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Oliver Alexander

Until lions have their historians, tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunter.

0 · 457 views · located in Washington, USA

a character in “Blood which Binds”, as played by Korrye

Description

Fallen Enforcer


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Name: Olivier Frederick Alexander

Nickname(s): Oliver is fine. Call him Olli and you'll be dead at his feet in a blink.

Age: Turned while physically 26, now 817 years later he's still a vampire.

Birthday: Turned in what is now May 1195 in Constantinople, born on what he estimates to be September 8th 1169.

Bloodtype: Prefers A- especially vegans, vegetarians, sober or individuals who've never done drugs who have a purer blood content.

Place of Origin: Córdoba, Spain.

Likes:
Oliver was raised to possess refined tastes as a son of the Spanish Court at turn of the 12th century. That much has not changed today. He remains well dressed, favoring tailored and well made expensive clothing. He's annoyed by hipsters and flashy 'contemporary' clothes. Even when he dressed casual, he dresses in well fit clean clothes. Cleanliness is big for him. He knows very well the harms that a lack of hygiene can bring - he did live through the dark ages after all. Aside from his taste in dress, his taste in music is also classical. He has a passion for instrumental music and very few singers can move him. Often he won't turn the radio on simply because something like Katy Perry is on - and if he had the chance he'd off the woman. He is passionate about a lot of aged or antiqued things and overall has a love of history because it allows him to reminisce. When it comes to artifacts more specifically he is obsessed with anything related to the supernatural, whether it's the rumors of witches or vampires or werewolves or the like - no different than when he was human and brought into the brotherhood. He is innately curious and fact finding missions appeal to him. He is also a lover of languages and anthropology - studying other cultures fascinates him.

When it comes to more modern past times, he does enjoy sex. The advent of such carnal activities becoming recreational led him on a whirlwind century of sleeping around - and literally around the world. He loves to travel and often becomes irritated if he finds himself in the same place for too long. He likes changes in scenery and more rural and suburban settings than urban. The cities of today irritate him. When it comes to sports, he's quite athletic. He enjoys spending time playing baseball, running, rowing and boating. He's always loved sailing - especially during the time of long ships. Boats also provide isolated places for him to claim and dump his victim of course, an added benefit to the joys of being out on the water. He used to enjoy horseback riding a lot but now, as a vampire, horses are continually spooked around him which saddens him to an extent. He enjoys his own strength and immortality but in many ways, the remedial desires to be human remain ever so slightly.

Dislikes:
His life as a human was consumed by a hatred for vampires and to some extent that remains today. Oliver has grown to accept what he is after long periods of trying to off himself and Helena forcing him to remain undead. He adores his strength and the ability to act on impulse. He loves that his senses are amplified, making the experience of life all the more vibrant. He has come to enjoy the kill, loving when the animal in him possesses him. Most of all he loves that he can shut off his emotions and not feel because in some ways his compassion and guilt as a human were too much for him to bear. Yet beneath it all remains a slight distaste for what he is, what he does and how many people he's killed. The ghosts of his hunter brotherhood remain on his mind occasionally, triggered by certain sights and memories. He accepts that and in time whenever it does come up he turns off that regret. With nearly a millennium of time spent as a vampire he is thankful that he no longer has to deal with human illness and barbaric acts. He is glad that he is his own authority in many ways and is powerful over all others, aside from his few superiors.

He hates conflict and war, especially human battles and squabbles over religion. The idea of faith bothers him. It isn't that he believes in God but that he sees the enduring wars of religion has arguing over many names for the name deity. He is spiritual but continues to be astounded by humanities lapse into conflict over such a subtle difference. He also feels for the ill but the taste of their blood - tainted by sickness, drugs, chemicals, or the like - repulses him. Drugs are something he loathes, along with tobacco. His distaste for those things isn't something he'll hide from you either.

Oliver also dislikes the modern era's focus on infotainment and he feels like there has been a loss within academia to the television and it's focus on news and visuals for mass consumption and not education. The commercialism of society today bothers him and yet he finds himself falling into it often - buying expensive clothes and things but he focuses on the quality of those goods. He doesn't buy things just to have them - unless they're artifacts in which they're collected items.

The only thing he likes about computers are online catalogs and databases at the tip of his finger. Otherwise the screens are irritating. He still much prefers books.

Fear(s):
Oliver fears a return of the brotherhood. Rumblings have occurred through time as groups have discovered the power of the original hunters and taken up the mantle. His existence is traceable back to the group and the idea of being approached by them and condemned still remains, even after all this time. He also fears that at some point his emotions and his humanity may overwhelm him and render him unable to turn off those feelings.

Secret(s):
Oliver continues to hide the distaste he has for his kind. Not only this but he continues to kill whenever he feeds and the truth of that matter is that he has never been able to control himself. That lack of control is a sore spot for him given his age.

Personality:
Oliver is inherently a very private person and he can come off as quiet and subdued. He is not the first one to cause a scene and is only ever confrontational when personally threatened or spoken to. He is short with his words and not one to rant either. He prefers to bottle up his emotions within himself than to express them, knowing that Helena and the other Fallen mock him whenever he does tap into that more emotional side of him. He can come off as cold and steely and calculating and he is. He is extremely judgmental and attentive of a person’s appearance and behavior. With so much time under his belt he’s become highly adept at reading body language.

He is manipulative, especially when looking for a kill. He feels no qualms about seducing a woman and he’s very good at it. He also feels no issues with lying, stealing, cheating and the like. There’s a thrill involved with living in a lie for him and he is not afraid to act a role to get a girl into his arms. He likes to play people off each other and watch from afar. As an enforcer he enjoys using other people to resolve issues. He’s manipulating in so far as the blood is rarely on his hands but when it is, he enjoys it.

When he is tapping into his animalistic and vampire side, his cocky side can re-emerge. He is confident in his skills – whether it’s the hunt or otherwise. That said, when his emotions resurface and he is left taking account for what he’s doing or done, he’s compassionate. His residual humanity can have been acting incredibly empathetic and charitable. He can show that he cares and he can be more personable but it rarely happens as of late – given all he’s done and his lack of control over his vampire side.

When he’s hunting for prey, he can become sadistic and is not afraid to inflict harm – and while he enjoys physically toying with people, psychological play is his favorite weapon of choice. He likes to mess with people, especially his victims, playing off their body language and their desires and using them for his own gain. He is nothing short of an animal then and when his desire to feed kicks in, there’s no stopping him.

History:
Oliver Alexander was born to Maghtild and Aylwin Alexander, two members of what can only be described as an aristocratic class within Cordova Spain. Born in 1169, Oliver spent only a few years within the great city. The hub of life in Europe at the time and most developed of all regions, it was naturally coveted by many. In 1175 with the invasion of Al-Mu'tamid ibn Abbad his parents would flee, taking a ship and all of their goods north to settle along the coast in Léon. They would travel frequently thereafter between several established properties before ultimately settling in Toledo. With the resurgence of Christianity came conflict. Though Caucasian, Oliver’s family had been practicing Muslims until he was fifteen when pressures within the Christian capital brought about the transition. Oliver himself was dissatisfied with the need to change, having never been particularly religious, and faced severe chastisement by his family. He was the second eldest of six children, four of whom were boys. His oldest brother, Emmanuel, took the priesthood leaving Oliver the primary heir to his families estate. Still, their discontent with his position on faith from a young age led to a wedge being driven between them. They cared about their image to the various monarchs in the area and they were powerful people who intended to marry him off. As an aristocrat he had responsibilities and one of those was to be a good Christian.

At sixteen, in a particularly bad mood one day, Oliver wandered off in search of a tavern or some keep where he might find a strong ale to preoccupy his mind. He found a small rundown building in the city center but once instead he found that instead of the bar he anticipated, he was surrounded by ornamentally dressed men, all looking like knights in black onyx armor and dark hoods. He was taken and knocked out, waking up in a converted church in a cell underground. He had been taken with the knowledge that he was the son of the Alexander’s who had only the intention to ransom him and be on their way. But instead, Oliver found himself wondering about the mysterious tattoos each of the men possessed, and how they walked and talked. They were different and it did not take long for him to hear of magic.

At once he was entranced and even though he was their prisoner, he begged to know more about what they did. The leader, Salomon de Colne, saw something there. Oliver was not sure what but the leader and his men saw opportunity. It was rare to find someone so willing to believe, so open to the idea of magic when so many saw it as sin, as evil. And so they arranged for a vampire to be brought into a holding cell across from Oliver’s and he saw the creature grow rapid and violent upon near starvation before it was staked and killed. He was shocked to learn that such things really did exist. He had always been fascinated with such stories – a family nanny had told him of such things before being fired by his parents for telling ‘immoral’ tales and lies. He fell in love with the idea and not long after Salomon took Oliver into the group. They were the Brotherhood and they dedicated their lives to hunting vampires.

Abandoning his family entirely, Oliver was indoctrinated into the group and promptly trained. It was years before he emerged from the group with Salomon and the others on a formal hunt but he excelled beyond Salomon’s high hopes. He was strong and what’s more he was ruthless. Oliver dehumanized them and became a hunter hungry for the kill. The brotherhood would leave Spain shortly after he turned twenty, moving into France and the Holy Roman Empire before heading towards the Middle East and Constantinople where many of the brotherhood had been called. An infestation of vampires was said to exist within the monarchy there, and what’s more rumor had it that original vampires were in the area – a challenge Oliver was too arrogant to deny himself. Salomon tried to prevent him, as did the other brothers. They spent a lot of time trying to check Oliver’s self confidence. For once he felt good at something! And he was good. But he was too good for his own good and ultimately that led him to Helena’s trail.

He was twenty six and a hunter, an expert killer who enjoyed tormenting the undead creatures. He had been within Constantinople for a month, trailing Helena when she appeared to him. He was caught by her in the dead of night. The fight was far quicker than any other. Helena was so strong. She was so cunning. And she enjoyed pinning him and letting him squirm beneath her. He begged her to kill him, threatening her with the brotherhood, that his brothers would avenge his death. He confessed his absolute hatred for what she was and then she choked him, forcing him to shut up, before laughing at him. He remembered her brother her hand to his lips and then the violent twist she gave to his neck. When he woke up a vampire he was horrified and still in her presence. Immediately he tried to kill himself, to be anything but this heathen creature. How could it be that he had become the very thing he hated?

And then she brought him a woman. Oliver remembered her name immediately. Elira. He had spent several nights with her in Constantinople and she had been an informant to the brotherhood, often traveling ahead of them. While she wasn’t a hunter, she was a believer and she had brought many vampires to their deaths. Helena cut her throat slightly and the smell of the blood was just there. Elira was his first kill and Oliver didn’t even hesitate. When the smell emerged he couldn’t control himself. He just went to her and consumed her blood – all of it. And when he was done all he wanted was more. And Helena obliged for the first few weeks. It wasn’t until thirty two people were dead at his feet that his conscience kicked in and suddenly he was confronted again with what he was. The animal had kicked in, kicking out the emotion. And when the emotion returned it was overwhelming.

All of his life, ever since then, Oliver has battled himself for control and against his emotions. With so much time, his hatred for vampires has subsided but he knows that he is far from one of the better ones. He strives to be better, but he has never been able to control himself and so he resigns himself to remain with Helena. The kill remains too much to give up. He does love it. He craves it. And he can’t live without it.

Anything Else:
As a human he did receive an old form of tattoo and branding by the brotherhood on his right arm, under his wrist joint – reference here. It was branded by a hot iron and remains raised on his skin, but was also tattooed over and darkened with old age tribal methods.

So begins...

Oliver Alexander's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Derek Fleitner Character Portrait: Eva Clarke Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon
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#, as written by Korrye
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She knew she shouldn’t have started reading the book as soon as she started it, but so many people were talking about it. 50 Shades of Grey had to be good with all the buzz it was getting right? But the more she read it, the more her mind wandered. Lately she couldn’t read any sort of romance without her mind conjuring more desirable images, replacing the described male lead with Derek. She found herself at a particularly simple scene. The main character Anastasia Steele had gone out drinking with her friends only to get totally wasted. Drunk, she had called Christian Grey, the broken, dark and mysterious main man. He had shown up and they had squabbled a little but now she was puking into a small group of bushes outside a bar and he was holding her hair. Eva sighed, sitting on her bed with her back against the wall. Her knees were bent, and she held the book with one hand against her legs while her free hand moved to tuck her hair behind her ear, chewing on her lower lip. It was boring to her. She was almost fifty pages in and nothing more than steamy glances had been exchanged.

Normally she never flipped forward through a book but she couldn’t help it in that instant. She closed the book, reading the back cover before opening it again to a random page closer to the middle. Her eyes scanned the words and widened instantly. A deep flush crept over her cheeks and she shifted uncomfortably. She swallowed, ready to turn the page to keep going when a knock loudly interrupted her. Eva blinked twice and looked up at the door, finding herself still in her room and not the red room of pain described in the book so aptly.

“Eva?” Derek asked. Her eyes widened more so. The brunette looked down at the book in her hands and as he opened the door she chucked it across the room. It slammed into the wall and slid behind her laundry basket, which fortunately was filled and hid it nicely. Eva straightened herself out in the seconds she had before he opened the door. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a side pony tail, curling nicely. She was dressed in a simple outfit, aiming to be more cozy than sexy. It was not an outfit she would wear were she expecting Derek. Fact was, she felt plain. Her room was outfitted with seven dozen roses of various shades. Most were pink or red but last week he had found her blue roses, which stood out in a tall vase on the corner of her windowsill. Fairy lights were plugged in around the window itself to add more light – the room had come with only one floor lamp – and made them look beautiful. Added to that were various other favors from Derek – orchids mostly, of various colors and sizes. Her favorite was the smallest one, and by far the most delicate. It could fit in her hand and was the darkest shade of pink with nearly a dozen flowers. It was on her nightstand, so she could wake up to it. It was hard not to think of Derek when she was surrounded by his gifts. He never left her mind now.

When he entered she inhaled sharply. Eva felt herself tense, a wave of goose flesh running over her arms. She watched him scan the room momentarily before his gaze landed on hers. It was brooding and serious and dark all at once. She curled her toes in her socks, moving her legs so that they were crossed instead, her hands clasping one another tightly. His stature still caught her off guard whenever she saw him. She could never look at him enough. As he crossed the room she noticed the small gift in his hands. Another one? Every time she saw him he gave her something. But what did it mean? Did he like her the way she loved him? Oh there was that word again. Love. She couldn’t deny it. She felt it so strongly. He gave her gifts, he made her feel things she had never felt and so heatedly! Yet Adonis and Angel had both mentioned once or twice…that he might not…it wasn’t possible. He had to! She looked into his eyes and felt reassured that he had to feel something for her. He looked at her with desire, need. She felt it grow more intense as he stepped closer and she shivered.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked her. Eva immediately shook her head. “No, I was…reading. It wasn’t that good,” she struggled to reply, her voice soft and gentle. She knew she was in front of him, wide eyed and flushed. Stupid book already had her going. Now he was really in front of her. As she closed her eyes she could see him striding across the room, his legs discounting the space and his vampire speed making the movement take a split second. She could just hear him in her head. “I need you,” he would tell her, taking her hand and pulling her to stand. His strength would make her stumble into his chest…that strong and muscled body would catch her. He would bring his hands to her cheeks, running his thumb absently along her jaw and look down at her with a smile. “You’re so beautiful…” he would mutter and she would flush and then he would kiss her…

Except she didn’t know what that would feel like.

Derek shifted his weight and the floor creaked. The noise startled her, and Eva blinked rapidly again, clearing her throat and shifting so that she could sit at the end of her bed and put her feet on the floor. Part of her leg was numb from sitting cross-legged on the bed, even for a short time. “Sorry,” she murmured, looking up at him and moving to pull at the scarf she had on around her throat. Intuition had her prepare herself. It had been some time since Derek had fed on her. He had only nine times in the few months that she had been with the Forbearers. She would never forget the first time, how he had stirred her with his look, the feel of his lips against her skin. She shifted again at that memory too, squeezing her thighs together and staring at the floor. "How are you?" she managed to ask, trying to get him to speak, trying to stop fumbling with her words. I hope he doesn't think that I'm a fool.





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She was vibrating with fear and he loved it. Oliver stalked towards her, watching the blond woman shake and stare at the ground. She was backed into the corner of the bathroom stall, the loud music of the bar beyond blaring and echoing across the dark tiled floors. “Please,” the woman whispered. Oliver cocked his head to the right, running his tongue over his teeth. He had ensured that the door was locked. No one was coming, a cleaning sign was on the door and a bouncer was watching the hall to prevent people from storming in. Now he had his prey, a woman he had been hunting all night. She was young and he smelt it on her, the purity of her blood. Her friends were druggies but she wasn’t and she was glorious, glowing skin and white blond hair with carefree red and pink streaks. Dark eye shadow, boy shorts, a ripped black tank top and a glorious throat. Exposed and lovely. He could see her carotid artery racing, the pumping of her head was so loud in his ears. It raced with the bass of the rock concert outside, intoxicating him, egging on the monster inside him. He felt his fangs extend as he stepped into the bathroom stall and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“Please what?” he taunted her, hearing his smooth male voice run across the tile floors. She shivered at the sound, her skin erupting in goose flesh. She continued to shake however. Her friend was dead by the door after all, drained in an instant. The other girls’ blood was still dripping from his chin and onto his shirt, the indecent taste bitter on his tongue. Heroin was never pleasant and today it made him want to cleanse his palate all the more. And now that opportunity was before him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she begged. It made him chuckle as she tried to squeeze herself further into the corner of the bathroom stall, cowering and shrinking as she bent her knees and tried to shield herself. As if she could.

“Oh I won’t hurt you darling,” he promised her. “You see, I can make this...orgasmic for you.” His explanation drew her glance, a small peak over her arm as his charm flowed and she found herself curious. That was all he needed. He reached out and grabbed her left arm, pulling her towards him sharply. She screamed but Oliver clasped a hand over her mouth, pulling her back to his chest and wrapping his hand around her, holding her hands with his one and locking her to him. He tilted her head back and drew his nose along the length of her neck. He couldn’t help but kiss her, drawing his lips along the sweet spot below her ear where it met her jaw. She tensed beneath him and he felt her tears run to his hand. She was vibrating with fear which was excellent. After all, he liked his blood shaken and not stirred.

“Hush,” he cooed, leaning his face into her cheek, feeling the warmth of her friends blood between them as it smeared from his face and onto her unblemished cheeks. “Stay still,” he ordered. Oliver tested her, releasing his grip from her hands to draw his fingers up her side, diving below her shirt to draw a nail up her ribs, cutting into her. The scent of her blood was immediate and his eyes dilated. His fangs extended and he swooned, drunk on the smell all at once. He moved to bite her, sinking his teeth into the meat of her throat. She moaned as his hands moved to coddle her body while he took what he wanted. The blond spasmed beneath his hands and in seconds she was dead, pleasure lacing her face as he stepped back and dropped her without an ounce of sincerity. The blonde’s body bounced off the toilet, spraying the porcelain with blood, before rolling off onto the floor.

“So good, see,” Oliver proclaimed to the girls’ corpse. “That didn’t hurt.”

He stepped out of the stall and caught a glimpse of himself in the vanity mirror. The music kept playing but his hearing zoned out when he saw himself. The front side of his outfit was drenched in blood, the blue fabric of his shirt crimson while his jeans were drying brown. His face was coated, the blood of his prey smeared and sprayed across his face. It was that sight that made him glance back at the bodies of the two women on the floor. It came so quickly he screamed. The raw guilt hit him harder than a stake to the heart.

He looked back at the bodies again, and he felt his knees buckle slightly. Oliver caught himself on the sink, but his strength was so much so that it ripped the thing clean from the wall. A jet of water sprayed out at him and he hissed, ducking away from it and watching as it rushed like a geyser at he bodies. It did nothing to help him. He moved quickly to the windows to the top part of the ceiling. He punched it out of the frame and lept with practiced grace through it. He found himself tumbling into a fire escape, the metal snarling as much as he was as he rolled and stopped when his back slammed into a corner of the rusty stairs. His head slammed into it, hard enough to send an irritating reverberation through his skull. For a moment he sat there, breathing deeply, looking down at himself. He brought his hands into view, seeing the residual flesh beneath his nails, and blood caking his knuckles, running in places where it was fresh or wet. His fingers shook momentarily before he clenched them into fists, standing and jumping from the escape to the building’s rooftop. It was time to go home.

The house was smaller than they normally stayed in. Oliver knew it was likely temporary, a good thing considering he had drained some fifteen people in their short stay in town. He knew another two to the spree would likely draw attention. And tonight he had left the two of them in a public space. He’d broken for the first time in months. He was still in that frame of mind as he entered the Fallen stead. The living room was abuzz as Helena was seated with two of their pets present. He slammed the door behind him and cast a glance over them all, knowing he was still covered in blood, knowing that his eyes were warmer than normal, knowing moreover that he looked tormented. And he was. Oliver brought his sleeve to his face and wiped it, kicking off his shoes before he walked without a word up to the upstairs bathroom.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten
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Scarlett wasn't like the rest of them. There was no fear in her eyes, and no paranoia of death. A part of her fretted at the thought of no longer living, but another stronger part of her accepted the fact that she too would die. There wasn't much to her useless existence, so why worry about dying? Her young, reckless heart wasn't scared. She had lived there for four years, and felt completely safe. At least, safer than she had ever felt in her own home. Her life was filled with abuse and violence before, but here it seemed more like games and pleasure. Beside that, if things got really bad with Helena, Scar had a flicker of faith that either Oliver or Lucan would stand up for her.

She wasn't close with the other humans. They were submissive, and frightful. The two made her sick, with the way Dmitri was constantly trying to protect Kaleigh. How fucking romantic. Don’t act like it’s not obvious, Scarlett can see right through the two of them. Their wildest and dearest dream: to run away together and live happily ever after. Too bad there’s no such thing.

With that being said she opted to having a room upstairs, away from the sickly relationship. Scar preferred the company of vampires anyway, she felt more accepted around them anyway. They had similar interests and the same darkness. Those two humans never understood her, her need for an escape; the pleasure of being fed on, even the pain. I suppose even the vampires didn't really understand Scar either, what human in their right mind would willing stay with them? She wasn’t quite sure herself.

Thankfully, Scar wasn’t one of Helena’s favorites. In fact, most days she avoided her all together. Today was one of those days. Scarlett was good at being unnoticed, sometimes it was almost as if she weren't a pet, just as if she was living here. Most of her time was spent in the music room, one of the least visited rooms of the house. But she was always so grateful that every house they lived in had some kind of piano. In this house it was a room was a far off and shut away from the rest of the living. She liked it, she could play without anyone disturbing her. She was funny that way, keeping her most fond ability a secret, and had kept it so for years. No one had ever directly listened to her play.

While most of the house was out hunting she had sneaked down there and played for a couple of hours. After they came back, she went back to her usual cleaning act. It seemed like a fair price to pay for a home, food, and some fun. Oliver had left later than the rest, Scar took note of that.

Currently, Scarlett had just gotten out of the shower. The steam dancing around her as she combed through her light blonde hair. It was bleached that way, but she thought it fit her better than her natural muddy blonde hair. Her thoughts were lost in thinking about what it would be like to live eternally. It must be lonely. All your friends and family die away. After applying some lotion to her legs she wrapped a towel around her body, just long enough to cover her tush. She didn't care to tuck the corner in, she just clutched the connecting edges with her hand. There was only about twenty feet to her room, she would be fine.

Scarlett swung the door open to find a figure covered in blood standing only a foot away. “Christ!”, jumping at the sight of him. It took her a moment to realize who was standing in front of her. Oliver. She didn’t move away from him “I... I’m sorry.” Scarlett had wished that her reaction had been different. She could see now that he felt terrible. Her face softened,

“... Are you okay?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten
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#, as written by Mela
Helena the Bloody


As Helena waited, the sounds of their current house told her all she needed to know, even as Kaleigh called out that she was on her way. Already Dmitri was moving from his room, the sound of his guitar having ended abruptly, and soon Helena heard Kaleigh shuffling her way out of her room too. Her unseeing eyes were alight with sadistic glee at the plans she had in mind. Scarlett was in the bathroom, showering, and the scent of Oliver was getting stronger by the second. Hmm, someone was on his way home… bloody. She tapper her right cheek in thought with that realization. She knew he was going through human in this town faster than any of them, and though she adored the way he would viciously rip through his victims, the numbers were starting to catch her attention. And the fact that he hadn’t washed off before coming home? Well, that was never a good sign. She could smell his panic, and she bared her fangs in response just as Kaleigh and Dmitri made it into the livingroom. Immediately she snapped back into the moment, her smile back.

She loved all the different little responses she could scent on Kaleigh, and oh, she would have Dmitri angry and desperate soon enough. Dmitri was in the doorway as Kaleigh moved to sit on the couch, her gaze moving to Helena once in a while. She didn’t herself know how she saw so well without her sight. All she could say was that the rest of her senses had taken over in every way. Her ears and nose went a long way in telling her what went on around her, and speaking of which, Oliver burst into the house in that moment. Helena remained silent, knowing her humans would stay put and her red eyes directed themselves at Oliver, letting him know she acknowledged his homecoming, but she did so silently. The vampire wasn’t quite sure whether she was more angry or amused with Oliver, and she needed Kristof here to take care of these little things. She hummed a little tune as Oliver went upstairs, and soon Scarlett was getting out of her shower. Helena growled, the sound feminine yet threatening at the same time.

“Basement,” she told Kaleigh and Dmitri. They would know this was an order to go there, and she was no longer in the mood to be nice. The basement held all of her little… toys. They’d broken a lot of bones on Kaleigh in the past, but Helena always healed her with vampire blood afterwards… then took good care of her. Most of the time, the redhead’s moodswings were so extreme she couldn’t keep track of them herself. As soon as the word left her lips, she was between Oliver and Scarlet, her front towards the male, her movement so quick it was nothing but a blur. Her hand moved suddenly to clasp Oliver’s neck, nails digging into the skin which was impenetrable to most things, but not her. Her red eyes had a vicious, evil glint in them as she completely ignored Scarlett, her superior strength keeping Oliver in place. “What did you do, dearie?” She asked Oliver in a deceptively sweet sing-song voice, her nails digging deeper. Right now she was tempted to rip off his head, she was that pissed off.

Helena was not in the mood to clean up Oliver’s mess, which usually meant she wouldn’t, because such was the way of Helena the Bloody; she followed her own wants and urges, not those of others. “Because I think the puppy misbehaved… and you know what I do to little puppies who misbehave.” In an instant then, she suddenly let go of him, a grand smile on her face as she licked his blood off of her nails, and before he even got to properly reply, she chirped “clean up your mess, little puppy, or there will be no sweets for you.” And off she was, shoving Dmitri and Kaleigh the rest of the way into the basement, closing and locking the door behind her. She was suddenly happy, her issues with Oliver promptly forgotten. It would all come back to her in a little while, but for now her focus had shifted onto something much more fun!

She grinned at them as she reached behind her to tie her hair in a ponytail, her voice calm and instructive as she told Dmitri “go sit in that chair over there,” and gestured towards a wooden chair in the corner of the basement. On each side of the chair, iron hooks had been recently installed. She seat had a perfect view of everything in the room. Especially the metallic, long table in the middle. On it were chains of different varieties attached and above it, a mirror was situated so that her victim would be able to watch itself. Sometimes, though, that wasn’t her goal, and she would turn it around so that only the wooden side could be seen. On one wall, a huge metal grating had been put up, little spikes in every place the rows of metal met each other. Next to it hung several different whips and beneath, a drawer was situated. This contained all of Helena’s small knives, scissors, simple cuffs and the like.

By the other wall, a line of shelves had been hung and on it were what looked to be medieval torture instruments like the Pear of Anguish, the Spanish Tickler, the Thumbscrew, Crocodile Shears and so forth. Helena didn’t often use her older torture devices as they had lost their magic a while ago to her, but if she was really serious about hurting someone, in terms of revenge, they would be taken into use. She’d never used any of them on Kaleigh as she tended to… want to actually keep her alive and not die from bloodloss. At the end wall, Helena had an older torture device called the rack, placed. It was a fun one, although she usually wanted to be a little more hands on with her victims. Mostly they were all displayed to cause fear, and they did. The sight of these things usually brought on a bout of panic which was always amusing to watch. Helena’s red eyes turned to Kaleigh. “Clothes off, little bird,” she told her, that sliver of sadistic glee back in her voice. She was getting back into the mood.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten
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The house was warmer than the club, the scent of humans lingering strongly in the air. Enough blood had been spilt in their stay to make it smell like their three pets, especially the mischievous male. As Oliver climbed the stairs he gripped the banister tightly, his strength cracking the wood in places. He felt too present, aware of the weight of his bloody clothes. Every time he blinked he saw the two women he had just killed, the lifeless eyes of the pretty blond staring out at him from the floor, her lips pulled into a blissful smile, her blue eyes wide but without the heat of passion. The other’s was tilted away from how she had landed, but he knew her face too, pulled back into pure terror and pain. Both of them couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. He doubted the blond was more than seventeen, likely having snuck in on a fake ID. That meant she had parents who cared for her, possibly a boyfriend in the crowd. They were both dead at his sadistic hands. He’s just dropped them there, one of them right into the bloody toilet initially.

Oliver knew Helena was not pleased either. She hadn’t made a sound when he had stalked by, meaning she would likely do something about that irritation later. Whether he or the pets would be the target he did not know, nor when. He just continued on anyways. He could never avoid her. Worse, he knew she was pleased that he was like this again, feeling the weight of his crimes. He went from the powerful unfeeling vampire to this weak being all at once. The hate was there for the first time in a long while for all that he was. It twisted his features, his lips tight and his eyebrows knitted. His shoulders were tense too. He was so wound up that he failed to realize his usual bathroom was occupied. He moved to open the door only it was locked. He stepped back and it opened, a cloud of steam rushing out with none other than Scarlett. The scent of the blond pet hit him like a brick wall.

“Christ!” Scarlett cried out. She stepped back, startled. Oliver couldn’t even focus on the state of his being, how he looked like he had showered in blood, how it dripped from his hair, his chin and his clothes, dried in other patches. He looked horrific and he was still murderous. He didn’t want her there. The scent of her blood made his fangs jut into his tongue momentarily. Immediately he cursed lowly, stepping back and away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“I... I’m sorry,” She muttered. Oliver looked at her, clenching his teeth and wishing she would just move. He said nothing, holding his breath instead. If he breathed in any more of her clean scent – all paired with her freshly shampooed hair and the perfume of her body lotion – he would take her then. And then he would really be in trouble because he would have killed yet another pet.

“... Are you okay?” she asked. Oliver rolled his eyes. Before he could respond however, Helena appeared. Like a lightning strike the elder bolted between them, taking no haste in wrapping her hand around his throat. Oliver sputtered, knowing better than to lash out at her. He let her lift him off the ground, snarling as she dug her nails into his throat.

“What did you do, dearie?” she taunted. His eyes widened at that comment. She knew just by looking at him. She knew too well that he only came home like this when he snapped, when his conscience kicked in and all he wanted to do was drown himself, to be something else. Of course, she was almost tired of seeing him like this now. He was less depressed and self inflicting now, knowing that he couldn’t go through with killing himself – and moreover that she would never let him – and hence less fun. Now he only brooded which proved to piss her off. Oliver didn’t care. It was Helena. She had made him and Oliver didn’t have it in him to please her. Fucking bitch.

“Because I think the puppy misbehaved… and you know what I do to little puppies who misbehave,” Helena threatened him. The nickname had him twist in her hands but her grip was too tight for him to speak. “Clean up your mess, little puppy, or there will be no sweets for you,” she concluded before thrusting him into the wall and darting back down the staircase. Oliver snarled again as she departed, watching her back and listening as he beckoned Dmitri and Kaleigh into the basement, knowing that they would be on the receiving end of his punishment. He had, after all, now put Helena into a nasty mood,

Oliver turned back to Scarlett, running a hand through his hair and finding it crusted with dried blood too. “I’m never okay,” he finally answered her, before he shouldered by her into the bathroom and closed the door behind him before she could reply. The stupid tantalizing human was always there to tempt him. But in the entirety of his life he had never drank from a human and not killed them.

The bathroom mirror was still covered in steam when he stepped inside which was all the better given how little he wanted to see his reflection again. Oliver peeled the ruined clothing off him and turned the shower on to a scalding hot temperature. He bathed himself, watching the water run red beneath his feet. He took a nail brush and scrubbed at his skin, watching it wash away. As a vampire, his skin was not porous so thankfully it was quicker to wash himself clean. Still the sight brought him back to his vampire hunting days. Every kill ended up being a blood bath and the motions of scrubbing his skin raw were the same. What was different was the remorse. Killing vampires had been a godly act. He had gotten high off the feeling of killing such evil beings. Now that he killed humans, it was only a rush when his conscience didn't kick in. Often now it didn't but today it hit him hard. The more he scrubbed at his fingers, the more the other faces came to him. All of his other victims were buried and disposed of...except for the two girls in the club. And God only knew what the authorities would think of that. Which meant he had to leave again. That thought made him grumble as he claimed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and proceeded to his room.

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Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten
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Her hazel eyes trailed over Oliver’s bloodied figure. Her mouth slightly agape, unable to think of anything other than blood. Blood was a strange thing; the liquid of life, running and passing through veins, supplying oxygen to vital organs and keeping the human hydrated. It reached outward with the limbs and pulsed with the heart. It was blue inside, transformed red outside, and dried brown. How much blood did human really have? About 5.6 liters. Scarlett answered her own question. Her mind raced, analyzing what was in front of her. She blinked a couple of times, unable to say anything else. She felt embarrassed, and a bit afeared. Scar wished more than anything he hadn’t startled her. It was too late for apologies though.

In a lightning flash Helena was in front of her, punishing Oliver. As if he didn’t feel bad enough already. As the elder vampire dug her fingernails into him, Scar’s face turned sour. She wasn’t upset by the flesh breaking, but Helena’s act for control. In all honesty, Scarlett hated how she treated the other vampires. Perhaps it was just the fact that they were kind to her and Helena was not, nonetheless it bothered her. Then again, Helena was gracious enough to let Scarlett stay with them; gracious enough to let her live this long.

Unable to get past the two, Scarlett watched as Helena teased at the tortured Oliver. A certain rage boiled in her, but Scarlett knew better. So she remained silent, and reverted to keeping her eyes to the ground. They etched over the tiles as she only listened to the words Helena oozed out, as hateful as the vampire was there was a certain elegance and growl to her voice that Scar admired. It was both powerful and seductive; leisure and up tight.

With a suddenly crash against the wall, Scarlett’s head jolted up. Helena was gone, off to play with the other humans. Oliver was too upset to even stop for a moment, “I’m never okay.”. He shouldered past her, taking his turn to rinse off his shame. Filled with concern she turned around stubbornly, “Oliver!” She called back at him, the door slammed in her face at the same time.

Scarlett’s shoulders dropped, then she turned around to go to her bedroom. The room was spotless, as was most of the house. In fact, she was proud to say that she was getting very good at housekeeping. If things didn’t work out here, and she actually made it out alive, maybe she would become a maid. A bit flustered, she dressed quickly in a relaxed outfit; a over sized cream sweater that and a pair of brown leggings with a pair of orange slippers.

Sitting on her bed, she fiddled with her Ipod. It exclusively held only hundreds if not thousands of classical piano pieces. Often times when the Fallen were off hunting she would listen to a piece then directly repeat it on the piano. She had that remarkable ability, to be able to listen to a song once through and play it back perfectly. Unsure of what to do, and knowing she didn’t want anything to do with what was happening down stairs, she listened to a new piece.

Soon she was out of her room and making her way to the music room. Her footsteps were quiet, childishly wanting to be secret. A part of her actually thought if she were quiet enough they would not detect her or her piano playing. Before she slinked down the stairs, Scar walked up to Oliver’s door. Lifted her hand, then stopped short. What was she doing? He didn’t want to be bothered, let alone by her. Scarlett bit at her lip then turned back to her original destination.

It was beat up, old baby grand, but it would do. In fact, if someone had taken care of it the thing would have been quite beautiful still. Her pale hand laced around the curved edge as she made her way to the bench. Taking her seat, the song played over in her head. Only a moment longer before her mind quieted, done analyzing the song she had just heard. Her fingers touched the rough and abused ivory, floating above the keys that would resonate such sweet sounds.

With just enough pressure she began playing one of Liszt’s. She even took great care in pressing down the soft pedal, somehow hoping that the others would not hear her play.

Oh how foolish she was. Scarlett was silly to think that no one knew of this talent she tried so hard to hide. It was times like these when she forgot that she lived with beings who had heightened senses.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Derek Fleitner Character Portrait: Eva Clarke Character Portrait: Adonis Charmides Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Isaac Warren
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Eva couldn’t focus on anything else but the tall and brooding vampire before her. Derek’s presence stole all of her attention. She watched him and wrestled with her own hands in her lap as he momentarily looked out the window. She heard a scuffle and then Isaac shouting. The brunette watched Derek with parted lips and mild concern. Was something serious happening outside? Then his lips pulled into a wry smirk and she exhaled a sigh, knowing that if it was really bad – whatever was happening that is – he would have left her there and gone to help. He turned back to her and she went rigid the moment his eyes landed on her. She curled her toes involuntarily, wrenched by the power of his gaze.

“Mostly…” he told her, replying to her earlier question as to how he was, “I’m hungry.” His voice was jagged and sharp, the slight rasp causing another wave of goose flesh to tear up her arms. She shivered and as she shook he suddenly moved towards her and almost like her daydream, he pulled her to stand. Only with the force and momentum of his inhuman speed, Derek pinned her to the wall. Eva was immediately breathless, her body heaving with air as her senses were suddenly driven wild by his touch. He held her hands at her waist, but not too tightly. Never too tightly. He was gentle and yet forceful. Just like that damned book. It made her moan lowly.

“I know,” she breathed lowly, looking into his eyes in flashes. She looked up at him and then down at the floor several times, somewhat baffled by how fast he moved. Still, the proximity was driving her mad. She wanted him to be this close. But most of all, she wanted him to be doing other things. He leaned in then, and Eva tilted her head away from him, leaning her forehead into his shoulder, feeling his lips graze her throat. Her fingers tensed into fists. She was pinned and could do nothing but feel what he wanted her to feel.

“And you smell amazing,” Derek added. The low tone of his voice so close to her body sent vibrations through her torso. Eva straightened all at once, sighing with a groan, knowing she shouldn’t be enjoying this so much but she did. She loved this. She would die to have this happen every hour of every day with this man…this vampire. He made her feel like she was on fire, his cold touch like flames to her skin, igniting something so passionate and heated in her core. It had to be real. This feeling, this was what all the books talked about didn’t they? When you just knew you couldn’t live without something or someone.

His hands released her wrists, pushing her closer to the wall. His body leaned into hers and her legs were locked between his. While her hands were free, she could do nothing but reach out to brace herself by holding onto his sides. He held her head steady and she leaned her chin towards the support he offered with his palm. She closed her eyes then, softly, her hands squeezing him. She hummed lowly, a sign she had developed in the time he had been feeding on her – as if to say I’m ready. Derek ran his fangs along her throat and she felt her skin react as if tickled.

Then it came – hesitation. Eva felt him stop moving and she flickered her eyes open, batting her lashes as if dazed. She was high from having Derek so close, from having his hands on her. She wanted him to bite into her, to feed. She wanted that release. But he was delaying it and he sighed then and she began to wonder. That momentary lapse in thinking led to surprise.

“I apologize for this,” he whispered. “Wha--?” Eva began to mumble. Then it came. The bite was vicious, like nothing before. She couldn’t suppress the natural squeal of surprise that came from her throat. Eva’s eyes widened and she groaned, feeling the discomfort of his fangs before the natural numbing proceeded. Isaac had explained once that vampires dosed humans with toxins before drinking, making the moment pleasurable or horrific. Normally, Derek would spread that orgasmic good feeling throughout the whole of her body but something was off in this instance. He pulled back quicker than any time before and suddenly was drinking. And quickly. The normal numbness, the high, the sensual orgasmic feelings that had accompanied the nine previous times were almost absent. She felt him pull the blood from her veins and it was uncomfortable. Eva clenched her teeth, tightening her grip on his hips. He kept going, so quickly she was rapidly light headed. “Derek…” she whispered, urgently. The numbness came in her feet quickly and within seconds she knew that if he pulled back she would collapse.

She knew she had had enough suddenly. Eva had never hit the point before but her body began to resist him even though her heart and mind were more than willing to let him keep going. Her hands released his sides, her left slapping the wall. Eva tried to move her feet again, fidgeting. Any heat, any excitement she had felt before was gone. She felt raw and sore all at once, numb in places but above all just plain loopy. When she opened her eyes again, Eva saw stars. The bedside lamp on her nightstand suddenly seemed ten times brighter. His voice was louder in her ears. She felt like she was falling when she suddenly reached out to grip his shoulders, to hold on while her heart felt like it was racing for dear life in her ears. She had never felt like this before. "I feel sick," she struggled to tell him. Her hands were shaking by the time he pulled back. Eva felt jarred when she heard someone move loudly past her bedroom door. The steps loudly continued up to the attic staircase beyond her room. She knew at once it was Adonis and sudden crashing noises had her concerned. Yet just as suddenly as it happened, she forgot about it, her focus on Derek and what he was doing, listening for...anything.





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Scarlett lingered on Oliver’s mind as he moved back to the room he had claimed as his own. The blonde’s fresh scent remained heavy in the halls, taunting the monster within him. Oliver subdued his desire to drain the pet with another wave of images of his most recent victims. So many blondes came to mind. All young women. All eerily like Scarlett. His subconscious was speaking for itself. He was angry as he dropped is towel and dressed himself in clean clothing. Why did he want this girl so bad? Why didn’t he just go through with it, as he always had? What was so special about her that he almost wanted to keep her alive. Well obviously he did. Was he actually able to control himself around her and prevent himself from drinking? He had never, ultimately, been able to keep himself away from a human he had wanted. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had never made it more than six weeks without finally killing that person. Scarlett had been with the Fallen coven for months – no…years!

Oliver paused as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyebrows furrowing with the thought. How had he failed to recognize this? This was good wasn’t it? But how long had it been since he had been able to think this rationally? Years? Had he lapsed that long just to please Helena? Was he really enjoying the power of being a vampire for such extended periods of time now? It shook him up and he felt his lips twitching as he moved to take in his personal space. One wall was exposed brick. His double bed backed onto it, the frame simple. The bedding was still astray from when he had tried to lay still the day before. His unrest had led him to hunting, and to killing again. He hadn’t been able to occupy his mind lately. Today he was about to pull an old leather bound diary from a small dresser when the old groaning sound of the house’s beat up piano filled his ears. Oliver tilted his head, feeling the frustration ebb slightly. The song was light and smooth. His mother had used to play the piano, when he was human and had hated them all. But the sound felt like home and suddenly he was closing the drawer and moving away from his bedroom to the hall, following the noise like a butterfly to flame. He found himself in the doorway to the large upstairs loft area, his eyes raking in Scarlett’s back. He should have known.

For awhile he stood in listened as the song gained intensity. He watched as her fingers danced over the keys, how her head swayed with the song and how her body seemed to curl over the keyboard, moving from one stretch to another, lost in the song. The smell of her was tantalizing and he could feel his fangs extend, releasing pleasure toxins into his mouth. The venom gathered on his tongue bitterly and he swallowed, recognizing that he needed to leave, to clean up his mess as Helena called it. He sighed, walking away from the blonde without a word. He moved quickly, knowing that if he hesitated he wouldn’t leave. He forced himself down the stairs and out the door. He was there long enough to hear Kaleigh begging between sobs. It was enough to send him running back to the bar, stopping only to collect a few important things.

He hadn’t truly been away that long. An hour and a half tops. Surprisingly the bouncer he had persuaded to bar the bathrooms was still at his post. No police cars, ambulances or other human organizations were present. No one had been discovered yet it seemed. He leapt up the fire escape, unemotional as he returned to the bathroom window he had broken through. He looked inside, the bodies where he had left them, water still streaming out of the broken sink. It was almost knee deep and the dead women floated earlier, their blood swirling ominously. He crawled through, wading through his mess to claim their bodies. The water was doing enough to remove evidence of his presence, and of them. Still, he wasn’t stupid enough to leave traces of their blood. He hauled the two corpses over his shoulder, kicking in the broken faucet to bend it closed. He hauled them out onto the escape before he withdrew a bottle of gasoline from his coat, stolen from a campfire stove in the neighbors shed. He tore the cap off the canister, splashing it up the walls and bathroom stalls before crawling back through again, standing close enough to light a match, hissing at the flame before chucking it through. The water mixed with the gas to burn brilliantly. The heat flashed through the window, one blast enough to sear the back of his neck. It healed quickly as he hoisted the bodies onto his shoulder, his face grim as he jumped onto the rooftop and moved to a conservation area behind a local park. It was closed at night and he was able to do what he needed to do, disposing of the two women as Helena had requested. He moved fast, not wanting to spend more time than he needed looking at their faces, still it was time consuming. In a good way, however, he was focused on the task at hand and not the situation at home. Or Scarlett.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon
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Helena the Bloody


Helena smiled to herself when Kaleigh shrieked loudly, the sound ringing her ears. It was a sound of embarrassment, not pain, but it would do for now. Besides, she could feel Dmitri’s gaze pointed towards the two of them, and that alone told her exactly what she needed to know. Had it just been himself, Dmitri would have remained defiant, spitting venomous words instead of complying. Oh, this was a lovely little bit of information, wasn’t it? As she was about to move towards Kaleigh with the intention of forcing her onto her legs, however, she straightened entirely, closing her eyes. She thought she’d caught a whiff of her beloved Kristof, and she soon found that was exactly what she had.

It was still vague, but it was there, and it caused another kind of smile to brighten her face; one of excitement and joy. She had missed her companion unbearably and to have him back would entirely cure her of the boredom still guiding her actions. Her grin widened when she then detected humans with him. Aw, thoughtful puppy, wasn’t he? She had yet to be able to distinct them properly but it wouldn’t be long. In the meantime, feeling giddy with this news, the redhead moved, her legs taking her to Kaleigh with vampiric speed, and she grabbed one of the girl’s arms, yanking her up forcefully before lifting her up in one smooth movement.

Helena put Kaleigh on the metal table easily, starting to hum the tune of Prokofiev’s "Montagues And Capulets", voice lyrical and pure as she methodically chained up the girl, not really paying attention to her words or reactions, instead her nose and ears were busy keeping track of Kristof and his three girls. An O positive – Kristof got the good ones -, an O negative, it seemed, and a single A positive. Hmm. Oliver wasn’t home, but he would be soon enough, even if she didn’t think him deserving of another meal. Honestly, however, the scent of Kristof himself was what had her riled up the most. Their attraction had been instant. As soon as she had turned him, electricity had sparked between them, and it hadn’t stopped since. Instead, it had only gotten all the more intense with their many years together.

Once she had secured Kaleigh on the cold, metal surface, heavy, spiked chains artfully draped and wrapped on her body, the small spikes boring into her skin, deep enough to pierce skin and draw blood, but not violently so. Instead, every one of them had barely a trickle of the red life force. It would hurt one hell of a lot should she move, however, because they would only go deeper. Her smile broadened, satisfied with her work as she stopped humming her former tune, replacing it with the oddly calming work of James Newton Howard in “The Gravel Road”. It was an odd combination, considering Helena’s actions as she got out a small knife, not speaking a word as she, smiling, put the tip right above Kaleigh’s navel, slowly cutting a skin-piercing pattern all over her torso.

It was painful, yes, but what Helena had in mind would be even more so, so right now all she was doing was… in preparation, which showed in her lack of reaction to anything Kaleigh or Dmitri did right now; she was focused on her task, and on making it as artful as possible, in spite of the fact that she couldn’t actually see it. She registered Kristof speaking to the girls outside, but she had yet to finish with her work, and so she kept going, only just finishing when the scent of another’s O positive caught her attention. Her head snapped up then, a grin spreading on her face. That’s right! Kristof was home! With guests!! By now, Kaleigh’s upper body was a beautiful, albeit morbid, pattern of shallow cuts.

Giddy with excitement all of a sudden, Helena dropped the knife in her hand, leaving it bloody on the floor, and Kaleigh bloody on her metal table, Dmitri still tied to his chair and she leaped up the stairs, her movement a blur as she pounced on Kristof, her slender arms wrapped tightly around his neck in a moment, pushing him against the nearest wall, which groaned with the force. She grinned up at him, her lips then brushing kisses up his jaw. “Mmm,” she purred, before nibbling on his ear, nicking it slightly, but she licked away the drop of blood that surfaced slowly. “You’re home!” she exclaimed then, excitement clear in her voice.

Then she turned her unseeing eyes towards the kitchen, the source of noise, before she grinned slowly, a wolfish grin; one of a predator. “And you brought playthings,” she added, very pleased with him, Kaleigh and Dmitri completely forgotten, arms still around her favorite vampire. She had missed his touch. Missed his scent. The sound of his voice. But yes, most of all, the feeling of Kristof was… amazing.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon
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Helena the Bloody


When Kristof’s fangs brushed against the skin of Helena’s neck, her eyes automatically slid close, a soft purr emitting from her throat. She loved the way he held her; so firm and dominant, forceful almost. Helena craved it just as much as she needed control in the basement. Although she was 400-some years older than Kristof, he had always been strong for his age, and well, she always let him dominate her like this, because she loved it, and so did he. Kristof, even as a human, had been an exceedingly dominant figure, and it had not changed nor diminished with years, which was a joy, because Helena would have probably lost interest if he’d ever changed in that manner.

She grinned when he interpreted her correctly, and pressed his forehead against hers. Her eyelids slid up again, allowing him to see her fully blood-red eyes. Helena’s irises had looked to bleed over when her vision had started fading, and now they were… well, gone. She had the white like all others had, but her actual eyes were fully red, oftentimes glowing with one emotion or another. It was a wonder that though she saw nothing, her eyes were still highly expressive of her current emotion. Maybe that was because Helena’s blindness was not a natural one. In fact, she was the only vampire she’d ever heard of who’d gone blind.

Not that she particularly needed her sight, but she did miss looking at the people around her, Kristof especially. She remembered what he looked like clearly, but they were old memories. Centuries old, to be frank. When he began feeling her up, his hand wandering along her body, she smirked, wanting him badly already. “It seems the feeling’s mutual,” she murmured in Old Italian, his native Roman language. The two had a tendency to switch between languages all the time, although mostly English, Ancient Greek (as was her native language, which she had taught only him), and Old Italian.

Whenever they spoke of something no one else was to hear, things switched to Ancient Greek, a more or less lost language. Some could read it, but none could understand it when spoken. She giggled when he told her of his plans for food. “Aw, you know how much I like fastfood,” she purred, a grin on her face. However, the mood change almost suddenly from playful to intense when he kissed her, his mouth demanding, craving and taking exactly what it wanted from her. She gave in, her body his to command as she responded, lips working with his, letting him set the pace like always. It was an odd contrast, in reality. Then again, most things with Helena were odd contrasts.

She moaned lowly into his kiss when his fang made her blood available to him, her eyes rolling back. This was bliss, and in response, her nails dug into the back of his neck, the other hand pulling on his hair tightly, although it took quite a bit more to tear out the hair of a vampire than that of a human, fortunately, or both herself and Kristof would be bald by now. Even through the pleasure, Helena was highly aware of everything around her. The three females moving outside, the door slamming way too obviously behind them. She was glad. No hunting was really as fun inside. Generally humans were terribly slow, and so both she and Kristof let them run off.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t track them down in the fraction of a second anyway, and there was no one around for miles. Plus, she was busy as it was. But Kristof drew back, causing her to pout playfully at him. Soon, however, she was laughing with glee, slammed against the wall as she was now, she felt it groaning behind her. Her legs tightened around Kristof, as her laughter turned into an excited grin, her eyes alight with lust for him and him alone. Helena’s body was responding to Kristof’s like clockwork, not missing a beat, and she couldn’t help but feel expectations building. Sex was one of the few things Helena could always focus on, no matter how insane a period she was in. Maybe that was part of the draw; how clear her mind became.

“I’d say two,” she noted, tilting her head slightly to the side as she listened to the girls, their breathing pattern and their frantic discussions on which direction to go. They would divide soon enough… once they heard a wolf howling, or the like. She much preferred it that way, in fact. Rather three singles than one group. It was more fun playing with them like that, letting them hear each other screaming from afar, building the fear. “They’re rather out of shape. The adrenaline won’t last forever.” She let her tongue slide over an exposed fang, a wolfish grin again on her face. “And it’s much more fun to spike the fear back up again once they think they’re out of danger. They’ll be tired and frantic.”

She hissed at him suddenly when he spoke of making her wait, her nails digging deeper into his neck. She wasn’t angry, nor was she upset per se – in fact, again she was oddly aroused by his teasing – but she was frustrated. Helena wasn’t accustomed to going two days without sex, and she missed it. She could feel his attention shifting, though, and she tilted her head to the other side, listening, her senses working furiously to make up for her lacking sight. He was sniffing the air, she gathered instantly.

Then he growled, speaking of Oliver. The scent of the blood he had dragged home was still heavy in the air, but Kaleigh’s blood was mixing with it. The female vampire made a sound in the back of her throat, almost like a mixture between a growl and a hiss, at the reminder. Oliver had blissfully slipped her mind for a while, but now it all came rushing back. “Little puppies shouldn’t be allowed to roam free without supervision,” she replied coolly, which was basically Helena for “oh yeah.” She closed her eyes, burying her face in the crook of his neck, his scent calming her instantly. This was Kristof’s gift, even if he did nothing to acquire it; he could draw her back into reality simply by being near.

“He’s cleaning up his mess,” she purred then, back to calm, even if she knew Kristof would be furious with Oliver until he had gotten rid of the immediate anger in some way. On the subject of messes, Helena straightened as thoughts of Kaleigh and Dmitri caused a cruel smile to curl on her lips, her brain finally telling her that she had heard their conversation in the basement. Dmitri was crying, oh it was simply too good. “Oh, I heard a little bird singing,” she told him, changing the subject like only Helena could. “And she just helped me break our stubborn blood.” She grinned, victorious.

She didn’t even think of how weird her words were, or how they could be taken in a hundred different ways. Besides, Kristof had known her long enough to figure out what she was telling him. Mostly because these were things they had spoken of before. She shifted her attention to the girls, who were tiring themselves out. One had already been parted from the others. All she had to do was wait for the two remaining to lose each other. Then the games could begin.

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Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Lucan Norvel
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Roxanne was rather bored. At the current moment in time, she was casually walking around the dark city, through alleyways and backways, the lights dim and dull. She much preferred these dark paths than the bright main streets; she felt more at home with her face half hidden by shadows, especially in her dark outfit. The heels of her boots clicked on the pavement as she walked, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her leather jacket. She looked a little disheveled, and was on her way to a nearby club, to readjust her appearance before heading home for the rest of the evening; the ruffled look came from her meal that evening. The young male that she had picked to drain that night had fought against her, despite the bleak outlook for his coming out of it alive. He had gotten a few strands of her hair and pulled them out of place, before she had sunk her teeth into his neck.

A small, glee-filled shudder ran through Rox's body as her mind flicked back to the taste of the blood, the feeling of the warm liquid trickling down her throat. It was making her hungry, actually, thinking about food. The small smirk on her face would have alerted anyone that she knew to the arousal that was growing inside her right now; thinking about blood usually got her heated. She was going to have to go home soon and head to Lucan's room... hopefully he'd be in. Ah, Lucan. That was a strange relationship. That was why tonight's meal had gotten a hand on her - he looked a little bit like the vampire she was slowly growing feelings for. That was why she had picked him over the young girl that she had had her eye on all night. Rox rolled her eyes as she moved towards the club, shaking her head softly, trying to rid her mind of images of Lucan in all his glory. Seeing as how men had used her in the past, the blonde was disgusted with herself for even thinking about a man in a romantic light, especially on who didn't care about her feelings at all. That was why she had escaped from his bed upon waking up that morning without disturbing him, horrified with herself for falling asleep wrapped up in his arms. Another shudder shocked through her body as she came up to the door of the club, this time one of disgust and hatred for herself.

Roxanne was instantly let into the club; a regular haunt of hers. She usually picked up her prey there, as the sea was rather close, easily for her to dump bodies in. She headed straight towards the bathrooms, navigating her way through the smoke-filled, dark environment expertly. As she came nearer to the door of the female toilets however, the smell of urine, cheap perfume and alcohol was replaced by the lingering scene of delicious blood. The blonde stopped in her tracks, and directed her nose towards the male stalls instead. Yup. The smell was definitely coming from in there. Another scent then hit her nose, one that she hadn't expected to stumble across that night. Instead of heading straight outside and searching for the owner of said scent however, Rox moved into the female bathrooms, determined to sort out her appearance first. There was still a small trickle of blood running down from the corner of her lips, one that she removed with her finger, sucking the blood off almost erotically. Her hand then ran through her blonde locks, moving the messed strands into the normal place. Finally, the red lipstick that she always carried around with her came out of her small bag, and was applied thickly onto her lips.

Soon, Rox was back outside, the cool night air clearing the disgusting smell of the club from her nostrils. She was soon able to pick up Oliver's scent, and she moved at a brisk pace in his direction, coming across him fairly quickly.

"Oliver, Oliver... never before has a boy wanted more... " Roxanne sang from the darkness, her voice mocking and creepy. A sardonic smirk appeared on her lips as she came out of the shadows, the light from the fire that he had just started illuminating her face. "Did we fuck up again, Ollie?"

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Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten
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The conservation area was what many humans would consider silent. To Oliver however, it was a lively playground of life. With his conscience ever present, he paid mind to every sound. He barely thought as he carried the bodies of his two victims deep into the woodland. His steps were quick and light. He was melodic and smooth, his gait near perfect. He was for all intents and purposes, silent. The pressure of his weight didn’t so much as break a twig. He stared forward, one body slung over each shoulder. His hands grasped their dead bodies tightly, the girl’s hair swaying behind him with each step. The further he moved, the more wildlife seemed to sing to him. The orchestra of crickets was deafening and yet homely. It brought him back to his youth in Spain, to the coast and their summer trips to the ocean. It made him remember his youngest sister Katarina. He could close his eyes and see it so clearly. He had been fifteen, confused by their parents decision to convert to Christianity. They were to be baptized the next day at the church, the monolithic building intimidating to them both. His sister was no older than eight but she was incredibly intelligent. Of all his family members, Oliver was closest to her. She was the least drawn into the religious debate but she was far more obedient than him.

They had been laying in the tall grass by the beach, the sound of the waves behind them, no more than half a kilometer away. “What’s the noise?” she asked suddenly. The crickets were so loud then too, just the same. They had been laying there long enough that the creatures appeared to have forgotten they were there. Katarina had never been out late enough to hear them, and even if she had she had never paid them any mind until today. Oliver had always seemed to hear them, feeling grounded by the sound and wishing so many days that he could just understand the nature of human beings. He felt above this age of history, so confused by the importance that people put in God. What about leaders? What about those who could stop these armies of people from coming in and sacking their great cities? Could anyone? He knew they could. Great cities in the east aimed to protect their people. What of Spain and his homeland who seemed so content to let their cities be run over and slaughtered?

“They’re crickets ducle,” he had told her. My pretty sister. So sweet. So innocent.

Oliver stopped in his treck to drop the bodies in front of him. As the corpses slammed into the earth the crickets in his vicinity immediately stopped chirping. He could hear a rabbit dart through the brush three hundred meters away and half a dozen birds become restless in their various nests around him. He looked up into the sky then, before looking down at his victims, frowning sourly before bringing his hands through his hair, sighing to try and relieve the tension he felt building. The ugly feeling was so present. For the first time in four years… To a human that was a long time to go without incident and for him in truth it was. But to his coven it was one amongst a thousand messes he had made, and four years made no difference when they were all nearly a millennium in age. He was in this mindset when he heard the wrestle of air as another vampire was inbound. He could smell her a mile away. Roxanne. In a blink she was standing before him, ready to tsk.

"Oliver, Oliver... never before has a boy wanted more..." Roxanne sang. Oliver tilted his head back and rolled his eyes, shaking his head at his coven sister. "Did we fuck up again, Ollie?" she chirped and he pursed his lips. “If I had fucked up, they wouldn’t be here, they would be in the bar where they died, one in the toilet and the other blocking the door,” he growled. He knelt down in the dirt, his eyes flashing over the blond he had killed, her resemblance so uncanny to Scarlett it was startling. He could smell the remnants of her blood and it was enough to sent a shiver up his spine, pulling at his vampiric desire to devour the corpse, to shred it and consume what was left of her dying blood cells, the A negative calling to him. He cast it aside, however, pressing his hands into her spine and snapping it without a second thought. He kept his left hand pinning her down before he tore off her arms and then her legs, and lastly her head.

With the parts disassembled he proceeded to the second one. He was never one to burn a body, maybe in the old days when fires were common and remains were impossible to identify. Part of him wanted to leave the girls somewhere to be found, so that the people who loved them would know they were dead. Instead he knew he was dooming a family to grieve with the unknown, the parts never to be found. He didn’t know why but he suddenly stuffed his hand into the pocket of the girls jeans, withdrawing an ID card. Within a flash he stowed it into his pocket before he proceeded to dig a hole, not even caring if Roxanne helped him or if she left. He had to bury her and the act was likely more than enough for his blond coven sister to realize that he was having one of his ‘episodes’ as Helena called it, or experiencing vampire psychosis according to Kristof. Its my humanity that refuses to leave me, recurring just to remind me that I am an abomination… he thought to himself grimly as he clawed away with the earth with lightning speed, casting away dirt so fast that within two minutes he had a hole twelve feet deep dug, wide enough to through in their parts and to stow them far below the earth where anyone could ever find them.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Derek Fleitner Character Portrait: Angiluzza Maniscalco Character Portrait: Alessa Dattolo Character Portrait: Adonis Charmides Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Annabelle Jefferson Character Portrait: Isaac Warren
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Annabelle knew all too well what she had let herself in for as she stood at the door to Adonis's room. He was a hard one to control, she would never deny that, but she found him interesting; ironcially enough like the rest of the men in the covern. Of course, the whole process was purely objective and scientific; Annabelle wasn't curious because she wanted them. Well in most case at least. After observing Adonis for a while, the blonde vampire had concluded that the person he put on to most people, was in fact, an act. But what was he like inside and what was he trying to hide?

She stood with a hand on her hip, a dismayed looked on her face as Adonis opened the door; only letting a single eyeball show as he asked what she wanted in her business was in Portuguese. She raised an eyebrow; he'd never be that forward with Alessa, why to her? The boy needed learn a little respect for the people he lived with. 'I came,' She began coldly, ' To check how you were. That was quite some chase you had in the woods earlier. Oh and please don't speak in Portuguese to me, I much prefer Spanish.' The blonde smiled as she fondly remembered the little experiment she had conducted a few hundred years ago. Ah Oiliver, what a lovely reunion that would be.

Annie was also acutely aware that she had probably just offended Adonis; but eh what did she care? The male seemed to have no appreciation for the fact she'd come to check on him. She sighed, 'Look, there's food in the kitchen, I believe Jasper's making something... I'll see you later.' She ended the brief encounter; fully satisfied that the male was healthy enough. Annie didn't show a lot of compassion, when she did it only came out as anger; like with Isaac earlier. Right now the blonde wished she stayed with the brown haired male rather than and find Adonis.

Turning on her heel, Annie searched for Isaac's scent. Traces of it still lingered in the hallway and it the basement for some reason. However, it was strongest in his bedroom. Annie gathered her thoughts for a second. She had done an awful lot of tracking him down lately. What if that came across as desperate? She snorted at herself inwardly. What was this? A seven hundred and nine year old vampire weak at the knee's of what, in vampire terms, was a boy. This could be dangerous for her, she needed to talk to Derek or Angel; most probably Derek, just because the conversation would be a more sane level, even if it was on a more objective and cold one.

For now though, Annie traveled to Isaac's room. He was the best company the blonde had expierenced for a long time. She loved her covern, of course she did and she was grateful for everything they had done. But never had she felt so comfortable around anyone as she did Isaac. Of course, she loved Angel like a sister, but there was just something about Isaac that turned her world upside down and made her feel safe at the same time. Quickly, she knocked on Isaac's Door;

'So, the rude little so and so didn't need my help... Can we go for a run before I self conbust' She said plainly.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Lucan Norvel Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten
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#, as written by Vix
Lucan shrugged some. "Smells like your boyfriend lost it again." He gave a light snicker. He was among the others who found Oliver's predicament rather amusing. Oliver was alright enough. A crybaby. But when he wasn't moping, he was decent company. Scarlet...? She was Scarlet. A strange human, indeed. Lucan had no personal issues with her, oh no! In fact, he loved feeding from her. Copping a feel here and there. He wasn't close enough to Oliver to feel bad about his sexual encounters with her. Sighing, he moved towards her and was about to ask how she was when the sounds of Kristof and Helena's love making reached his ears. No doubt they would need to redo the downstairs. Again. He rolled his eyes some, but he couldn't say much; He and Roxanne were the same way.

He cleared his throat as if dismissing the sound, knowing they'd be done soon anyways. Helena loved to hunt. No doubt they'd make love on the hunt as well. When they finally left, he gave a light nod. "Ah! The joys of making love. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Scarlett?" A smirk curved across his lips as he advanced towards her with a wink. He moved just close enough to tower over her. He cupped the left side of her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "But, that shall have to wait, m'dear. As you have chores to do. Away you go." He quickly ushered her out of his room and closed the door behind her.

"Crazy kids." He muttered, referencing to Dmitri and Kaleigh below. He would gladly help the lovebirds, but it wasn't his place. Hell, if he so much as looked at Kaleigh, Helena would beat him to a pulp. So, he reserved to speak with Dmitri later. For now, he moved towards his pups, scratching them behind their ears. He would take them out hunting when Helena and Kristof returned - They scared away the animals when they hunted. Plus the pups weren't fond of either of the two vampires.




Kaleigh's words touched Dmitri's heart, forcing another tear to trickle down his face and drip from his chin. "You know I won't, baby doll. I can't. I love you too much." He smiled some. That was the first time he had admitted to her how he felt. Sure, he had shown through subtle actions, but he always kept his mouth shut for fear of something like this. But with the cat out of the bag, he could scream it from the top of the world. If he lived long enough to get the chance.

The sounds coming from upstairs disgusted him, causing his face to contort. One day...one day he'd kill all of these monsters. Except Lucan...Lucan was kind when he wasn't being a douche. He was actually pretty civil. Dmitri thought to call out for help. For release. But Oliver would just come and break his leg, Roxanne would just sit there and laugh, and he didn't want to get Lucan in trouble. Scarlet was a nutjob, so that was out of the picture.

So he sat there in silence, wanting nothing more than to carry Kaleigh to his room and treat her wounds. To brush away the tears and hold her and kiss her. He'd let her wear one of his shirts and a pair of pajama pants. He'd play a song to make her smile. But, only God knew when Helena would release them. Or let them live. He was sure Kaleigh would live, but he wasn't sure that he would. He hoped that Kristof's return would put her in good enough spirits to keep him alive. He just wanted to hold his Kal one last time.




Kristof smirked as Helena zipped right by him. He could hear the girl screaming out as Helena laid down the law. It felt good to be so wanted. To have her be so possessive. It warmed his still heart. Helena had always been this way when it came to him. It would be a lie to say that he never lied to rile her up and get her to mutilate someone just for the hell of it.

He smiled blissfully, finally taking back up the scent of L'Nae so that he could catch his own prey. Her scent was heavily reeking of O negative, Captain Morgan, sex, tears, and steak. It was strong and overwhelming, making him damn near vomit. But it really wasn't about the meal right now - It was strictly the thrill of hunting. He let his predator instincts rule him, his legs moving strongly and carrying him swiftly, his feet not once making a sound nor turning a leaf nor snapping a twig.

And soon, there she was. The woman was by a waterfall, trying her best to hide. Smirking, he was behind her in an instant. He wasn't really a fan of playing with his meal. Nor was he the type to torture women. Men, yes. But when it came to women, he personally preferred to just kill them. And so he did. She didn't even know he was there, no sound coming from her except the snapping of the bones in her neck. He smiled, satisfied as he caught her body and hefted it over his shoulder and moved swiftly to Helena, toting the woman with him as though she were a prized kill.

Or a sack of potatoes.

He found his love soon enough and chuckled as she played her game. "Easy now, tigress." He growled playfully in Old Italian.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten
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He loathed her for watching over him like a hawk. Roxanne had always been amused to meddle. Oliver truly did not need her there in front of him, teasing him as he dug a hole three feet into the ground to bury the blonde’s head. Someone’s daughter, Likely a sister. He pushed her bloody hair to reveal an infinity tattoo behind her ear. For a moment he frowned, staring at it, feeling the guilt wash over him in a second wave. How could he do this to people? And so many of them through time. His hands trembled but he knew he was being watched, that Roxanne would report every detail to Helena. So he didn’t wallow like he normally did when he was lucid and burying his prey. His hands trembled and he shoved them inwards. The girl’s head collapsed inward violently. He dropped the remnants into the dirt, blood and brain dripping from his hands. He flicked his fingers and slashed his arm through the air to get rid of what remained on him. Oliver watched the girl’s guts spray the dirt, the grass and leaves shifting grossly. He tsked, disgusted. His nostrils flared as he stepped over toward the mountain of earth he had dug up. Flinging it back into the whole, he finished the last of the burial, shifting plants and shrubs back into place like an expert landscaper, not leaving a twig out of place. He didn’t care for Roxanne as he walked away, his misery heavy on his shoulders.

The city was lively when Oliver returned to it. He kept to the shadows and the alleyways, listening to people walk through the run down region. The moon was dark and the night hung heavy on the sleepy down. Hurling himself up a fire escape, he stood at the top of a short apartment building, surveying all he could see, trying to cope as his mind spun with renewed hunger. Slowly, Oliver brought his left hand up to his nose. He dragged his palm across his chin, drawing his tongue across his skin to take in the last bit of the girl’s blood where it stained his fingers. He breathed through the taste, letting his eyes rolls back and his throat grow fiery. He was never sated. He could never drown in blood. He felt the vampiric side of him fight for control. There were hundreds of potential victims nearby. A gaggle of girls hiccupped and stumbled towards a warehouse rave below him, all dressed in nearly non-existent dresses and heels, purses bouncing on their hips and arms. Their shrieks and giggles pained him. His left foot lurched forward, and suddenly he was standing at the edge of the roof, watching, practically salivating.

Oliver grunted, bringing his hands to his temples, snarling as he forced himself away. Addicted. That’s what he was. He was hung up on blood worse than a heroine addict wanted his fix. But it was more than that. It was the power he could exert and the manipulation of the victim. He fed on more than their blood. The fear, the raw panic in their eyes as he sliced away their skin, as they saw their blood exposed, it was sacred to him. He lived and breathed for it more than a sociopath. At least the vampiric side of him did anyways. Right then, in his lucid state, Oliver knew that something was wrong with him, that this nature of his had been fostered, that Helena never wanted him to be able to control himself. He stumbled to fall on his knees on the rooftop, his head between his hands just like the girls had been. Maybe he could end it. Neither of them were there to stop him this time. He could just crush his skull and wallow in it. But he knew better. That was no way to end it, he’d have to decapitate himself. Oliver’s hands went to his throat and then shifted away in a split second to his lap. He looked up at the black sky then, tilting his head back, his mouth open, the dried blood on his lips cracking with the effort. For a long while he was motionless, just staring, falling into the darkness of the night, wanting it to consume him, to take him away. And yet not. Why?

Scarlett.

That poor girl was still in their keep, the one who enjoyed being with them all for some reason. Or not. He had never understood why she had come to belong to their coven, nor even how she had survived for so long. It had been years since he had been on a binge. His earlier epiphany remained: he hadn’t slaughtered recklessly since she had been with them. A degree of restraint had always stopped him from wiping out a room full of people in the past decade. Was that of his own doing or was that her? Or was it this lucidity that seemed to linger more than it ever had before?

Swallowing past the contemplation, Oliver shifted, the silence of the streets wafting up to his ears. He was so thankful for it. Rising to stand, the nearly century old vampire assessed himself. The girls were present on him again, their remains and dead blood spattering his fresh clothes. At least he didn’t like the blood bath he had hours before. He knew they were all waiting, that Roxanne was likely back already or wherever she had gone after he’d left her. Perhaps she had known better to leave him alone and the moments of clarity were his to cherish. He didn’t know how long they would last. They never did.

With a running start Oliver launched himself onto the next rooftop with ease. Jumping from building to building until he hit the forested area that surrounded their present quarters was relieving. His thoughts went to his actions. He was a few miles from the house when the heavy scent of fresh blood struck him hard. As he walked back to the run down house he could feel the presence of a stranger before he walked through the door. A newborn. As he stepped inside he heard the giggles below. Helena had had some fun, and Krystof was back. As the two of them took to their playing he swept himself upstairs, using his speed to avoid the smell of humans below. He stood at the landing for a moment, looking into the living space where their beat up piano sat. Scarlett had been there when he left. Where she was now he didn’t know, likely keeping out of sight and mind given the mood of their coven leaders. He walked over to it, sweeping his hand over the worn finish, removing a coat of dust nearly half an inch thick. He was grateful that the thing had conveniently been there when they’d arrived.

He didn’t know why but he wanted to play. It had to have been the first time in five hundred years he was doing this. The sounds had always reminded him of his youngest sister. But it was suddenly soothing to him, so he pulled up the cover to the keys and ran his fingers over the smooth ivory keys before pressing a few. Oliver let the sound resonate through him before he began to play something he had heard on the radio recent, the modern reflective tones causing him to close his eyes, tilting his head to the left while he soaked it in, focusing on it over the screams of frustrated humans in the basement below.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Derek Fleitner Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Angiluzza Maniscalco Character Portrait: Eva Clarke Character Portrait: Alessa Dattolo Character Portrait: Adonis Charmides Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Lucan Norvel Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon Character Portrait: Annabelle Jefferson Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Isaac Warren Character Portrait: Jasper Roberts
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Angiluzza

Angiluzza had stopped breathing.

Not that it was a bad thing, but it freaked her out; like she had just died. Completely died. All she saw was darkness – nothingness. She whined and her body trembled as he held her tighter. She slowly found herself trying to grasp some sort of sanity or anything close to it. She blinked until she could see again, watching Eva run by almost as though it were in slow motion. And then Alessa off after her. Her head lolled a few times almost as though it were made of lead and she couldn't bear to hold it up on her own strength. She whined again as Derek mentioned that she needed blood. Where was she going to get it from? “I can't go out like this.” she whispered to him. She also did not plan on feeding from either Adonis or Eva – Adonis had disgusting blood and Eva...She would kill the girl and not entirely on accident, either. She looked around, catching sight of a dead Jasper – Poor Jasper. She wasn't particularly fond of him, or at least not all the time, like only twenty minutes ago. But that didn't mean she wanted the poor boy dead. Roughed up for his attitude, yeah. But not dead – He was pleasant company most days.

They had a love/hate companionship.

Her lips quivered in a pout and she returned to another bought of tears. Some Enforcer she was! But it was her family! She had taught Annabelle to read and write and fight with Nicholas. She had spent many a star-filled night sipping a glass of Jasper's blood on the roof while talking about the centuries past with Isaac. They were both beautiful souls and she wasn't ready for them to have gone already! She knew that it was possible that they would die defending themselves – Such was the life of living in a Coven. Their lives weren't a guarantee – Not by any means, was it. But she had lived so comfortably, so happy with her family that it was so hard to remember how dangerous it was to even walk outside of her home. Sure, she knew there were Nomads and Fallen Covens and Vampire Hunters to worry about, but it wasn't like they ran into them that often. It was easy for her to notice how amazing her life was and appreciate it. There had only three deaths prior to theirs in the whole time she had been with the Coven.

She couldn't imagine just shrugging off their deaths as 'just part of life'. She knew that it was, but so was grieving. Having spent so much time with the only made it worse when you finally lost them. She shivered as their still-open eyes stared back at her. “I'm sorry.” she whispered again, this time talking to them. She couldn't take back what had happened – But what could she have done differently to save them? Maybe acting faster. She overestimated herself; that's what it was. After tonight, after they moved, she would train again. This time, it wouldn't be like the past couple of centuries. No four hour sessions with Nicholas – No, she was going to isolate herself and her nights would be only training and pausing to eat. Until the crack of dawn. No parties, no reading, no candy.

That's all she could think of before snapping back into the present. He was right – She did need blood. She hesitated before thinking again of what he would possibly be thinking of – He knew that she would not feed from either of the remaining humans. She knew that he knew that. They both also knew that there was virtually no blood left in the destroyed refrigerator. That left...Him. She looked up at him as his wrist was placed near her lips. Her mind wandered back to that day when he had become her best friend, her father, her brother, her savior; her everything.

“Family...What do you mean family? Where are they? I don't suppose the rumor about sleeping in coffins during the day is true? Or that I must always carry with me dirt from my home? Do I bleed, still? Do other vampires? Can vampires drink each others' blood? Or is that cannibalism?” She felt like a fool for asking, but she felt she needed to know. Her eyes lit up as a thought entered her mind. “I can go to school...?” Nicholas had chuckled softly, taking a moment to answer all of her questions as soon as she had answered them. She talked really fast, seeming to take advantage of not needing to take a breath and she was extremely curious. She was burning with hunger, but had requested her simple questions be answered before given food; what a strange girl indeed. “Let's start from the beginning, shall we? First of all, what I mean by family, is coven. It's not unlike a family. I will return to the subject of specifics. Currently they're some way from here, but not too far. You will meet them soon enough. But no, we don't sleep in coffins. Honestly, a bed is much more comfortable, but we do sleep during the day, and the sun is hurtful. Not fatally so, but it stings an awful lot. It takes a little while to get used to.” He smiled at her, trying to recall what her next question had been, before suddenly going “ah, yes, we move around a lot, so I'd say it would be a little difficult for us to carry dirt around from every one of them.” He chuckled, “so no dirt. But you do still bleed, yes, red just like humans. We do, however, heal rapidly. And... we can drink each others' blood. It's not cannibalism. In fact, blood-sharing is considered an intimate thing between two vampires. Some do it during sex, because it heightens the senses, and intensifies the experience. You can sustain yourself on the blood of a fellow vampire, but it's not as good nor as nourishing as the blood of a human....”

She had never tasted his blood, nor the blood of any other vampire. She was glad that her face was stained cherry with blood because she could feel them urn red and grow just a tad bit warm as she blushed. She tried not to think about that centuries old conversation, though it wasn't exactly easy. “I...I can't. I'll choke down some of Adonis'...This is a bad idea...” She really was suffering from temporary insanity. How long had she craved sinking her fangs into him? Over five centuries. And now he offered it to her freely and she turned it down. She imagined this moment would have been a bit...more when it had come along. Not with them surrounded in the dead bodies of their companions, soaking in their blood with her own self in a hysteric fit. But she really didn't have a choice did she? O negative made her gag and put her in a foul mood. Once she was in her right mind, her in a foul mood was just as bad as her in a fit of insanity.

She had no choice in the matter.

Her fangs slid out with an audible click and she leaned her head forward just a bit, enough to sink them into his cold flesh. Her lips quivered as his blood touched upon her tongue and a shiver went down her spine as she practically sank into him. She was quick to pull his free arm, wrapping it around herself while she bit deeper into his wrist. She tried her best for this to be a good experience and it wasn't hard. Her entire body simply...relaxed. Every care she ever had simply washed away and for that time, it was just her. And him. As it had been for the first little while of her rebirth. His blood was much thicker and much sweeter than she imagined it to be – Not exactly O positive...but she wouldn't mind it some time again.

As soon as the blood trickled its way down her throat, it was as though a supernova went off in her head. She entered a state of euphoria, her eyelids fluttering as though she were about to have a seizure. She saw him standing in the middle of a meadow under the night sky...though why was he wearing a buckskin loincloth? She watched in silence, seemingly invisible to the scene as her own self seemed to glide across the long, green grass straight into his arms, her body draped in a short dress of white cotton. Uh...Were they about to have sex?! She thought she might faint – She watched as they held each other with the faintest of smiles, simply standing there like statues; Not that she'd mind standing in his arms for all of eternity. Hell, wasn't she already? Not completely, but it was close enough for her. It was entrancing to watch the two beautiful creatures interact with one another; she envied her vision-self as he ran his fingers through her hair and traced his fingertips along her scars. She looked so proud to bare them, not using makeup to cover them. It wasn't that Angel was uncomfortable in her battle scars...they just tended to be the main attraction of her body when they were out and it made her short when people stared. But her vision-self...she didn't care. Vision Nicky didn't care either. He marveled at her as though she were some priceless piece of artwork.

She tried to concentrate while watching, but someone was groaning. Dammit, who interrupting her vision? She growled in an irate manner before watching as Alessa and Adonis came out, dressed same as Nicholas and Angiluzza. The four of them laughed together, each pair holding their own. Jasper followed with his wife - Angel had seen pictures - And Annabelle soon after with Isaac. They were all smiling and happy, dressed in matching loincloths and cotton dresses. Everyone looked so beautiful and Angel couldn't imagine a better family portrait.

And then Eva came...Timid and shy, crossing the clearing in a green cotton dress. Angel's utopia was shattered as her vision-self slid out her fangs and hissed under her breath. “Mine.” Vision Eva was startled, stopping dead in her tracks, fear filling her eyes. Angel didn't care. She should be terrified! Nicholas was hers! He had always been hers even though he didn't know it yet! This pet wasn't going to ruin over eight hundred years of closeness! Not now and not ever would she. Angel moved to attack, but she was restrained by him and the others. She turned and looked into his face. His soft smile was replaced by a light frown, his head shaking as he pulled her away and motioned for her to go. Angel was rigid as he moved past her and onto Eva, everyone else bearing the same frowns and shaking heads as they went with him. He smiled, embracing the frail human. Angel watched as Eva smirked from over his shoulder, her lips forming one word: Mine.

Her thoughts were vivid right now and the only thing she could think about him and his blood and how sad and angry she was. How long had she been feeding? Surely not that long! Her eyes had been closed the whole time – She couldn't think with all that groaning and growling in her ear! Who the fuck?!

Her eyes flew open and she realized that it was her.

Her back was against his chest while she took delight in devouring his blood – She was practically making out with his wrist, though her jaw had tightened as her anger bubbled, she was biting down into him as though she were trying to eat him alive...or dead. As soon as she realized where the groaning was coming from, she didn't take even a moment to wonder whether Nicholas had enjoyed himself or not, nor did she take time to notice his current position other than what she immediately felt. She flitted out of his grasp, standing on her own as her mind became semi-unclouded. Enough for her to realize the situation once more. She choked down a sob and brought her hand over her mouth. “Annie...Isaac...Jasper.” She whispered softly before glancing over to Nicholas. “I'll clean this up...I'm sorry.” Her temporary moment on cloud nine was gone.

They were dead. Not happy and alive dressed matchingly in clothes that looked like they were all Tarzan and Jane couples.

She had never...dreamed or daydreamed anything like that! Had she said 'Mine' out loud? She probably had, considering that she was groaning and growling out loud. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed – Last thing she needed right now was for him to distance himself because she was acting stranger than usual. She cleared her throat and licked her lips before sliding her fangs back in. “And...Thank you. I'm sorry that I didn't leave you with any other choice.” She muttered before nodding towards the door. “You should probably go check on your...On Eva. Make sure she doesn't run. She'll listen – You're all she cares about. Would be a shame to have to put her down.” She had returned to her usual, blunt self. Though she didn't really mean it – That it would be a shame to put Eva down. It wouldn't be hard to pick up a new human; It never was. She was growing increasingly weary of the girl's presence and that would not do. But, Eva was not hers to dismiss in any way and for now, she would simply have to pray that the girl would stop being stupid and try to run for it or ask for death or she would simply avoid too much interaction with her for the girl's own safety. She moved towards him and leaned over, kissing the top of his head before flitting off to the kitchen in search of something to clean up the blood.




Adonis

Adonis was silent. His eyes were closed as he took a few moments to think...He hadn't seen anything nor did he bother to go downstairs and check what was happening. His first reaction had been to find his damn phone and call Alessa – The only number in his phone. Sure, he got other girls' numbers; But he never bothered to save them in his phone. He didn't want to go downstairs – Why would he try to get himself killed? He imagined that Alessa would grieve – Direly hoping that she would if anything happened to him. He didn't know for sure, but just in case she would, he didn't want to hurt himself and bring hurt to her heart. Selfish? His reasons, yes. But, had he gone downstairs, the Coven would have been assed out of another food source for home. Not that anyone used him much. Adonis often wondered why the hell he was even around if he was just an emergency food supply – Rare was it that there was need of him. Not that he was complaining.

He got up slowly, blinking a little before unlocking his door and releasing the steps that lead down to the rest of the house. He was jumpy as he made his way down the steps and then around a few corners before down the stairs to the first level of the home. His sight was assaulted with a vision of red. Blood was spattered all over the walls, heads were lying around away from their proper bodies, and Angel and Derek were sitting in the mess of it all, soaking in the blood. Did his eyes deceive him or was Angel feeding from their Protector? Nope – He was seeing right. And hearing right as well: The woman...well. She was in heaven. He took a step forward, though jumped back when she started growling, the word 'Mine' escaping her lips.

He held up his hands and shook his head. “Yo, chica. Don't want him. Keep 'im. I don't swing that way.” He was quick to dodge past them, his bare feet sliding in the blood and almost tripping him. He caught himself and continued on outside. He took a few deep breaths before sitting on the steps. Who were those people? And why did they attack his family? He suddenly felt a giant weight on his chest like he couldn't breathe. He bent over and the nasty taste of upchucked Ramen came flowing through his mouth, spattering on the stone steps. He did this a few times, his throat burning and his eyes as well. Though, his eyes were burning from the tears that were falling. He had been so mean to them and all they had done was give him a home and everything that went with it.

He recalled all the times he told Annabelle that she was nosy and stupid, the times he told Isaac that he was a drooling retard. He hadn't meant any of it...But. He hadn't had the chance to apologize or make it up to them...and...Fuck! They were dead. For good. They weren't coming back. He wasn't sobbing, but there were tears streaming down his face that he quickly wiped away before wiping his mouth of any remaining vomit. Which proved useless because he only vomited again. He had never seen so much blood in his life...even being part of a gang had not given him such experience around death.




Kristof and Dmitri

Kristof watched as Helena finally got the reaction out of Kelsey that she wanted; fear. Kelsey was terrified of the mad woman who was seeming to take delight in what looked more like a dungeon than a basement. She started to wonder what she got herself into...Until her face was pushed into Kaleigh's stomach and subsequently her blood. She was like a dehydrated dog lapping up the last few drops of a puddle – Though, in this case, there was an entire human for her to drink. Kristof was impressed – He wasn't even allowed to drink from Kaleigh. Surely he was right in his previous assessment; His beloved's need to break Dmitri was now even greater than her need to keep Kaleigh alive. It seemed as though he would soon have to hunt and find her another pet. And it would be him this time – He didn't like other people giving Helena humans as gifts. It was his job to provide for her needs and protect her. Honestly, even as a Protector, he didn't really care too much about protecting the others as he did Helena.

He moved towards Dmitri with a smirk as he was ordered, grasping the man's head with a strong hold – He was trying not to crush his head like a sparrow's egg while also trying not to snap his neck. It was a little difficult for him to contain his strength when he was so riled up; And Helena knew it. He could Dmitri grunting under the sheer force that Kristof was applying as he was forced to watch his love be skinned alive and lapped up like she was a snack...But then again; that's exactly what she was to them. Nothing more than a snack and he had been a fool to forget it. He could feel his eyes well up with tears. Kristof could only smile as Helena's newest progeny lapped up blood like she would never get a drop again.

Kristof was a puzzling man; on one hand, he wasn't very abusive when it came to women. He tried to be as merciful as possibly, limiting their pain by making their death a quick one. But on the other hand, he could not help but to take pleasure in watching Helena torture young women. She often told him that he needn't be such a gentleman or even to try with them, but his father's ways stuck with him. Still, he watched while holding Dmitri still as Kaleigh was skinned, his tongue running over his lips, watching the sweet blood trickle everywhere. Helena's naked body looming over Kaleigh's while a third lapped up everything – Paradise.

Dmitri tried to look away, but Kristof yanked his head back into position, using his fingertips to force his eyelids to stay open; There was no way out of it. Kristof smirked as Dmitri's salty tears ran down his face, placing his head next to the blonde's. “Its a beautiful sight, no? This is true nature. Cold. Unforgiving. Its survival of the fittest – She never stood a chance.” He practically cooed to him before finding himself being headbutted from the side – Dmitri didn't have a lot of space to move his head, but Kristof was close enough to get just a little in. Kristof responded only with a laugh – Dmitri would pay for that later.

Kelsey, meanwhile, was having the time of her life as she tried as hard as possible to make sure no drop was wasted, her tongue running along every inch of exposed flesh, her pale face red and smeared with blood. She ignored Kaleigh's cries; Hey, it wasn't her problem. She felt better than Kaleigh – They could have killed her like they did her buddies. Or they could have made her a snackpack like they did with Kaleigh. But, no. She was chosen to be one of them! An elite being! Sure, she was just their sex toy. But she was still one of them. Still better than being just a snack. But even as she licked on...She paused to think. Was this normal? That she so willingly accepted death and was so eager to lick up the blood of a girl being killed right before her? Part of her wanted to stop and run away and kill herself. But the blood...It was calling her name. She didn't really have much humanity to begin with.




Lucan

The Irishman was still pacing around the home, seemingly ignorant to everything around him. He disregarded the pained screams coming from the basement because it really wasn't anything new to him. His mind was on Roxanne - Where was she? He hadn't seen her all night and usually, she was banging on his bedroom door at this time of night. He really couldn't help tbut to worry - She was so young. At least compared to him, she was. Even if only by half his age. He shook his head and glanced around until he saw Scarlett cleaning up Helena and Kristof's mess. Putting on his most charming smile, he sauntered over and leaned against the most stable wall that he could find.

“Ah, poor thing. Cleaning up all by your lonesome. Don't suppose that you'd like a bit of help...” He eyed the hole in a nearby wall that could only have come from a fist and he immediately assumed it to be of Kristof's. Weird for that man. He wasn't in a particularly foul mood as far as Lucan could tell and the man didn't seem to harbor any special dislike for Scarlett. Maybe Kristof's mind was going as well. Or maybe it was just something erratic for no reason. Lucan didn't dwell too much on it because it wasn't really his business.

“Perhaps after we've finished up a bit of cleaning we could go an' have a wee bit of fun?” It really wasn't that much of a question because he knew she wasn't going to say no. He and Scar had quite a few good times and she was quite delectable. Her blood type wasn't really his favorite, but she was still alright. Maybe it was because he frequently fed from her that made her blood so delicious to him? But having the same thing nearly all the time would make one sick of it eventually, right? Not really for him. He would be content to have a pet of his own to drink from whenever he pleased...Or maybe two or three. A blonde, a brunette, a red head, a Brazilian, an Aussie, a British. Ah! The beautiful women he only dreamed that would surround him and surrender themselves to him.

He had found himself lost in thought, damn near drooling on himself as he daydreamed. And then he realized that Scar was still there. “My apologies, lovely. Anywho – About those offers? They're one time only, so choose wisely.” He did his best to waggle his eyebrows at her, though he was never really good at it, he understood that his attempts were found to be quite...cute. That's what Rox would say. He wasn't fond of being identified as cute or adorable, but with his current body state, he would take whatever would get him in a woman's pants. Such was the life of a sexual deviant.