Path of the Vampire forum

Posted: **01 Nov 2015, 23:53**

The Mechanic was leaning back against a damp wall in the sewer, half resting against a large sewer grate to her right and the open space to the left was dry. She had sat down long enough to realize that she had lost her keys and the half a pack of cigarettes she once had in her back pocket of those denim jeans were now gone.

Her bloody hands shook, one hand having reached up to hold onto the steel grate as if she were attempting to get her bearings. Hours had passed. Days might have passed. She was no longer sure of what time it was. She had left her watch with her things in the backroom of Auto Docs. She had given Brock a note, stating that she needed time.

Brock would give her the time without question. He was a man that never questioned and helped the young mechanic with anything she needed - advice, guns, and money for her time and work put in. She had worked hard to make sure that her boss, who had given her a job when no one else would, knew how much she appreciated him. He paid her well, yes. But she was worth her weight in auto parts - that much was sure.

Grey leaned her head back against the damp cement wall. Her hair was long since it was pulled back into a messy bun, blood soaked the side of her right face with what looked like chunks of skin might have once been torn from bone. Her clothes half clung to her skin. Her jeans were barely recognizable as blue denim and closer to an awful night camouflage. Her chest heaved. Grey sucked in a deep breath and her eyes rolled back into her head.

Still, no voice sounded.

Her head. There was so much pressure there. It was a constant ache, brought on more so now due to the blood loss. The knife sat upon her lap, the carvings of it intricate and easily duplicated. However, it was dull from years of being passed from one owner to another or forgotten in a box of belongings. It was caked with blood, old and new. The new, of course, held the very potent Fforde blood. The blood that Grey had craved from her Sire... From her Host.

Blood still ran from her wrists. The dull, aching throb there was the only other pain besides her head that she could feel at the moment. With each clench of her arm, with each flexion of her muscles there, the blood seemed to spurt a little more from the self inflicted wounds. The emaciated brunette didn't really want to kill herself. She didn't really expect the Shadow Realm to come and swallow her whole. No, she just wanted the blood out. She wanted the lies to leave.

Grey was bleeding him out. Jesse might have made her, but he wasn’t allowed to stay inside of her. She refused to stomach any more of his blood. She had cut him out, sharply and with an assassin’s stealth. Jesse deserved Clover.

He chose her.

Posted: **02 Nov 2015, 00:15**

The sound of the telepaths footsteps echoed through the walls of the sewers. It had been a long time since she had left the four walls of the crypt. She had been reluctant to leave, she was a recluse now that barely spoke with anyone besides Judas; her husband and perhaps a select few at that. Golden tresses of hair was sticking to her skin as she turned another corner.

It had been so long since she had stretched her legs it felt welcomed. Her gun was in one hand, a small rapid fired uzi that packed more than a punch. It was the type of gun Mora cherished. It was a gift from Olive, before she had vanished on the small telepath. Her little firecracker had vanished on her without a single trace. It was karma really, considering she had done the same to Olive a little over a year ago.

Her other childer liked to hover around Mora in the crypt, considering she never left. Where as her little bratlings, as she liked to call them did leave on a daily basis to train. Mora on the other hand liked to lounge around in bed, attending to her businesses from the laptop most of the time. In her fluffy PJ’s whilst Judas liked to go train. Mora needed a new hobby and she was slowly finding a new one, she had found a knack for stealing, as odd as it was considering Mora’s current mindset.

Moss orbs veered another corner as she could smell blood, it was faint at first - non human, she began to follow the scent towards its location as she turned her eyes around to look for any Paladin’s that were trying to get a shot off at her, most Paladin’s shot at vampires on sight, she had received a bullet wound in her shoulder not so long ago, it wasn’t anything major she had been able to shrug it off as a flesh wound, it took more than that to take her down. The Paladin on the other hand had met an untimely end.

Another corner turned and she came across a brunette slumped against a wall. She used her burning touch to illuminate her palm to see a little better, only to find that the woman had cuts on her wrist, self inflicted possibly. Forest hues looked at this woman as she knelt down beside her.

“What happened?” She asked calmly, gently. Mora had this way when she spoke - it usually calmed people. Mora was a gentle soul, perhaps too gentle for this world of nightmares and blood, but she was no stranger to death and the monsters this world held.

Posted: **02 Nov 2015, 00:38**

Grey had barely registered the sound of someone drawing closer. She couldn’t even really comprehend that the footsteps were cautious and quiet, echoing in the small entryway of the sewer’s most recent dead end. As Grey’s muscles clenched all over, another quick gush of blood seemed to rush out of her wrists, splattering along the bottom of the already wet floor caked in decayed muck and debris.

Her fingers coiled around the grate, knuckles clenched and let the pale skin surprisingly able to be blanched more. At least, of what wasn’t already caked in dirt, coated in Zombie ash, and splattered with blood. She scooted closer to it. Instinctively, Grey seemed to recoil from the appearance of the woman next to her. Her mind wasn’t completely coherent. Thoughts were jumbled and emotions were void.

Grey knew that the woman spoke. She could hear the words that came from the lips of the woman’s mouth. But, Grey opened her mouth. She couldn’t reply. She couldn’t seem to formulate a response.

"What happened?" Echoed in Grey's head.

I have an addiction to my Sire’s blood, who is also my recent ex-fiance. I just finished cancelling all of our wedding plans and when he acknowledged the breaking of our deep bond, the connection between us dissipated and I left my engagement ring with him because it is no longer mine. I detest one of my … siblings, and the oldest’s prediction came true. I’m worthless and a failure and I can’t go home because now I don’t have a home.

Grey’s lips closed with a soft exhale. Her breath stunk. She had been surviving on rats until she … didn’t care anymore. She had cut her wrists, effectively bleeding out the addiction inside of her and what she had barely managed to replace with a few of the creatures scurrying around earlier.

Grey’s pale blue eyes just blinked at the woman. Her eyebrows knitted together. As if she tried to get the words out, but they remained caught deep in her throat.

Posted: **02 Nov 2015, 16:59**

I’m so sick of that same old love
That ****, it tears me up

The bass vibrated the walls of her studio, causing the mirrors to tremble violently as she took a deep breath. She studied her lack of reflection for a moment, her hands brushing over her skin. Even after all of this time, she still hadn’t adjusted to not seeing herself. She had mastered the art of doing her make-up and hair without the use of a mirror, and she knew that she did a damn good job of it. Of course, even if she hadn’t she wouldn’t have given a ****. She wasn’t alive to please anyone – she had made that clear a long time ago. She was there for Mora and her family. She was there, because she still had fight left in her. Brushing her hair back from her face, she spun from the mirror as the song continued to play.

The lyrics left her raw, and she knew that she had pushed herself to her limits. Even as a creature of the night, she still had her restraints. “You left me in pieces,” she sang along as she closed her eyes, allowing the lyrics to twist through her veins. When are you going to let this go, mija? The quiet voice brushed across her ear, a whisper on the wind, and she shook her head. “You know I can’t do that, mami.” As if she could feel the scorn from the ghost, she quickly grabbed her jacket and tossed it on before freeing her cell from its case. Pulling her hair from the back of her jacket, she quickly read through her missed messages and sighed. She couldn’t leave for twenty minutes without someone freaking out. “I’m not a ******* ticking time-bomb,” she muttered under her breath before opting to not respond as she slid the phone into the waist of her black yoga pants.

Slipping out into the night, she braced herself for the chill as she slammed the door closed, making sure to listen for the click before she locked up. Twirling the key around her finger, she headed down the deserted street and hummed the remaining lines of the song. She hated that she couldn’t let go of her ex. She hated that she couldn’t forget what he had done to her – to them. She wanted him to suffer for what she had went through, and yet it seemed as if no one really understood her thirst for vengeance. They were too worried about her mental stability, and she couldn’t stand it. She didn’t need anyone to look out for her, she didn’t need to be babied or coddled. She could handle anything. She had proven that time and time again, hadn’t she? No, what she needed was for him to regret ever betraying her. She needed for him to scream – and she needed for her ‘best friend’ to watch.

“Hey, watch it!”

The slurred voice broke through her thoughts, and she quickly snapped her gaze towards the cause. The man could barely hold himself up, his hand pressed to his brow as he glared at her. His face was grotesque, his eyes glazed – and his stench made her stomach twist. “God, do you own a shower?” The words slipped out as she took a step back, holding her hands up as if that would hold off the odor. She knew the moment she spoke it would have been a mistake, but it was one that played right into her hands. Almost instantly, the man lunged for her, his drunken state not allowing him to think anything through. That’s what whiskey will do to you, ******, she though acidly as his hand flew for her face.

With a quick twist, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, the sound of snapping bones filling her ears. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered as she gripped his head with her free hand. Yanking backwards, she paused a moment before sinking her fangs into his throat. Did she really want the taste of this guy on her tongue? He hadn’t bathed in days – hell, probably weeks. She could easily find something better. When he began to fight against her, his lewd comments echoing through the street, she shook her head. “You should have just shut up.” Without another warning, she tipped her head forward and pierced his skin. His blood was foul – his skin was worse. It took all she had to refrain from gagging as the warmth of his life source slid down her throat.

“Oh god.”

With a muttered oath, she shoved the man away from her, watching as he sank to his knees on the pavement. You’re done. Walk away, Rain. Walk. Away. The voice echoed through her mind as she studied him, his bent posture, the way he gurgled as he held the side of his throat. She should walk away, she should leave him there, sprawled on the sidewalk like the drunk he was – but she couldn’t. What if he was like all the others? What if he prowled the streets for innocent women? No, she couldn’t let someone else meet the fate she had that night. Snapping her teeth together, she pulled her gun from beneath her jacket and pressed it to the back of his head, her thumb clicking off the safety. “Say goodnight, ***********,” she purred, the report of her gun echoing off the walls as she sprayed the cement with blood and brain matter.

She didn’t bother to watch the life fade from his eyes.

Leaping onto the trunk of the nearest car, she jumped and grabbed the awning of the building and pulled herself up to the roof. Her sneakers made no sound as she moved, her pace quickly taking her through the blocks as she leaped from building to building until she finally reached her destination. Making sure no one was around, she jumped into the center of the road and quickly bent, peeling the manhole cover from its position. No one could have followed you, mija. You’re safe. Yeah, she’d believe that when she was home with Mora and Judas – and not a moment before. Pulling her hair into a loose bun, she eased herself into the sewers, trying to ignore the smell of death as she pulled the cover back into place.

No sooner had she shrouded herself in darkness, than she caught a familiar scent of the putrid decay. “What the **** is she doing down here?” Her voice was a harsh whisper as she closed her eyes and concentrated on the lure of her sire’s perfume. Following the trail, she kept to the shadows until she saw her halo of blonde hair. She stood out like a light in the stark darkness, and she didn’t bother to mask the sound of her approach. She figured the other had known she was there the moment her feet touched the ground. “You find us another stray, mami?” Despite the context of her question, her tone was concerned as the scent of her blood twisted in her stomach and held fast.

Posted: **03 Nov 2015, 12:32**

Mora was knelt down next to the woman. Her white dress was now dirty at the bottom. Shame really because she really loved this dress. She hadn’t meant to kill the paladins that had got in her way, it was self defense really. They had shot at her first. She had just retaliated. She had wanted to collect chemical waste, and fungi. The kind of fungi that grew in the dark depths of the sewers. She needed them to assemble gadgets. Alexandrea had told her how to make them. She had been grateful. Moss hues looked this woman over. She was unresponsive to her first question. She plucked the woman’s wrist up into her own hands and blinked at the marks.

Self harm.

Mora was shocked, could live ever be that bad that someone would try to destroy who they were. She was a vampire. That much she could tell, she had no heartbeat. She simply shook her head. She hated to see people suffer. She blinked a few things and pushed her mind against this woman’s appraising her. She had a sire, that was a good sign but she didn’t recognise the name. She could always send this man an email, she had his name. Tell him his childe was bleeding out in the sewers - which was self inflicted. Would she imposing on something that wasn’t hers to impose on.

She decided not to. Perhaps the woman didn’t hear her. Instead she spoke directly into the woman's mind through her telepathic mindspeak. ”You are bleeding out, losing a lot of blood. Is there anyone I can get you too?” If the woman gave her some kind of response then she would take her to where she needed to be. Blinking a few times she could hear the sounds of someone drawing nearer, out of instinct she raised her gun at the person.

She didn’t pull the trigger through, considering a moment later she registered the woman to be her childe; Rain. She lowered the gun seconds later and placed it back on the ground and turned her hues back to the woman, with sad eyes.

“I don’t adopt every stray I find, hellion.” She said to the blonde, with a smile. A laugh echoing from her lips. “I just found her like this, do you know her?” She hoped Rain knew her - knew the family so she could return the vampire to them.

Posted: **04 Nov 2015, 21:40**

The mechanic twisted her head. Instead of looking forward with her chin huddled towards her chest in a defense that one would typically expect to be lashed out at - Grey opened her eyes to peer out at the other that approached near the white woman. Grey regarded both entities with a complete fascination. One wasn’t alarmed at the other, so that only meant that they had to know each other. ‘Mami’ was a familiar term, wasn’t it? Her mind was traveling a thousand miles a minute, categorizing that relationship with her ex-fiance.

Her mind was swarmed with images, smiling kindness and love from Jesse’s face. From the belts of laughter that she would insight from him in the beginning of their relationship to that sweet pure love that shone in his eyes when they’d be together in the shower. Grey’s mind just flipped through the thousand of images of her ex-lover. Ex.

’No one will ever want you! Worthless!’

The vile, high-pitched voice of Grey’s mother rang out through her memories, scorching them. Burning them in her mind as Grey was watching Jesse’s face turn from loving to pained. From irritation and quickness in disregard to the pleading eyes when he had asked her to leave - to get out of their home until she was presentable. Now, she was coated in blood and Grey almost felt a chuckle bubble up to tickle her lips.

But, the dirty woman kept it inside. She simply closed her eyes as she heard the soft sound of the woman’s voice. As Grey’s blood dripped, thick now that there were only a few pints within her left, the mechanic wasn’t so very easy going with any other family member. Jesse… He was everything.

And now, her everything was gone. That social anxiety was pretty much well pressed. But, Grey went into the sewers. Even when she desperately had prayed for a closet, all of them were now gone. From the apartment in Veil Towers, to Larch Court, to the Circle… Grey’s belongings were sitting in a book bag at the back of Brock’s employee break room. It was laying underneath her jacket, bunched together up on a cot where she could trust it unlike any shelter who offered no security.

Nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath, her head was getting light now. That feeling like she was floating seemed to become greater. The dark world in front of her eyes swirled with a hazy atmosphere as the two women looked at her. She didn’t want to be a spectacle. She didn’t want to have anyone cluck their tongues at her.

They didn’t understand.

He was my everything. He was my anchor. I didn’t have anyone else. Even his family… Our family… I don’t know them. They’re blunt and harsh and obscured with their own lives. I’m not better, really. I can’t function like they can. Smiling and happy all the time. Or cruel. Or malicious. Two of them in a room together is too much. All their emotions… All of their happiness and hate together is exhausting.

Grey’s thoughts were so jumbled, but she closed her eyes in a manner as if she were in so much pain that it was overwhelming her. The dirt upon her face barely held the grimace away. Though Grey could feel Mora’s concern, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything about it. Once again, she couldn’t seem to get the words out to answer such a gentle question.

Even Grey didn’t realize that she already had, her cheek would come to rest against the upper arm of her right side - pillows as dripping fingertips held onto the grate. There was a slow shake of her head. Between disbelief and the pain, Grey’s entire consciousness was numb. From her handiwork, she just knew that she couldn’t keep it inside anymore. The last meal she had burned in her stomach, dancing at the insides of her esophagus. The vile taste ran across her tongue and she just swallowed down the sour bile left inside of her.

Her body was drinking itself, essentially. Her form slowly becoming more and more emaciated as she continued to sit there, resting against that ninety degree angle. As her cheeks hallowed, and as a thirst tickled the back of her throat, Grey just shook her head. Her skin was getting tighter, itchier as muscles started to compress - dying without the vital nutrients it had just been slain of.

There is no one left…

And Grey smirked. There was no woe is me to that tone inside her head.

Her mother had just been right, after all.

Posted: **11 Nov 2015, 15:20**

Did she know her?

The question gave her pause. How did her sire expect her to know anyone – let alone this person? She rarely went anywhere that wasn’t home and her studio. However, something nagged at the back of her mind as she frowned down at the woman, her features twisted in pain, her eyes screaming for someone to hear her – for someone to care. “****.” With a resigned sigh, she shoved her hands through her hair closed her eyes. You still care about people, mija. Look are your dancers, your family. You wish to be good, this is the first step. The voice that only she heard relaxed her, and she slowly opened her eyes and focused on the task at hand.

Bending down once again, she carefully leaned forward, her eyes studying the dirtied and bleeding creature. It was possible that she had seen her somewhere, but she knew the moment she glanced down her body that she hadn't. She wouldn't have forgotten someone so broken or pathetic. With a quick shake of her head, she moved gracefully back to her feet. "Nah, mami. She's not familiar," she said, a touch of regret to her voice. If she had known her, she could have possibly saved her from whatever had torn her spirit apart. What kind of low-life scum would leave a woman in the sewers like this? Who could break someone to this point and not give enough fucks to come find her? She knew the answer, really, but it was her own personal demons. She never once thought that there were more of them in the world. Anger, swift and sure, caused her to grip her fists against her ribcage.

No one should have to suffer through this.

“I’m really not sure what we should do here. Leave her? Clean her up?” Her question was directed to the blonde at her side, though her gaze remained focused on the crouched woman. Despite her outward appearance, Rain didn’t possess the ability to see into her mind to know if the wreck before her was an act or not. To her, the woman was still a threat – albeit a weak one. Her silence only furthered the dancer’s wariness, her cerulean gaze traveling over her form as if she could pull the answers directly from her skin. “Whoever made you do this isn’t worth it, girl. You’re not the only one who’s had their heartbroken. The pity act can only get you so far. I don’t know **** about your circumstances, but I know wallowing around will only make it worse for yourself.” Her words were harsh, but true. She had been there, she knew the outcome.

It wasn’t pretty.

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