Elizabeth knew all too well that it was a mystic trait, for how often does Harper Rock get an earth quake? And having used the power a couple of times in the not so long ago months that had passed, her eyes moved to Cozi. It was possible Myk could have done it, but as he was tied up with Mr. Pokes-a-lot, it was probably unlikely and given Elizabeth knew Cozi was a mystic, it didn't take long for her to deduce who might be behind the usage of the mystic ability.

While people fled to areas in the club that seemed stronger and safer, should walls fall apart, Cozi decided they should make their retreat sooner than later and was pulling Elizabeth along with him by the hand that possessed the finger that had just been the finger of doom in the eyes of the mere mortals. The white queen was tight in her other hand as they bobbed and weaved around others, with Myk in the lead, due to Cozi's desire to put him in the lead. The entrance was just in sight, even through all the chaos of bodies everywhere as they pushed and pulled their way to the door themselves, water from the sinks behind the bar, along with the bathroom sinks and toilets started to slow people's steps due to the increase of weight on wet shoes, socks and pants. Crashing decor along with crumbling foundation also served as an obstacle to everyone, including the trio as they tried to make their way outside to where it might be safer.

Just as they were about to close in on the exit, a panic driven male twice the size of Elizabeth in weight barrelled into the telepathic woman, causing her hand to slip out of Cozi's before she met the wet ground with a thin layer of water on top of it. The Queen piece had fallen from the other hand due to the abrupt knock against her shoulders, and suddenly the world and everything around Elizabeth seemed to slow, and grow quieter before everything and everyone vanished around her. Before she was gone, people might have noticed how the woman was there, then seemed to flicker, much like a light bulb that was on its last legs, then disappear. What remained in her place was the white Queen piece that she had been searching for over shoes that had been trampling by fractions of a second before she vanished.

[Myk]

As easy as it was to detect the hostility in the room, it was plain to see the nonchalance in the white-haired man’s features. One might say that the two were more deeply connected than that, however. As the hostility mounted, the energy flickering from one person to another like an electrical charge, the Telepath seemed repelled, drawing himself further and further away from feeling. It wasn’t a conscious action on his part; he didn’t notice how quickly his personality had shifted from fun-loving to callous, or how his attitude was affecting the bulging man in front of him. Those black eyes were focused on him in that same judgmental glare that they had been used on Elizabeth only moments ago. There was something about that stare which irritated Myk, which made hot flashes of violence appear before his eyes. He imagined launching forward and capturing that stubby digit between his fangs. He would clamp his jaws shut and that little prick of a finger would come right off. Snap. To add insult to injury, of course, Myk wouldn’t want to keep the piece in such a state so that it could be sewn right back on. After he would spit it out, he would promptly stomp on it, crushing it beneath his steel-capped boots. And he would do it all with a grin, with the man’s blood dripping languidly down his lips and chin. They would scream, run away in horror, and it would be utterly delightful…

Myk cursed his luck then when the ideal future was robbed from him. The room began to tremble uncontrollably, like a small child had picked up their world and was shaking it like a snow globe. While the Telepath didn’t know for certain that this was the Mystic’s doing, he suspected that the earthquake was too punctual to be a substance of nature. Cosimo could be jumpy, a little temperamental, but maybe that was a result of the fiery blood pulsing through his veins like Arrabbiata sauce. Myk could sympathise, he supposed – not that he had any time to consider otherwise as he was struggling to keep his balance. The force of the quake had upset the foundations of the building, causing the walls to heave, for the ceiling to crumble above them and descend like the aforementioned snow. The light fixtures came hurtling to the dance floor, scattering the crowd into swarms of screaming ants. The expulsing faucets were making an ice rink of the floor, causing many to slip and slide as they ran for cover. Myk fondly watched as the young Bautista made a dash for the exit too, pushing his way through the crowds he had been so quick to call to his aid. It was rather typical of such men, to be reliant on others only for their use and to dispose of them when that use expired. Bullies were sourly predictable, throwing a wrench into Myk’s want to be surprised. Still, those men weren’t the only source of entertainment, were they.

The Telepath had been surprised by the Mystic’s reaction in general. In his mind, there were less destructive ways to cause a distraction and get them out of the night club. Didn’t all three of them possess tomes? They could have teleported away with no fuss at all, leave the Humans to their confusion, to their convictions of Vampirism. Their kind wouldn’t be able to go on indefinitely with masquerading as Humans when everyone knew the truth. It wouldn’t take long before the trucks rolled out and government forces were sent in to bag and tag. And it wouldn’t be too difficult to separate the living from the undead – just flash a mirror in front of their faces and see if they had a regular reflection. Of course, it wasn’t immediately apparent how common such knowledge was. The questions surrounding the fall of the Masquerade itself were un-ending; why had it happened so suddenly, why had they used the term Vampire, and how much did they really know? In all the club goers’ attempts to out the three of them as Vampires, not one person had grabbed a reflective surface and shoved it in their direction, so, those questions remained unanswerable for the meantime. This was fine, Myk supposed, because he had to focus on the hand at his shoulder at any rate.

The dashing Italian had told him that now was the time to flee. Betwixt a frown, pewter eyes regarded Cosimo and then the Lady. They were holding hands, he’d noticed, with the blonde tucked neatly behind the Mystic’s broad shoulders. As he doubted Elizabeth was the type to hide behind anyone, and was subsequently convinced by the vacant stare she held, he had to assume that this arrangement had been orchestrated entirely by the Italian. Myk had enough presence of mind to keep his eyes from doing a small barrel roll in his skull, but he couldn’t stop himself from being shoved forward by Cosimo’s insistence. That was the second time in so many minutes that the Mystic had put his hand on the Telepath, causing Myk’s nerves to kick awake in an alarming fashion. Ordinarily, he might have enjoyed the contact, maybe teased the other male about the frequency of it and allude to how intimate they could be later if the Mystic was so keen. As it happened, Myk was – strangely – more concerned with doing as he was sodding well told. Startled though he might have been from this mess, he couldn’t deny the Italian had a point when he’d instructed they leave. He was happy too that they would be able to leave together after all, but, this was fast becoming a night that would not bend to his whims...

As they made their way toward the exit, flowing within the surge of bodies like salmon swimming upstream, they hit an obstacle. Or, more accurately, an obstacle hit them. A fleet-footed force of muscle struck the blonde on his way out, sending shockwaves through the remaining trio. The Telepath staggered back and to the right – the only thing keeping him on his feet at all was the sheer luck in finding a table that hadn’t been trampled in the chaos. Myk leant his whole weight against its surface, practically sitting on it, as instinct forced him to look back and take account of his companions. It was both disturbing and amazing to him that in those scant seconds he had managed to lose both of them. Cosimo and Elizabeth seemed to disappear into the crowd, into the endless approach of harrowed faces. As another wave of startled people came rushing by him, part of the ceiling, toward the back of the building, collapsed inward as effortlessly as soggy cardboard. The load bearing beam had snapped from the violent force of the quake, sending concrete, metal, and plaster to shower down. By this time, the power supply to the building had been cut too, making their situation ever more desperate.

It was pitch black but for the fire exit doors which had been swung open, directing the frantic party goers to the streets. Myk was sat with his back to the doors, pewter eyes surveying the faces that came streaming past him. None of them were Elizabeth and none of them were Cosimo. The best thing he could do in that moment was reach out to them telepathically, but he didn’t know what to say. The best thing to be done would be to get outside, but as far away from this scene as possible. For his own peace of mind he would like to ensure that they were safe, but they weren’t obliged to do as he asked. Myk supposed he should stay behind too, to help any of the poor people who had been caught in the crossfire. All thoughts of charity died in the Telepath’s mind rather promptly, however, replaced with the sound of alarms and the strobe-like bursts of crimson and indigo lights. Myk slipped from his place on the table, cloaking himself in shadows as he did so, and decided that retreating would be best after all. Elizabeth and Cosimo were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, and if they were willing, they could meet him later…

“Darlings. I expect that you’re fine, but, I would rather know it,” Myk sent the telepathic message to both parties. “Please let me know how you are. I will be waiting at the Moonlight Lotus Café. Come see me if you can.”