Path of the Vampire forum

His angular features were being gripped, and then he felt lips against his own. Someone else might have mistaken it for a romantic affection, but Az knew it for what it was. Enzo, his brother, seemed to be as straight as an arrow, and he was just saying hello to someone whose blood was like his own. Whose heart was the same dark pit. He bit into his 'younger' sibling's lower lip with just enough force that if his fangs had been out, they would have shredded the skin. And then Enzo was pulling away, leaving Az to his own devices. And the truth of the matter was that Enzo had easily worked his way close to Azraeth. A little common respect, and a brotherly bond could go a long way, after all. The Mystic was open to that same level of affection with any of the Dragomir. With anyone who wanted to be part of his life. More often than not, people held silly little things against him. Ceased talking to him. Broke contact. Little known fact. One of the reasons Az and Nikolae were so close was that they were always there. In the background. Part of each other's lives. They didn't need to see one another every day. They didn't need to profess their love. They simply were there. Irrevocable. Unchanging. If Az called out to Nikolae, he would call. And that was what vampiric bonds should have been made out of.

He felt something similar developing with Enzo, that same fraternity born out of dependability. Time would tell whether or not Az's instincts on the subject were true. Whether or not Enzo would pass through the veil into the world of those who were Azraeth's idols. Nikolae. Mr. Scratch. Though the latter had been gone for years, it would only take his return to reveal the depth of devotion there. Prudence, though they rarely talked these days. Azariel. His brother by birth. Once, Az had wished Perry to be in that exclusive little circle as well, but the man had all but disappeared. And so the Mystic had that tiny group of people he would do anything for, and family above all else. Maybe one day that inner circle would be larger. Many of the newly turned Dragomir showed promise. It's good to see the blood flowing again.

When he was done locking down the building and ensuring that all avenues of escape were essentially blocked off, only then did he let himself get into the moment. He walked with the sedate nature of a wolf amongst sheep. He knew the food would be there no matter how long he played with it, and so he felt no urgency to rush into a kill. Instead, he pulled off his orange sweater with its deep v-neck so he could fold it over, dropping a denim button down on top of it, along with the long sleeved shirt he wore underneath that. Layers were a good way of hiding the fact that he had a low core body temperature. His shoes came off next, and then his jeans. He stood there in his socks and his YOU SHALL NOT PASS boxer briefs with their cartoon image of Gandalf over the groin and the words scrawled across the back. Gray and white. He padded his way towards one of the walls where there was a big round table covered with paints in neon colors. The bowls were all of different styles, and in various stages of cleanliness, so probably thrown together at the last minute so people could load up on color if they wanted. The fluid all glowed in the dark and he reached for a broad brush so he could begin to drag the fibers over his skin, his arms and torso soon glowing with shades of pink and green, blue and yellow. He hummed the entire time, not quite with the music. His legs were painted next. Stripes all over. He looked like the Cheshire cat had dropped some acid.

And that was when he decided to get into the fun. He could hear the dry wheeze of a death rattle even above the music. Someone was dying, and the realization sent a thrill right up his spine in the form of a barely contained tremble. There were so many people there, and the music just seemed to get louder and louder, until it felt basically all-consuming. He would get back with the family soon. It was a bonding activity after all. They were supposed to get close to each other. Touch. Dance. Make the entire place scream with so much force that it shook the walls and drowned out the music. But first there were some warm bodies he wanted to get closer to. The action was spread all throughout. People on stairs. People on concrete. People stomping and the heavy base of the music adding an electric heartbeat to the party. He threw himself at a group of three young women who seemed to have all dyed their hair for the special occasion. Blue. Green. Yellow. Vibrant, but not quite glowing in the way Az did. But it was enough for him to call it fate. His arms slid around one of them for a moment, dragging her closer. He felt warmth and softness crush against him, and he watched the doubletake as she realized he was mostly naked.

Then they were dancing. Because that hesitation turned into motivation, and the outlandishness of the whole thing was just part of the fun. Who cared if Az looked crazy? Everyone there was gripped by their own unique brand of madness. They were all writing bodies and ecstasy waiting to happen. So there he was, his arms and legs moving with all of the grace of a turtle on its back. But nobody cared. They were at a rave. He could get away with flailing around like a mad person. And there were three bodies tucked close. He could feel their mingling body heat. He thought about them. About how they must have been friends. About how, only a few hours ago, they were probably planning to get drunk and dance, and get laid. Maybe one or more of them thought he would be their ticket to that last goal. They were completely unaware as he brought the one right in front of him, the one with yellow hair, drew her close and kissed her. He yanked her head to one side and buried his fangs in her throat. He drank, but for the most part, the fluid spurted over his chest, painting him even more. The thick red juice poured over his skin, stained his underwear and his socks. Red. Everything was becoming red. And the dying girl's friends continued to dance on either side of him, unaware that the trio had become a duo. Unaware that the wolf was hungry and tearing his way through the sheep.