Path of the Vampire forum

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

<Adley Reed> This was what an ordinary night looked like for the photographer.

Adley sat in the front seat of his burnt gold Jeep Wrangler; although there was something else that he craved, he instead ate the usual dinner. McDonald’s. Some nights he went home and made himself a well-balanced meal, with all the required vegetables and nutrients. But, when working and constantly on the road, he needed something fast. Something cheap and easy that could be dropped at a moment’s notice.

He licked his fingers, swallowing the very last remnants of the Big Mac. From the holder on his right, he collected the coke and took a few large swigs, only to let loose a burp as the gas collided in his throat. The scanner on his dash crackled; chattering voices were soon heard, and Adley reached forward to turn up the volume, drowning out the teenagers passing by, roaring about some topic or another.

Listening carefully, Adley was alerted to a code 900. He knew the codes by now; he knew which ones indicated assault, or attempted murder. Those were the exciting ones. On a slow night he followed all the car accidents. Sometimes they were vicious and gory enough for high-selling pictures.

This particular code 900 - attempted murder - had happened just outside of Harper Rock News. There was the irony, really. Hopefully there weren’t any in-house photographers still at work at this time of night. In any case, it was just around the corner. Within two minutes, Adley was at the scene, launching from his vehicle with his Canon EOS in hand. The kicker? He’d beat the police. There were no cars, no flashing lights. Just a woman huddled near a wall with a mobile phone in hand, and her arms wrapped around her shoulders. The witness, maybe. The one who’d called it in. She didn’t matter to Adley.

The victim was in a car. A 2012 Toyota Camry, black. Adley took a photo from a distance before he hastily crept forward. The door was half open, as if the victim had tried to make an escape but had failed. His head lolled to the side, mouth open, face gaunt. His neck was a bloody mess, skin torn from muscle, exposing tendons beneath. The eyes were dim, open, scared. Definitely dead.

It was one of those incidents. Involving vampires. If Adley could gather enough evidence - if he could eventually find out who was here, and what the name was, he could track them down. Blackmail them, maybe. Subtly. Offer his own money and his own silence, but in return….

Greedily, and with professional alacrity, Adley got to work, careful not to disturb the scene as he took as many close-up photos as he could of the incident, from all angles. This would be a good work night.

<Abelle Broussard> Belle was stressed lately, though she would hate to and would never admit it out loud. She loved her businesses with a passion, it was all she had lately; all she allowed herself to have. It was a battle trying to hunt and train and run three places all at the same time...most nights she ended up falling asleep either in the sewers or on her couch, too exhausted to even find the bed. However the past few were spent in her office at the newspaper.

Tonight she knew better that she should probably go home, take a shower and recharge her batteries. Belle packed up the office, hit the lights and slowly made her way out to the lobby. Her new reporter Deagan would be there first thing in the morning and she would be right behind him a few hours later….right now she needed sleep. Rubbing the sleepies out of the corners of her eyes, she squinted them and looked out the front windows. Seemed a bit of commotion going on out front. Not unusual for Harper Rock, but definitely unusual for the location to be right outside the newspapers doors. Where was Deagan? This would have been something he would have died to cover.

Shutting off the lights, she rolled her eyes and stepped out to lock the front doors. Soon the cops would show up and the way she had been going at it in the ganglands slums lately, they wouldn’t even look for the culprit, they would simply start shooting at her. That wasn’t on her agenda for the night. She would poke around and go home. She figured wouldn’t be much to see until she turned the corner and witnessed what looked like to be one of the nastiest accidents she’d seen in the city so far. She would almost feel guilty if she just left, but she didn’t want her sense of wonderment to become foolish. Shifting her weight, she waited to hear sirens and took a glance to see who else might be watching.

She seen the frantic girl, a man passing by who was staring a bit too nosey in her opinion. Why didn’t more people just go about their business, she thought to herself, trying to not call the kettle black. Then her eye caught an over eager, rather good looking guy. It made her smirk. Snack before bedtime? She thought about it for a minute and licked her dry lips. With stealth she worked her way around the scene and would have sunk her teeth into the man’s neck. but noticed he was taking pictures, with as much passion as the photographer had when she had her pictures done for auction.

“Do you belong here?” she said softly as she came alongside of him and tapped him on the shoulder. “You are awfully close to my building…” she looked over at the harper rock news sign and then to him, hiding her baby fangs, beneath her plush lips.

<Adley Reed> The blood-addict was hardly aware of the lights dimming in the establishment behind him. He was focused on the task, getting as many pictures as he could before the authorities arrived. Already he could hear the sirens in the distance; he knew the sound of them well. He knew how far away they were and from what direction. He knew, approximately, how long they would take to arrive. These ones? More than one minute. Less than five. The city’s authorities didn’t take murder lightly. Adley had noticed that these kinds, specifically, were swept under the rug more hastily than the rest. This was the kind of scene where he’d have to get out of dodge quickly, lest they try to take his camera from him. It’s happened in the past, before he was savvy.

The scene was soon obstructed by the presence of another; not another photographer, but a woman. Not in uniform. So not a police officer, unless she was a detective. But she didn’t have that look about her, either. Glancing up, Adley realised she must have come from the building behind them; the Harper Rock News. Her building.

Adley flashed the woman a gleaming smile. He had enough evidence under his belt, now, to afford a little relaxation. “I belong here. It’s a free city. Do I work for your building? No. But I can sell you the photographs for a price - given none of your own photographers are on the scene,” he said. Cocky, as usual. There was a slight narrowing of the eyes, the sly grin lingering on the lips. A silent ‘tsk’, not clucked, written into his expression.

<Abelle Broussard> This was not how she planned her evening once again. Then again, her nights had proved to be a bit mundane, maybe a cocky attitude and a brilliant smile would boost her spirits; that’s if she didn't rip his pretty little head off first. She laughed under her breath for a moment, and felt the tiny urge to sink her teeth in. How convenient this would be? They would find one victim why not two? She sighed as she remembered the stupid masquerade which was one of the only things that kept her from going completely insane in this city.

“Slow down tiger…” she laughed and looked over her shoulder, expecting any moment to see the flashing lights, light up the street. “ No need for the attitude,” she held up her hand in surrender to his defense.

“You won't want to be here, when they get here,” she nodded to the impending sirens. “Come with me...I just might interested in buying those from you after all,” she didn't wait for an answer and walked back toward her building. They could still be nosey while indoors but out of harm's way, especially for her. She was still healing from her run ins with the law. “I hired an amazing reporter the other day...I’m in lack of a decent photographer,” she raised a brow and laughed. “Thats me guessing you’re any type of good of course,”

This was her in a good mood and perhaps a little taken with his fresh attitude, not to mention his good looks. She looked him up and down and decided it wouldn't be his night to die, not by her anyway. She prefered something a bit more innocent this evening. Something inside her knew he would follow and there was something different about him too. He was human sure, but he smelled funny. She couldn't put her finger on it just yet.

Opening back up the front doors, she slipped inside and waited for him to join. Be a good girl Belle, she reminded herself again. It sure was getting harder these days, and security with the law was getting more locked down than before she had left for that year vacation. Nibble nibble...she teased herself and couldn't help but laugh. He would think she was crazy, so she tried to put a cap on the insanity.

“Come,” she called out waiting.

<Adley Reed> Adley shrugged, glancing in the direction of the sirens. It didn’t matter if he was here when they arrived. He just wouldn’t let them catch him, if they saw him. They couldn’t lawfully do anything, not really. Not if he denied taking any photos. Sometimes he put his camera away, out of sight, and hung around like another witness, or a curious passer-by. Sometimes the police officers were not so good with their tongues, and they gave up information they shouldn’t, if asked the right questions.

Adley laughed at the woman’s offer, but he did follow when she suggested that he should. She was leading him back toward the building; he didn’t fear her. Adley didn’t fear much, though he probably should. Nothing bad had happened to him thus far; a cocky man can remain cocky if he was not punished for his misdeeds.

“I’m freelance,” he said as he put the cap back over the lens, looping the strap over his chest and shifting the instrument so it sat just above his hip. He moved swiftly, gracefully, in such a way to protect the camera and to keep it from harm. The woman who’d called in the murder, the one with her mobile phone, was still crouched by the wall. She had seen him, taking the photos, but that didn’t matter. If anyone tried to find him, to track him down, by the time they found him, the photos would long since be copied, emailed, sold. Published, even. There was nothing they could do about it. There was nothing illegal in his actions.

“You’d have to make a pretty good offer to keep me as your employee only,” he said. His tone was deep and yet buoyant, his steps light as he followed. He was cocky enough not to defend his talent. It didn’t need defending.

<Abelle Broussard> Belle closed the door softly behind them and flicked on the lobby lights, leaving the rest of the building shadowed, not wanting to create an extra scene for the cops to be interested in. Freelance, he had said. To her knowledge that meant he did this on his own time for his own pleasure for the most part, getting paid what he could according to what he had to offer. Money. She smiled and motioned for him to follow her into her office.

“I have all the money to keep you employed I’m sure,” she smirked and shook her head. It was crazy how far money could really get a person. She licked her lips and bit down on her lower lip in thought. Letting him know who she was first off would probably be nice and a little less threatening if any, to a possible new “employee”. Where were her manners?

“My name is Abelle...you can call me Belle because most people don’t pronounce my name right and so that bugs me,” her face hardened as she thought about it. “I’ve owned Harper Rock News for a while now...this is the first time I’ve seen anything happen right outside my doors for the most part,” she explained and took a mock deep breath. His scent tickled her nose. What was it? He couldn't possibly be a blood thief, because if he was, she was killing those on a nightly basis. It would be such a shame, especially if he was any good at taking pictures.

“Are you from Harper Rock?” she smiled in question. She could feel her eyes were extra special blue tonight, perhaps because of excitement or because it had been awhile since she had anything to eat. She was on an all blood diet these days...still figuring her way around that. “I came a couple years ago from the states,” she explained with her common lie to anyone that didn’t share the same breed as her. “Florida,” she nodded and liked the new one she picked this week. “I’m from Florida...very nice down there,” she winked and waited for him to answer.

<Adley Reed> Adley watched the woman carefully, brow arched as she introduced herself. He hadn’t misheard, on the steps. She was offering him a job. She continued, after her name, to tell him where she was from. A peace offering, maybe. An olive branch. If I answer my questions before you do, you have no reason not to answer them. In any case, Adley had no reason to keep the answers hidden. He shrugged his shoulders as he settled in the chair that was offered to him, a single glance thrown in the direction of the front doors as the sound of sirens came to a halt in front of the building. Out in the hall, the blue and red flashes intermittently lit up the walls.

“I lived in Nigeria until I was ten. I have lived here longer than I lived there. No, originally, I am not from Harper Rock. But it’s my home now,” he said, his accent mostly Canadian but every now and again lilting unusually. That easy smile still lingering on his broad lips, the structure of his face strong, defined - an easy clue as to his ancestry. What gave him away as different, as a bit of both worlds, was the mocha colour of his skin, but most notably his eyes. Sometimes blue, sometimes green, depending on the light. But they gleamed with amusement, now, lit by the dim light of the office.

“The money has nothing to do with being freelance. In this kind of job… employers don’t like to be implicated if something goes wrong. And besides, I’m not a fan of contracts,” he said. He didn’t want to be tied down by legalities.

“My name is Adley. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Abelle,” he said, repeating the name exactly as she had said it to him, correctly. “But I’m not sure you want me in your employ, regardless of the pleasures.”

<Abelle Broussard> Poor Belle still learning the ropes of speechcraft. She wasn’t shy and perhaps that had been her problem all her life; maybe a little silence in her mind would prove more helpful than not. She felt foolish at the moment in more ways than others. First, she had assumed he wouldn’t know how to say her name; it wasn’t her fault really. He had no idea how many people called her Abel...just like in the bible. Second she assumed everyone could be bought, and that could have very well have been because she lacked in the communication department. Why talk when you can throw checks?

Nigeria. That was perhaps her biggest mess up so far tonight. He was from Africa just like her. They could have actually bonded over something, but instead she lied. Belle lifted her head and softened her eyes, not exactly sure of what to say or how to redeem herself from sounding like a young bratty entrepreneur. There had to be classes on learning how to deal with people and she needed to engage in one fast.

“My family has origins sort of in Africa,” she said slowly, thinking how much she really would have loved to talk about this. Home seemed so far away and yet so close sitting right across the desk from her. “Korea, France and a bit of Africa,” she kept a stare at him as if to say ‘how dare you for tripping me up like this?’ Leaning back in her chair, she tapped her fingers on her desk anxiously, something that was rarely seen or done. Thank god he didn’t know her well enough to detect what was really going on.

“I can understand not wanting to sign your name to anything...I guess” she shrugged much like him and cleared her throat again. There was that damn scent. She had a strong urge to just ask, but how obvious would that have been. “Do you have a portfolio that I could see? Or maybe even the pictures you took tonight?” she had no choice than to change up her approach. If she wasn’t going to eat him, then she may as well cooperate to her advantage at least. “If they are good I don’t mind paying at all.” Fail. Fail. Fail. She rather wished she could kick herself in the butt, but hopefully he didn’t see the disappointment that hopefully was washed away in her expressions that were basically void these days.

<Adley Reed> Within moments, Adley was up out of his chair and rounding the desk. From his pocket he produced a cable with the USB connections on each end - one that he attached to the camera and the other that he attached to the computer currently occupying the desk. After he’d searched, of course, for the USB slot, making himself entirely at home in Abelle’s office. Thus was his nature. Cocky until beaten back, and when he made people angry he had a habit of laughing it off. If they didn’t laugh with him, he made a run for it. If they did? All the better for him.

“I don’t have a portfolio. Given … I don’t go looking for employment,” he said, glancing sideways at Abelle. The slight smile gave away his continued amusement. Why would he need a portfolio when his employment was never long-term? He didn’t need to impress people with the photos he’d taken in the past. They were no longer relevant. He needed to impress them only with what was current. The news that they could use for the next day’s publication.

He didn’t snoop. As soon as the whirring of the computer connected with the little engine in his camera, he clicked on the file in the bottom right hand corner. After every shoot he went home and cleared the SD card - he filed everything on his computer, neat and organised. The only photos on the SD card were from tonight’s scene. He double clicked the first one to bring it up on screen, before standing back and giving Abelle the reins, to flick through them at her own leisure. He stood back, his hands shoved nonchalantly in his pockets.

The first picture was of the car, from a distance, the Harper Rock News building behind it. The second picture - and those consequent - were of the victim. Clear shots. Not too much light, not too little. Pride structured the slope of Adley’s demeanour. His favourite shot was of the victim’s neck; his face still in view, his identity, the fear written into his blank eyes. But the gruesome nature of his ripped open neck there, plain to see.

“One could conclude that this city has a vampire on its hands, eh?” he said. Putting it out there. Oh, he knew about vampires. But he didn’t go ranting about them to other people, lest they think him insane. But he watched Abelle carefully, waiting for her reaction. He had stored away the information as to her origins; there were questions he could ask. Like - how did she end up in America, then? Did she just claim the heritage through her parents without ever having actually lived it? But Adley didn’t talk about his past, much. And he wasn’t about to start now. He preferred to get down to business.

<Abelle Broussard> Her face screwed up in jealousy at first. She wished she could have taken responsibility for that sort of work...the killing that is. Someone sure had themselves a good time. “Mmm,” she hummed under her breath and as he got a little closer, knew immediately what he was, along with the simple fact he had no problem speaking about vampires being in the city. For most it was either taboo or legends to scare peoples kids.

“It could be a number of things really,” she leaned back in her chair and tried her best to hide her fangs that nearly poked her lips to bleed. “Besides if vampires are real, then I’m sure they wouldn’t be so messy and probably cover their tracks a little better,” she explained as she kept staring back from the picture to him. “That’s just my opinion anyway,” her face was dull and lifeless of course, the only thing that saved her time and time again from falling prey to human hunches.

“How much do you want?” she simply said. That question could have went a few ways and depending on his reaction, she would be able to definitely confirm what he was. Those blood thieves did so love to exchange a few dollars for just a few sips of vamp blood. Whenever asked in the past, she had no problem taking her Queenie to the backside of one’s head and pulling the trigger. Tonight just seemed different and she didn’t know why. She tipped her head to the side and studied him. Was she suddenly going soft? How un-killer like of her. The facial expressions that were dancing across her face should have scared him away and if it didn’t concern him by now...well then she supposed she had found someone special to keep around for a while.

“If we have vampires then maybe we have werewolves and fairies as well?” she laughed and closed the file, thinking she knew she had to have his work. He was good...every ounce as good as he said he was. “Just tell me how much and we can talk about...” she tapped her chin and smiled over at him as she paused. “We can talk about exchanging,” nodding she reached for her safe box below her desk.

<Adley Reed> The facial expression was noted. One that was not disgust or horror or even abject curiosity. It was something else entirely; something that contradicted the woman’s rather bland reply to his suggestion about vampires. It wasn’t complete denial anyway, he noted. Instead, it was an if. Which meant she was open to the possibility. He left his camera where it was as he circled back around the desk, re-taking his chair on the other side.

There was definitely something odd about this woman - as if she were fighting to keep her face blank and emotionless but every now and again she lost her control, and he could see the emotions clearly written. They way she looked at him as if he were prey, as if he were nothing to her bit a bag of flesh, blood, and bones. It didn’t bother him. He’d had daggers stared at him before by people who loathed him, wished him dead. The families of the victims of accident or murder; the witnesses at gruesome scenes that couldn’t understand how a man could have so little moral care as to so ruthlessly photograph their deceased family members or friends.

But a man has to make a living somehow. And the public just love the thrill they get by witnessing brutality.

“For something like this, my usual rate is two-hundred per picture. Five-hundred for the set,” he said, spreading his hands over the wood of the desk, palms down, fingers splayed. “There are plenty of other newspapers in this city…” he said. A threat that he could go elsewhere, if she didn’t meet his rates. A man had to eat. Had to afford his rent and his car registration. Some nights were slow news nights. There were ways that he could convince Abelle that she should pay his price. How humiliated would her paper be if someone else scooped this story? A story that started right outside her place of business?

“I would call it a payment, rather than an exchange,” he said. It was the same thing, really. Giving money for goods was still an exchange. But they were not bartering. Her choice of words were a curiosity, however. And Adley wondered what she was getting at.

<Abelle Broussard> Another newspaper would absolutely not have these pictures and if she could help it, none ever would again. He might not have wanted to put his name in contract, but she would give him what he wanted and maybe that would keep him around. She was also tired of playing this guessing game. Was he or was he not a blood thief? She could be direct about it, which was more her style, instead of these cunning questions that were just ending up in circle answers.

“I can do that yes,” she tilted her head and nodded. Instead now of reaching for her box under the desk, she opened the top drawer and pulled out a checkbook instead. “I like the first three actually...I can pay you 600?” she began to write and then looked up at him for a moment with a sly smile.

Her eyes were cunning and that perhaps was one of the only emotions she was still not good at hiding, and she knew it. Caring was not an emotion however. She shrugged and continued to write, her mind whirling with questions, that she hesitated to ask. Her mouth opened slowly and the words seemed to slip right out.

“How much is it by the way,” she shook her head and kept her eyes locked on the piece of paper. “that blood thieves make when they sell their blood?” she looked at him sharply. She dared him to lie, she knew he was one. She could smell it and sense it. She wasn’t a newbie in any way shape or form. Hide if he wanted to...that was fine. He could be tonight’s dinner she didn’t mind that at all.

<Adley Reed> Adley canted his head to the side; narrowing his eyes as she reached instead for a cheque book. What was under the desk? Why had she gone there first, and why had she changed her mind? He nodded as she asked whether six hundred would work - it would do just fine.

The next question was not expected. He’d never done business with a vampire before, but he supposed that it made sense. What with all the things they were capable of - the abilities that he himself could gain, if they were willing to sell - it made sense that one might be able to figure out what he was just by looking at him. Perhaps there were still remnants of the vampiric blood in his system. Maybe his blood was not the same as a regular humans, now - tainted, by all of the magic that he had ingested.

He also knew that some vampires did not like his kind. Loathed them, in fact. Adley didn’t keep company with fellow blood thieves. He’d prefer not to find out when they die. But he knew what the dangers were, which was why he liked to have the upper hand whenever he approached a vampire for that kind of exchange. The conversation had now slipped into international waters and he had to be careful how he proceeded.
“I’m not sure where ‘thief’ comes into the equation,” he said. No, he never liked to refer to himself as a blood thief. Instead, he was a blood addict. “Blood is not sold. It is bought,” he clarified. He evaded the question in regards to price. It was not professional to discuss one’s trade if a deal was not being brokered.

“Am I to assume, then, that these pictures will never be published? Why would a vampire willingly publish a story about vampires?” he asked. By asking her question, she had given away her own identity. Only a vampire, he figured, would be able to know what he was. Only a vampire would be able to… what, smell it on him? He was already mapping the halls to the exit in his head. Figuring out an escape route, in case this particular vampire’s willingness to write a cheque was just a farce, and instead she planned on just killing him.

<Abelle Broussard> Nice. He didn’t deny it after all, but he looked as though he might want to jump out the window at any given time. She understood. He had nothing to fear from her though. Belle was living rogue these days and if that meant breaking some of the rules then so be it. She finished writing the check and and slid it across the table silently. She laughed at the bit about selling and buying blood. After all she was guilty of rarely feeding these days. With the lack of time she simply bought the bags from the shops. Tasted less fresh, but gave her more energy throughout the day to perform more important tasks.

“People love to read,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “ I own a newspaper and sure granted I don’t own the only one in Harper, but no matter what, people will always want to hear and read what’s going on,” she didn’t care if the article had gotten written. Matter of fact she wouldn’t be surprised if Deagan came in first thing in the morning with the top story of the day.

“I don’t care that you’re a blood thief,” she said softly and smiled. “I like money,” she paused and thought about her bank account. “ A lot matter of fact but what I like even more is money that isn’t being traced,” she locked eyes with his, entranced by its beautiful colors. Much like her’s. “Could we make a deal of sorts?” she knew exactly what she wanted out of all this. She could get pictures and he could get his daily ration of blood. It worked out for the two of them. And as long as they both went about their days with no word of this to anyone, it could function for a very long time. Could she trust him though? If he messed up then sure she could kill him, but then she would have some explaining to do to anyone he had told.

“My blood is delicious from what I’m told,” she hummed under her breath and waited to hopefully make a new business deal of sorts.

<Adley Reed> Adley did not take the check immediately. He looked at it, admiring the handwriting, but he did not touch it. A smile curled his lips as his gaze returned to the giver. Abelle. A woman he was slowly learning more about. A vampiress. Willing to sell her blood, it would seem.

“I am more of the opinion, of course, that pictures sell newspapers. Sure, the bold headlines play their part. But I believe people are first drawn to the pictures, before they’re drawn to the words,” he said. Of course he was bias, given his occupation. The smile only spread as he leaned forward, now looking at Abelle not just as a woman who owned a publishing house, of sorts, but as a vampire with blood in her veins. He subconsciously pulled his bottom lip between his teeth; they lacked the sharpness of vampiric canines. But they were hungry, regardless.

“Your blood is delicious? So you… have dealt with other blood addicts, then?” he asked. How else could she know that her own blood was delicious, except from those who have tasted it? That was a question that he would have answered before he made any kind of deal. Why? He didn’t know. What did he care? Unless Abelle wanted this deal to be lasting. For her blood to be the only blood he sought, and his money for such an exchange the only such bonus that she sought.

“How do I know I can trust you, and that you won’t go selling my name to those who would hunt me for fun?” he asked. He remained leaning forward, his elbows against the desk and his eyes sharp. Now he wasn’t just a man on the verge of brokering a deal, but he was also an addict on the verge of getting his fix.

<Abelle Broussard> He was a large man. Perhaps not large in the world of male, but for her his frame towered over her, as she laid back comfortably in her oversized chair. He needed to survive and she loved the feel of control and the smell of money, more than she even liked hunting. So what, he fed on her? She would just go hit up the sewers before heading home and pop a couple of rat heads and suck them dry to make up for it. No big deal.

“Mhm,” she hummed with a wicked laugh under her breath. That was her answer to both questions. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She wanted those pictures to be in Deagan's office first thing, she would be the first one to cover this; plus that extra 200 would be a nice addition to her remodel that studio funds. “Delectable even,” she looked him in the eyes, there was a mock innocence about them even still after all her dark days and states of pure rage and reckless emotion. Leaning up, she cupped the man's face with a gentle hand, and with the other wasted no time in being a bit unorthodox about the feeding method. She was sure most gave their neck like a blood bag with a straw, but she had no intentions this evening of going home with stained and dirty clothes. Baring her fangs, she kept her gaze and pricked the tip of three of her fingers, making the blood ooze rather rapidly. She smeared a finger over his lips to test his self control. “Go ahead Adley...drink...it's ok I wont tell anyone,” she said in a sweet voice. Letting her fingers slip into his mouth, she watched with anticipation to see what he would do. Her eyes were so cold and her stare so blank, she felt a little more dead inside than normal. Her own mind had her confused as to what she was doing. She would never hear the end of it if someone found out.

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


<Adley Reed> The question wasn’t answered, but as soon as the scent of blood filled the air Adley couldn’t care. There was something different about a vampire’s blood. It lacked the heat of human blood, but the atmosphere filled with heat anyway. A different kind of heat. Adley breathed in, the scent of Abelle’s blood touching his tongue even as it was smeared over his lips.

This was not how he expected the night to go. He did not expect to get his fix for… days. A week. More. Until he could track down whoever had murdered that poor sod in the car outside. But here he was, in this office, and how could he possibly resist? She was practically throwing herself at him. Throwing her blood at him, anyway.

Whether he trusted her not, now, was a moot point. His tongue flicked over his lips, and as soon as he got a good taste of her delectable blood he was lost to it. He couldn’t get what he needed from a few little pin pricks, however. He reached up and took Abelle’s hand in his, fingers holding her palm steady as he sucked each finger clean. A mere temptation.

She had not given him an open wound, and he didn’t have the wits about him now to ask for one. Instead, he turned her wrist, delicate side up. And he lunged, his dull teeth sinking into the flesh, biting down hard to get to the blood rushing beneath. The punctures would not be clean. They would be messy. But from what he knew of vampires, they healed. So what did it matter? The blood hit his tongue and he swallowed; a sigh hissed from his nose as a satisfied groan rumbled in his throat. He held Abelle’s arm tight, his whole body seeming to want to coil around it.

<Abelle Broussard> Belle had only let a blood thief drink from her once, and that was back when she started her money obsession. Though they only offered 200 dollars, it had still been money to put in her pocket. Well now she had enough money and was still doing it. Why? Just because she could she supposed. She couldn't blame it on having too much time on her hands, because that wasnt the case at all. There wasn't enough hours in the day to perform the current tasks; now she was draining not only energy but blood as well, causing her to waste more energy in the long run. Think before you act. Her mother’s words seeped into her brain, as she watched Adley rather enjoy himself. She could care less about other’s enjoyment, but there was a satisfaction that she had the power to allow that to happen.

How easy would it have been to let him get a few tastes of heaven and then snap his neck in half? She closed her eyes as she fantasized, even though there was small percentage of guilt that riddled in the darkness of her mind. It was like bad was outweighing the good, wanting her to snap at any given moment. And then she had the most wicked thought, a thought that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. What if there was an army of humans? Blood thieves, sorcerers, paladins...it nearly made her sick to think of such betrayal and mutiny. She was thankful for the pain, Adley created when biting into her wrist, to distract her from foolish thoughts.

Belle gasped and looked down, watching him so greedily drink. He had the same passion for blood as she did, except they were on two opposite ends. Not many things were painful, but a dull puncture to her wrist stung a little and she winced, pulling it away after what she thought was more than a pint or so. Her eyes scanned her desk and noted all the blood the two of them had made. If anyone came in here they would have sworn someone got stabbed. None of this happened the way it did when she first ever did this. It had been on the streets in an alley; now she was feeding a hot blood thief my fingertip in her office. Wow...what a long way she had come. With that thought she smiled and shrugged.

“I haven’t even fed properly today myself...don’t be too greedy,” she looked at him with her cool blue eyes and smiled. It was an actual genuine smile...where in the hell had that come from she wondered. Grabbing a tissue from a never used tissue box that just decorated her desk, she wiped the wound to get up the majority and then used her tongue to lap up what she missed. She wished she hadn’t fired the girls a few days ago...it was moments like these that she needed to demand someone find her a bandage. His teeth were dull but also big, the puncture wound was extreme.

“I need to bandage this up,” she stood and actually felt light-headed. She could use blood boost, but that wouldn’t make the puncture heal any faster and it wasn’t worth it to go into a healing trance. “Do you think you could find me a first aid kit in the employee lounge?” she said calmly. “Please and thank you,” she cleared her throat and held a piece of tissue over the constant drip. All she wanted to do right now was sink her teeth into something warm and fleshy.

To be honest she wasn’t even sure if she could wait for him to go all the way to the employee room on the other side of the building, of course he would have to find it first; and she was feeling nearly sick with hunger. Her hearing was even going fuzzy, hearing the sound of his beating heart across the table. Would it be wrong for her to take some back? Wouldn’t it defeat the purpose? She supposed not.

“Actually…” she shook her head and held up her hand to stop him from leaving too quickly. Finding whatever strength she had left, she pushed herself to grab for his arm, pulling him toward her. It wasn’t her intention to scare him, but if she did she would apologize later. Right now she needed this more than anything.

Belle grabbed his shirt, captured his eyes with her own, and for what would have looked like was going to be an intimate moment, she eagerly pulled him close to her, her tiny body somehow making its way over the desk. “Hope you don’t mind,” she whispered and let her sharp fangs make a clean cut into his neckline. She had control, but there was something about his blood...maybe it was that it was tainted with other vampires’ blood, that made her groan at the new taste. It was overwhelming.

<Adley Reed> The high was almost instant. It didn’t matter that Abelle pulled her hand away. Adley didn’t stop her; he didn’t lunge after it as it disappeared. He’d got what he needed. He slumped in the chair, head fallen backwards as he sighed, allowing his body to absorb the new power he had just consumed. It was strange, the way the different paths affected him. The way, the more vampires he took from, he could pick up the subtle nuances. As if the synapses rewired themselves according to the specific abilities that vampire was ‘born’ with. Abelle’s blood caused Adley’s eyes to dilate, his nostrils to flare, his whole body infused with latent violence and the urge to… kill. Killer. Now he knew more about this petite, strange woman. The reasons, perhaps, why she acted the way she did.

When she spoke, he lifted his head. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath; the first few minutes were always a little sketchy. His body took time to adjust to the new power. It was an instant, heady high, and he had to focus on what she was asking him. He found himself leaning forward again, eyes drawn to the blood spilled on the desk. Before he even knew what he was doing, his fingers were swiping through that blood; he brought those fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, even as she was asking him to go get bandages.

When he got his wits about him, he’d apologise for the mess. He’d tell her that he was working on it - trying to hone his own skills so that he could permanently adopt certain vampiric qualities. Like sharp teeth that could make neat incisions so that the wound isn’t so… severe.

It took his brain a few moments to comprehend that he would have to get up and go for a walk. He’d planted his feet on the floor, preparing himself to stand, when he was stopped; his shirt was grabbed and Abelle came close; as if she were about to kiss him, and a stupid, goofy smile spread over his bloodstained lips. As if he’d welcome it. He could imagine swiping everything to the floor, camera and computer be damned. There was a new strength burning in his limbs and he wanted to test it, see if he could rip this vampiress’s shirt with his bare hands.

Except, she didn’t kiss him. Instead, she lunged for his neck, and he didn’t have the wits or the time to stop her. Not that he’d have been able to, anyway. The position was slightly awkward, what with the desk between them; at first, Adley’s hand reached around, fingers curling into Abelle’s hair as if he was about to try to physically tear her free. A gasped shout jumped from his lips as the bite took him off guard. Once she’d got started, however, he realised… well, it didn’t feel so bad. Maybe it had something to do with the numbing properties of a vampire’s bite, but damn. ****, it felt good. He laughed, then, his breath hot against her neck. One hand smeared in the blood on the desk to help keep his own balance; the other fingers splayed at the back of Abelle’s head. He turned his face into her neck, his own teeth grazing at her skin, but he doesn’t bite. Maybe he will, if she keeps going. If she tried to kill him, he’d fight back. But for now… for now he’d just let her have her way.

<Abelle Broussard> Careful Belle. She had to remind herself over and over. Careful. Don’t kill the man. Don’t you dare drain him...you’re not a newbie. Her thoughts were fighting hard with her desires. And what was her desire exactly? To feed right...to get her fill and send him on his way, wrap up the evening and head for home and go to bed. It should have been that way, and she wished it was, but there was something else stirring deep down that she couldn't shake. Predatorial maybe even. It was new and she almost wasn't comfortable with it.

Most human feedings were quick and rather painless for both parties involved and on most nights she took one or two sips from random strangers and was full maybe even for a day or two. Tonight she was extra hungry and her fangs proved that as they buried themselves deep within his skin. She could hear his heart beating and feel the vein pulsating into her mouth. Maybe it was the whole scene, it was like something out of a horror movie with a strong sexual nature behind it. Blood stains and lust, for whatever it was they both lusted for. She wasn't even sure anymore, she wished to god she could think straight.

Feeling his fingers against the back of her neck, gave her a sense of calmness, as little as it may have been. She too let her fingers release his shirt and travel up to his neck, tilting it just a little more to the side to be greedy just a little more. She exercised control however with as much strength as she could. Her sucking slowed down, maybe not to his knowledge but she knew what she was doing. Closing her eyes, she leaned into him slightly to balance herself and flickered her tongue across his neck now...her fangs extracting from his tender flesh. She let her lips linger there for a moment as she was in a state of shock. Moving was not an option at the moment, her entire body tingled with her restored energy. She loved this feeling normally and normally it was a normal feeling, but right now she literally felt like life was flowing through her. It made her laugh just a little against his neck.

She wasn’t sure what to say or do, so she pulled away slightly and leaned up to press a tiny kiss to his lips. “ I am so sorry,” she pressed a finger to her lips and backed away, her eyes roaming the room wildly, looking at the type of mess they had made. “I was just...I was starving,” it was unlike her to apologize for anything especially feeding and maybe she wasn’t apologizing for the feeding part but for the obvious passion behind it. Her eyes flickered up to meet his in confusion.

“I haven’t eaten for days…” she still fell over her words as she stood there looking like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar. “I’m just...yeah,” she gave up. What more could she say? She felt amazing and guilty at the same time, but mostly amazing and that is what had her confused. He was human she wasn’t supposed to find them amazing in anyway shape or form.

<Adley Reed> Adley’s brain flip-flopped between addled ecstasy and spiked concern. Killer, he reminded himself. The woman was a killer, for crying out loud, and he was just letting her latch onto his neck? He should have been fighting her, fighting this, but he was always up for new experiences. Besides which, there was something about the atmosphere that calmed his fear. The way it fizzed with a kind of passion rather than with rabid murderousness.

His body remained tense as she fed, his fingers curling into her hair and releasing it several times as he inwardly argued with himself. Pull away or not? Risk the possibility that by doing so, she could tear half his neck away as well? Of course he was far too out of it to actually make a solid decision, and soon enough she pulled away of her own accord. And he was still alive.

When her body recoiled from his, he felt dizzy. Not so much because he had lost too much blood, but because his body was still dealing with all the different sensations and highs. It was fighting the urge to black out, he assumed - he had heard about the way a vampire’s bite could affect a human. The way they lost their memory, and woke up with no clue as to what had happened to them. He himself had never been bitten by a vampire, and he wondered… if he closed his eyes, was that what was going to happen to him? But it didn’t. Maybe it had something to do with the vampiric blood he had just ingested. It helped to fight the poison in her bite. But it still left him feeling like he’d just taken a couple of rounds of morphine.

That was the reason why he didn’t immediately respond to the soft kiss she pressed to his lips; the previous strength was temporarily dulled, and instead of following through with those lustful urges, he instead fell back again, stretched out in that chair like it was the most comfortable chair in the world. Head fallen back again, a slow but happy laugh bubbling from his throat.

Abelle was apologising to him. Sure, the attack was unprecedented and she hadn’t given him much warning. She hadn’t asked, really, or waited to see if he minded. But… he lazily shook his head side to side. The Adam’s apple jumped in his throat as he swallowed and licked his lips. “That… was ******* fantastic,” he breathed. Where Abelle sounded ashamed, Adley had absolutely no problem telling a woman that she’d made him feel good. There was no shame in feeling good. He laughed again.

“Maybe… maybe we can call that payment even tonight, though,” he says. A joke. “Though I feel like I should be paying you…” he breathed. If he were thinking correctly, he’d have realised that it might not be the right thing to say. But his head is spinning, and he just… wants to sit. Just for a little bit.

<Abelle Broussard> She was still in shock, still standing in the same place, just watching him fall back into the chair and laugh like he had done this a million times, thought she was aware that he more than likely had not, given his facial expressions. “Hmm,” she hummed softly, trying to find the muscles back in her face. My god what was she going through? He was human was all she could keep thinking. Humans were food and humans were good for business. That’s what this was...business. She gave him blood and he gave her pictures. But that’s not what this just was...not at all.

“You can’t tell anyone,” her eyes widened as she began to come to her senses once again. Her I don’t give a **** about what anyone has to say attitude, just hit her like reality. “You can’t tell, not a soul…” she looked over at him and waggled her finger, which she realized was rather juvenile. If he did indeed tell anyone and her kind found out….if Chain found it...She held her head up high, even though she was feeling guilt running through her veins.

“You have to promise me,” she thought about threatening his life, but it wasn’t all his fault. None of this was either of their faults exactly, it just sort of happened that way. Sometime blood and lust were one in the same. This was not the first time this ever happened in history and sure not the last time. “Promise me that Adley?” she reached down to pick up the tissue box, setting it on her desk as though that was the most important thing to worry about right now.

Belle walked over to him, where he rested so comfortably; ran her fingers over his head and ran one single finger over his neck where she had bitten. It would heal soon and unlike hers the incision was clean. She rested both hands on his shoulders now and sighed. “It was ******* fantastic…” she laughed under her breath and patted his shoulders before resuming her normal attitude. She had temporarily lost her mind and she was aware that this was happening to her more and more, tonight shouldn’t have really surprised her, especially not with him. My Adley. She thought to herself and hid the smile behind cold eyes once more.

<Adley Reed> Adley didn’t see the wag of her finger. He was too busy laying there with his eyes closed, revelling in the contradictory sensations coursing through his limbs; the new power and strength dancing with the temporary lethargy. He stayed still as she repeated it, several times: don’t tell anyone. Who was he going to tell? He knew a few guys - other freelancers that he kind of got along with, but they were all working the same jobs. There was rivalry. They weren’t really friends. Just acquaintances. People he had a beer with every now and again.

There was his mentor, of course - the one who taught him about the ins and outs of being a blood thief. Trained him. Saul. But Saul wasn’t really a friend. He was more of a teacher. A parental figure. Someone to go to when in a tight spot or when advice was required. Saul would advise against this kind of thing, Adley knew; the goal was to get vampire blood, not to let them take his. None of them had ever attacked, though. Most gave over their blood begrudgingly, as if they loathed his kind. And wouldn’t even think of sinking their teeth into him. As if he were infected. Rotten.

The smile lingered on his lips. A cocky smile, if ever there was one. Highly amused. When he felt Abelle’s hands on his shoulders, his eyes opened with a slow blink. He looked up at her; her blood affected his senses. His eyesight was heightened. Her face was crisp, now, against the backdrop of her office. She really was a beautiful thing to behold. Adley had noticed it before, but hadn’t stopped to consider it.

“I won’t tell anyone, only if you agree to let me come back,” he said. It was a lie. He wasn’t going to tell anyone. Most people wouldn’t believe him. He didn’t talk to other blood thieves. And to tell anyone would be to give away his own secret, too. Why would he put himself in that kind of danger? It would be stupid to tell anyone. But he felt like he had an advantage. And he wanted to be able to come back. To make this… ******* fantastic thing a regular thing. He half shrugged his shoulders, a mock frown curling his full lips.

“Unless you think it was a mistake…” he said, as if they’d both just performed some enormous sin. His eyes remained open, gazing up at Abelle. His skin was bleached of blood; the starkness of it helped those eyes of his to stand out, coupled with the vampiric blood keeping him robust. They were like gleaming gems. Gems filled with glee.

<Abelle Broussard> Even though she had felt as though she had collected herself enough to perform normally, she knew she hadn’t. This evening would be stuck in her brain for probably an eternity. It just held a strange sense of...she guessed she could say belonging. They both had something over the other, though they really had nothing. There was nothing really to fear and somehow she knew he wouldn't tell anyone. Dirty little secret? Well she wasn't really fond of them either, so she would call it a personal matter. No one had to know about all the personal matters in her life.

“It’s not a mistake,”she answered back so quickly that it shocked her. “I mean…” she rolled her eyes and painfully pulled her fingers away from his head. She walked slowly to sit on the edge of the desk, facing him. “I’m a vampire Adley...vampires don't generally get on with blood thieves,” this was worse than having the “talk” with a child. This was just awkward. She found it a little comical as well. “This wasn’t a mistake I promise,” her tone and demeanor had changed completely and she barely even realized it as her voice softened at the mention of his name. What in the hell was going on?

“You may come back of course, but just send me a text before you do,” she reached behind her and grabbed a pen and piece of paper, jotting down her number she held the paper in between her fingers and looked down at him questioningly, still trying to figure out what had just happened besides the obvious. He broke down some sort of wall and she wasn't sure to appreciate it or be scared. “Our time should be private no one needs to know what we do,” she smiled and walked over to meet him, stuffed the paper into his pocket and kissed his cheek. His lips were enticing, oh god were they, but tonight she needed time to process all this.

“If you ever need someplace to go,” and there was her words moving before her mind. She knew offering this to him was probably the wrong thing to do, but again he seemed to have that hold on her already. She would figure it all out later. “If you are ever cold or need a place to stay...my apartment is open for you,” she quickly redeemed herself as she held up her hand. “I am rarely there mind you. I sleep a lot in the sewers and a lot of time at one of my businesses. She was lying. Why lie? She didn't know. She knew damn well that her nights consisted of hunting, business and then home in her bed or slumped on the couch exhausted. “Just text first ok,” shaking her head she moved her way back to the other side of the desk, where she plopped into her chair and closed her eyes, her head leaned back in confusion. “Yeah...just text or something,” she wanted to cry and giggle, dance and throw objects at the same time. This added to the ongoing issues she was already having understanding her new brain.

<Adley Reed> Adley was enjoying every single moment of this. This woman who had previously been so straight, so bereft of emotion and now she seemed flustered, awkward - quick to clarify. Adley kept his gaze glued to her as she moved; he sat up a little straighter, feeling the absence of her proximity.

She sat in front of him like she was the principal and he was a schoolboy being scolded. Except he was a schoolboy who’d just had sex with the principal and she was only just now realising it was a mistake, and could ruin her career if word ever got out. It thoroughly amused Adley, he was unable to keep the grin from his lips. He looked like the cat that had got all the milk. The whole situation was enticing; the way she basically told him that they were not suited but still agreed that he could come back. A phone number, too. And an apartment! The grin only broadened. Obviously, he had no problem being someone’s secret.

Although he nodded, he knew he probably wouldn’t text. She repeated it several times. Maybe he would - but not to tell her that he was coming to see her. He had her number, and there were numerous things that he could do with her number. Her lips touched his cheek and he turned his head; he’d have hooked his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her lips instead, but before he could, she was moving away. Way away. All the way to the other side of the desk. He liked to think she did it on purpose, because she couldn’t trust herself to be so close. He was a man with an ego.

“All they need to know,” he said, gesturing to the offices beyond this one, “Is that I am your new photographer. I have an excuse to be here,” he said, already imagining numerous office romps. He’d still be freelance. But the punters didn’t need to know that. “Who knows when a story could break? Any time. I could walk through those doors at any time, and they couldn’t question it,” he said. Basically telling her he might just accidentally forget to text.



“Got an address for that apartment of yours?” he asked, reaching into his pocket for the piece of paper, wondering if she’d so happened to write down that address, too. Not that he needed any place to go. He had his own apartment. It was warm and cosy, even if it was small. But here was a beautiful woman handing him her number and inviting him to use her apartment. How could he not read into that?

<Abelle Broussard> She seen that look in his eyes and couldn't help but laugh. She actually laughed and didn't take his head off for being snarky. Raising a brow she knew he probably wouldn't understand where she was going with all these facial changes. Hopefully one day he would understand. For now she would have to keep him at bay, at least until she figured things out. God why didn't they make vampire psychologists? Probably because vampires had a habit of running their mouths. She looked him over more seriously now.

“Deagan my reporter uses my office, it's already been promised to him; but I can make one of the offices in the back for you,” she tapped her fingers on her desk. That meant a small renovation, which meant spending a little money. That part didn't make her happy at all. She felt she would bare through it however, not sure why but she would. She had this odd soft spot for him.

She began to think. Even though she was changing, her certain morals never changed. Lying to cover up an entire situation was one thing in her eyes, lying directly to someone wasn't. It could cause problems down the line. And even this plotful lie would come to recognition eventually. It would hurt people. It wasn't what she wanted. Oh god feelings...she moaned and rubbed her face with the her hands.

“I feel I need to tell you something,” she groaned again and looked over at him. He was special, she knew this. She didn't want to hide anything from him. “I am more or less married,” she spoke softly, hoping he wouldn't rage out and then she’d be forced to kill him...she thought anyway.

“I slept for a year, maybe a little less and he thought I wouldn't return, so he left,” she explained. “ I felt wounded and feel wounded still that no one tried to wake me,” her hands shook in anger. “I realize that maybe I am wrong to think this way, but even now I haven't told anyone that I have returned...not even him,” she closed her eyes and could swear if she said another word she would either cry or start flipping desks and chairs. It wasn't something she wanted him to see and so she went quiet. She just shook her head and stared, waiting for an obvious negative reaction and rightfully so. They had shared a rather intimate moment.

<Adley Reed> Adley opened his mouth to reply; to tell her he didn’t need an office. His car was his office. What was he going to do with an office? He had absolutely no requirement for one. He had his own laptop, and he had his camera. Both portable. If he needed somewhere to sit he’d just come perch on this side of her desk. Because why not? He had absolutely no notion that she might want some personal space. Besides, he’d probably come around during the day. And she would sleep during the day, right?

But then she groaned and put her head in her hands as if she were struggling with some internal battle, and Adley shut his mouth again. Waited for her to continue; curious as to what she had to say.

More or less married, she said, and a slight frown creased Adley’s brow. That was just the initial reaction. As she continued, however, the frown smoothed and his casual grin returned. That ****-eating grin. The cheshire cat grin. He probably shouldn’t have been grinning when she was so obviously upset. Tortured, even. But Adley saw an opportunity, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take it.

The drowsiness had mostly worn off. His body was no longer fighting against the urge to pass out. The vampiric blood had taken complete hold of his cells and the restless energy beat with the rhythm of his heart. He stood and stretched his arms over his head, silent for the time being. He sauntered around to her side of the desk, where he bent down to retrieve the camera from her computer, leaving the three images that she required on her desktop. The cheque that she had handed him earlier was ruined - covered in spilled blood. He had completely forgotten about it, and he didn’t want it.

“The way I see it…” he said. “You were so bored with him that you… well you slept. For a whole year,” he added, turning that cheeky grin toward the woman, gazing down at her from where he stood beside her.

“This changes nothing. It just makes you a bit of a challenge, right?” he said. Casually, he leaned forward. Fuelled by recklessness, high on the night’s activities, he pressed a longer, lingering, more intimate kiss to Abelle’s lips. A kiss she wouldn’t have time to react to, before he released his hold on her neck and stepped backward. Circled back around the desk, adjusting the strap of his camera over his shoulders.

“See you soon, Abelle!” he said cheerily, careful to pronounce her name correctly before he beat a hasty retreat, headed for the street where he would slip past the police and jog to his car.



<Abelle Broussard> She never expected his reaction. Not in a million years. She didn't expect the words to come out of her mouth, rather hurtful at that. Was he serious? He knew nothing about her, nothing she had been through and nothing she felt on a daily basis. How dare he? She thought about snapping his neck and ending her new found obsession, but she couldn't do it. She actually let him walk out the door without a word. Only her eyes moved around the room for the first couple of seconds, her body still as literally a dead person. Blinking a couple times, she felt the tears roll down her face. She wasn't sad, she barely felt sadness anymore. It was rage.

Swallowing hard, she attempted to pull her knees to her chest, but that lasted no more than mere seconds as well. Instead she sat up straight and drew a little little line through the blood. Funny enough she thought about how hard this was going to be to clean up. She made a weird sound in the back of her throat as she stood up, with full intentions on letting it go...just let it go Abelle. He didn't mean it. But she knew he did deep down.

Casually she walked around to the other side of the desk, and that switch. The one that so often lately was flipped on? It hit her like a lightening bolt, just like an electrical current. Closing her eyes, the tears kept rolling freely. Looking down at her hands, she watched them shake and with no further warning, she grabbed the edge of her desk and flipped it so hard, the computer found its way into the floor, the remaining blood splattered the walls and she screamed so loud she was sure they could hear it next door at Nightmode. She couldn’t stop she had to let it out. Grabbing the chair she threw that as well, this time not so lucky with her aim. The chair managed to find its way right out the window. Which in turn made her more angry. Anything she could find went flying, hands and fists into walls, items already broken strewn across the room. This kept up until there was nothing left to ruin. She let out a grunt and yelled at the window.

“Stupid ******* window...**** you,” she grabbed her coat and decided the front door was too much work and took the window way out. She would have to call a repair person tomorrow, but for now she needed to go home and regroup. Seriously regroup. This was bad, very very bad. She had never lost it like this before. It was months of anger built up. Aggression she didn't have the chance to exert. How did a little blood thief have the power to do this? How dare she let him? She used her celerity to get her home safely and instantly. She would sleep this off and give her Adley a little surprise visit soon enough.