Path of the Vampire forum

Mason resented what she had become. Feared it, she was no longer a hunter, clean of human blood, but having spilt that of many vampires. No, now she herself had become one. Why? It didn't matter. What was done was done. And now she had to learn to deal with it. Mason, gritted her teeth as she walked, she had contacted someone, an individual who left up an unusual Ad on the net. Normally, she fed from blood bags. But this, this was a promise for fresh blood.

As much as she felt wrong to do so, she had answered, they had the meeting set, the time, and the location. It was just a matter of doing it. She was wearing a long coat, and boots, as if it'd help cover up who, or what, she was. And kept the hood over her head. She was just a few more steps away from the meeting location before she actually bothered to even look up.

A soft breeze stirs a leaf that has fallen on the pavement; it’s the only shred of litter in the otherwise tidy street. The upper-east side of the city, near Elmsworth, is beautifully maintained; just like the quiet houses arranged in neat rows along its sides, just like the vacant shopfronts along the main street, and just like the silent playground. Eli doesn’t expect there to be crowds of people shopping or a swarm of children swinging off the monkey bars at two o’clock in the morning, but, the lifeless cookie-cutter suburbs leaves a lasting and negative impression nonetheless. A chill traces his spine and chases away the feeling of safety. Eli takes a deep breath in through his nostrils, holds it, and then lets the air loose from the small gap he’s made between his lips. It becomes his focus: four seconds in, two seconds on hold, and then four seconds out. It only takes a few minutes of practiced counting before his pitter-patter heart relaxes to a regular thrum. Eli crosses the street and makes for the meeting place between The Philharmonic music store and Angelique’s Boutique.

They cross paths in a way that Eli thought could only ever be scripted: as he enters from one side of the lane, his companion appears from the other –three metres away. Eli comes to a natural stop and he brightens; the inner corners of his brows lift, enlarging his fawn-brown eyes, and his lips crystallise into a smile. He doesn’t recognise who he’s looking at; the long coat disguises her shape and shadows blur the angles of her striking face. There are crescent moons in the depths of her eyes that mark her as a supernatural. In the dim light of the streets, she is much better equipped at discerning everything that identified him as Elijah Brooks – the unusual artist she met on a park bench – than he could remember her as Mason – the studious girl with a love of tattoos. Eli holds his ground; his shoulders relax under his navy cotton shirt, his feet are a hip’s length apart in his lucky black All Stars, and his hands are tucked into the pockets of his khaki chinos. He lets her make the first move.

If only there were other ways. Easier methods of gaining blood. But, at least, by paying someone for it directly. She knew it wasn’t being stolen. And it got her fed. Where’s chasing down rabbits wasn’t exactly the optimal thing to do in her opinion. While her mind drifted, she felt herself pulled by her hunger. She still needed to consume, it was after all why she was here. What she wasn’t prepared for however, was who was before her.

As her eyes raised, vision accustomed to the dark, she stepped back in shock her hood falling back as she realized who it was before her, “Eli?!” Mason said surprised her eyes wide. She remembered him well, before she’d been turned they’d met. He’d even drawn a picture for her. She had kept it of course. And he knew what she was at that time, a paladin, a hunter of the vampires.

But now? What would he think knowing she had become the very thing she sought to destroy? And what was he doing here, feeding the thing she had once wished to rid the world of. He eyes danced to the side making sure they weren’t being watched.

She took a few quick steps turning so to make sure any unexpected on-comers would only see her back but to where she stood right next to him, pulling her hood back over head head, “What in the world are you doing?!” She asked, even if she was no less guilty, ”You’re not supposed to be who I’m meeting.” she whispered.

==========AUTOMATED RANDOM EVENTS SYSTEM==========

A group member's phone vibrates. They have an unread email with the subject line, "Good news!"

Hearing his own name disturb the sound of silence, Eli's ears twitch and his brows descend between his eyes. The darkness puts a strain on his vision; he cranes his neck to get a better view and then she steps up to him. The movement is like a blur; shadows blend the sway of the coat into the abyss even though she moves at a human pace. Eli blinks a few times as he watches her move to his side; his eyes are trained on her face that glows as pale as moth wings in the moonlight. Familiarity sneaks up on him - cruel and intimate like a knife - and he swallows hard on the lump in his throat.

“Mason? I. Uh. Hi?"

His voice trembles a little and he sucks in his bottom lip. Eli is as surprised to see her as she is to see him in this situation, but, he's not nearly as terrified. Mason shelters her face from the streets as if somebody is watching her every move. He realises that he can't focus on his own confusion. Eli reaches for her forearm; the warmth of his skin leaks away as his hand closes gently around her arm. His lips form a soft line, he leans closer to her, and tempers his voice so that she would be the only one to hear him.

“Let's go somewhere. To talk. I know a place."

His hands go to his pockets - balled into sweaty fists - and he steps back. Eli wouldn't normally consider bringing a client home, but, this is different - Mason isn't just anyone and when he'd drawn her portrait, he'd learned something deeply personal about her. Despite their distance and lack of a true, deep understanding, Eli trusts Mason.

This was not supposed to go down like this, well, he recognized her alright. Though even if she hadn't practically jumped upon realizing it was him, he was bound to find out anywhere unless she'd flat out sprinted away after seeing him. Man this really made things troublesome, why could it not just be someone she'd never met before?

She felt his hand reach his forearm and gritted her teeth, at first because her skin was cold and she knew it as compared to his. The blood that once flowed through her veins, that was hers, no longer belonged to her. Cold as the corpse she was. But then, she felt the warmth, and her eyes lit up. Blood her fangs emerged for a second as she swallowed and wrapped her lower lip around them trying to hide them and force them back in.

Elijah Brooks wrote: “Let's go somewhere. To talk. I know a place."

Mason watched his hands return to his pockets, Easy to take, so easy. the thought came to her mind and was instantly forced away with disgust, it wasn't her. It was that vampiric nature of hers. Disgusting.

"Yeah, let's do that." She said holding her head over the sides of her face as she went to follow him, she felt her phone buzz and took it out quick to look at it, "Good News!" it said. She narrowed her eyes at it. As if. Shoving it back into her pocket she followed along, she'd have to take care of it later. There were more important things going on at the moment.

When you look for trouble, you'll find it. Eli knows that more than most and it's his experience that life can get pretty creative with how it brings trouble to his door. He should only have himself to blame - after all, he's literally bringing trouble home with him tonight - but, Eli's what they call fatally optimistic and there's only one way that ideology can end.

When they leave the shelter of the lane, they are greeted by a rush of air and the sound of a car approaching. Eli lifts his head out of his introspection to witness the flash of headlines disappear around a corner. He only gets a brief glimpse, but, he's sure the car is two-toned and is probably a police patrol. For some reason, that doesn't make him feel safe. Eli switches his focus to Mason. He watches her shove her phone into her pocket; her face is a picture of anger, confusion, and maybe a touch of paranoia because her eyes can't sit still. In contrast, Eli's heart beats at a steady, calm rhythm.

“Mason?" he says; his voice is a flutter of sound. “Are you… Ok?"

It's a stupid question, but, he has to know if she feels like she can confide in him. They are heading south east toward Gullsborough and the park where they'd first met. The streets are well lit, the ice-blue glow from streetlamps maps their surroundings with surgical precision. His apartment is only a five minute walk away. They can talk there without fearing that anyone is going to be listening; it's just Eli and his overgrown eucalyptus sharing a one bedroom apartment. The neighbours are quiet - impossibly so - and so he suspects that the rooms have been bought out and left vacant for ulterior reasons, yet not necessarily nefarious.

==========AUTOMATED RANDOM EVENTS SYSTEM==========

The group hears the sound of a voice shouting distantly about the evils of 'blood sucking monsters'.

Mason follows, as the cop car pulls past she swallows her eyes whipping along the vehicle as they go. She did try to rely on blood packs, she really did, but sometimes. Well sometimes things didn't go so well. And sometimes you got caught doing things you really wish you hadn't. It usually went away sooner or later. But...otherwise, it was not so great.

And yet in spite of her fear, Eli seemed perfectly fine. Situations were so different when they first met. Just a calm evening, happy to meet. A collective interest in art. It was such a better time then. She knew the area around here well, gulls borough and wick bridge were common stops. It hurt her inside, remembering where she once was. Remembering the life she once had. Sure, there was fear then too. And anger. But not like this, she wasn't the evil that needed to be purged.

If there was anybody nearby, Mason's keen senses had a good chance of catching them. Not necessarily other vampires however, the Shadow's in particular were rather difficult to track down.

Elijah Brooks wrote:he says; his voice is a flutter of sound. “Are you… Ok?"

Her face was one of pain, not physical, though it might as well have been. "No...I'm." she paused, it hurt to admit it, her voice hurt, her head, her heart, why had this happened, "I've got freaking fangs Eli, i'm not ok. "

She'd told him a secret for, perhaps one equally as dangerous. Being a paladin wasn't perhaps as good of a thing as it had once been to the majority. And it got you on some people's lists. And yet, she'd told him. Maybe it was nativity, but she still trusted him somehow.

Eli’s brows furrow and the one corner of his lips twinges upward. He feels for her, but, he doesn’t really know what to say; the last thing people want to hear is that everything is going to be fine when their world has fallen apart. He can only imagine what it must be like to become the thing you hated so much. So, Eli doesn’t say anything. He reaches for her hand and softly squeezes it; the cold appendage warms to his touch like he’s giving life to it. Eli’s always found comfort in physical contact and he hopes to give that to Mason; he also hopes to reassure her that he wouldn’t betray her in a moment like this.

They cross toward Westwall where the manicured fields of Thornside park gives way to cement and glass monoliths. They stand in a grid pattern that makes up the downtown core: precisely engineered skyscrapers with a mixture of high end shops and coffee bars, offices above, and some further residences above that. Small residences are stacked one on top of the other with over twelve on one floor alone like a stack of rabbit hutch sized dwellings. They're not cheap. Actually, they're among the most expensive pieces of sky in the city.

They head through the door to the apartment block and take the elevator to his floor before Eli leads Mason down the short walk to his door - all in silence. He casually takes the keys from his pocket and unlocks the door; Eli’s precise movements pause when he pushes the red door open and looks back at Mason.

“I. I guess this the part where I invite you in,” he says. “Sorry about the mess.”

Eli drops his head to conceal the redness of his cheeks and walks into his apartment. As he flicks on the light, it’s immediately clear why he feels the need to apologise for the mess. The entire apartment is visible from the front door: the living space comprises of a sofa, dining table, and maisonette kitchen with two doors off to the back for the bathroom and bedroom. The walls are a warm ivory tone that match the empty surface of a canvas and they are littered with scraps of paper vicariously hung by sellotape vines. Each paper is a document of charcoal imaginings from when Eli has time between jobs and doesn’t know what else to do. They are mainly portraits of people or individual sections of the face where he’s been practicing how to make the eyes, lips, and noses of his subjects look more realistic. Aside from this collage of faces on the walls, however, the apartment barely looks lived in at all.

The white and black modern kitchen looks tidy and well equipped with utensils on hooks, matching cups stacked beside a coffee maker, a clean and folded tea towel hanging over the oven door, a small refrigerator and freezer combo, and an even smaller dishwasher. There is no room for an island for extra storage, so everything else is packed away in glossy white cabinets above the single row of black kitchen countertops that line the far corner of the room. There is light oak flooring throughout the apartment and so there are pieces of furniture to divide the living spaces: a glossy white table with matching white leather chairs and a three seater corner sofa which was also made of white leather and chrome. There’s no TV, but, there is a retro-looking stereo system perched on a white cabinet behind the sofa. The stereo is connected to his smartphone by bluetooth so the cabinet is actually stocked with all his art supplies - some packaged, but most are just bundled and stacked. There is also a deposit of work in progress drawings piled onto the dining table.

Eli makes toward the back of the apartment to close the doors to the bathroom and bedroom and then returns to the front door. When Mason is inside, he’ll close the apartment door behind them. His heart rate is a lot less steady than before; it beats a Metallica style rhythm against the cage of his ribs as the inevitable chat lingers.