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Roxanne Tataeu

"I'm only a bitch because you can't handle the truth."

0 · 553 views · located in Washington, USA

a character in “Blood which Binds”, as played by Imagine That!


Fallen Procurer


Name: Roxanne Alyce Tataeu

Nickname: Rox, is what she prefers. But she's always called Roxie, which makes her sound about five years old.

Age: 449 years old (Frozen at 20)

Birthday: She was born on the Fourth of May, 1563.

Bloodtype: She like B+, really, but her all time favourite is the rarest blood type of all, AB-. That's really the same for most vampires though. She don't mind any blood type though, O is perfectly fine.

Place of Origin: She was born in Toulouse, France.

♦ Expensive alcohol ♦ being told she's beautiful ♦ being taken out for meals, and treated ♦ the occasional piece of romance ♦ chocolate chip cookies ♦ sex, and lots of it ♦ the feeling of blood trickling down her throat ♦ when no-one is looking, loosing herself in a book ♦ orange juice ♦ her leather jacket.

♦ Drinking the blood of someone on drugs ♦ small children who cry twenty-four seven ♦ being interrupted in anything ♦ the taste of grapes ♦ being forced into wearing posh dresses ♦ being told what to do ♦ anything sci-fi ♦ confusing word puzzles ♦ having pictures taken of her ♦ vampires movies that depict sparkling pricks.

Rox is terrified of only two things; one is being outcasted, abandoned by her coven to live alone in a world where she would have no purpose. And the second is that of fire. Fire is something the girl hates, more than most hunters, or tainted blood, or death threats. Fire is horrible.

"My secret? I... I feel something more than I should, for Luke. I hate myself for that. I feel myself going soft when I'm around him, which is a contrast to who I am, to who I told myself I was going to be after the torture of a relationship that was James. I don't want to let myself get that emotionally involved with anyone ever again, but I just can't help that pull that I'm feeling towards him. We have sex a lot, my way of trying to get him out of my head, to put distance between us. But it's not fucking working."

Roxanne is one of the nastiest people that you could come across in life. She has no qualms telling you exactly what she thinks, and doesn't matter if it hurts, or upsets anyone. Her truthfulness and bluntness are her main faults, but she sees them as good qualities. If people don't know the truth, then they live life as a lie, she believes. She doesn't see it as being mean, as most of the people around her do, but she knows that sometimes she pushes it too far, and heads into the territory of being a bitch. But, she doesn't give a crap. Being mean is the way that she has dragged herself through life, and kept herself going, and that won't change unless it means her own death.

Rox is also extremely free spirited; she hates the idea of being caged up and trapped in one particular place, or by one particular person any more, and she hates being told what to do. She listens to Helena, purely because she was the woman who sired her, but she's always sarcastic and catty whenever she is given orders. She also has a habit of sleeping with people, just before killing them. She prefers the blood of men over the blood of females, purely because she gets to have the fun of using their body for her own enjoyment, before then getting her food. She doesn't like creating emotional bonds with people, and the physical bond of sex is much simpler to her. Emotions confuse her.

She sees things at face value; judging people by the way that they look. Appearance is a main focal point of the girl, and she won't drink from, or have sex with someone that she isn't attracted to. She will also never go out without looking her upmost best. Since she was turned into a shriveling mess by her fiancé, she decided to go back to looking her best when she was turned. Red lipstick will also cover her lips, and eyeliner helping her beautiful eyes stand out. She is extremely vain, and her wardrobe is mainly filled with tight clothing, short skirts and high boots, her favourite piece of clothing however being her leather jacket.

Roxanne Tataeu was born to Elizabetha and Gaspard Tataeu, in 1563, a pretty boring year when it comes to history. Nothing good happened, nothing interesting, and in France, everything was especially dull. Growing up in a rich French family, Rox was their only child, meaning in the most sense, that she was extremely spoiled. She was surrounded by toys, and had the most beautiful and expensive dresses made especially for her. Her mother treated her like a china doll; make-up and curled hair was a major part of the girl's life from an extremely young age. She was paraded around as a beautiful piece of the family's furniture, not being seen as a person by anyone, it seemed to her. No-one saw that she was a person underneath her beauty; she had feelings, and a voice. But, they were never seen. All that was shown, up until the age that she was sixteen years old, was that she was a little girl that her parents were proud to show off as one of the most beautiful girls in the town.

At the age of sixteen, everything however changed for Rox. She grew to an age of adulthood in her parents eyes, and she was being told that marriage was soon to be on the cards for her. This changed her view on life; Love was the only thing that she had ever wanted from her parents, and now she was going to have a husband of her own to love her for the rest of her life? How perfect! A man to be with forever. Someone who wouldn't treat her like a trophy, and who would give her countless children to love and care for. And soon, her parents found her a suitor, someone they thought would be perfect for their little gem. And that person was James L'eno, an incredibly handsome male from an aristocratic family, five years her senior. But, he was perfect. Every girl wanted to become his wife, and he had chosen her, little Roxanne Tataeu. Everything was perfect now.

Roxanne was soon moved into a large house that she shared with James, and they lived together, happy for about half of a year. They didn't want any money from their parents, starting out on their own with their own money, or James' work money, to be exact. So, with a cheap, small house, and Rox staying at home to do the cleaning and the washing, and all of the household chores, they started their life together. They went out to garden parties, smiled, held hands and spent time together, sitting in their porch with a glass of homemade lemonade. But soon, things started to happen. Things that Roxanne didn't understand. James started to get angry at her, shouting at the little things that she got wrong, like cooking the dinner at a wrong time, or not pressing his shirt in the correct way. Every little thing that she seemed to be doing was wrong, and he hated it. It seemed as if he hated her. So, at the age of eighteen, Roxanne finally decided to ask him what was wrong. Why he was constantly being mean to her and why he was hurting her emotions so much? And that was when he hit her. Punched her in the cheek, hard, leaving a bright red mark. He went out straight after that, and Rox just lay in their bed crying her eyes out. When James came home that night, about four in the morning, he was stinking drunk, and still incredibly angry.

That night, he raped her.

The rape continued for another two years, until Rox was twenty years old. She turned from being a pretty, quiet girl with a smile constantly on her face to a woman who hid her face, ignored all of the make-up that she had been trained to put on, a bitter tone in her voice when ever anyone asked her what was going on, and why she had changed. She lost touch with her parents, not wanting them to see her the way she was, and they didn't seem too bothered about her leaving them alone. They seemed to be disappointed with her change, and didn't want anything to do with her any more. Rox was disappointed in herself as well, and started going out at night after her fiancé raped her, going out to the local tavern, and drowning her sorrows in cheap alcohol, much like James. It was there that she shouted at a woman in her drunken state, a beautiful red-head woman who seemed to be rather amused at being spoken to like that, something which really irritated Roxanne, and made her storm out of the bar in a rage.

When leaving the tavern that night, the red-headed woman followed her. Rox stumbled into an alleyway to confront the woman, but she was soon trapped in between what felt like arms of steel. A wrist was then being thrust into her mouth, and blood trickled into her stomach, the most disgusting thing that she had ever experienced. Then, two hands were grasping at the side of her head, and then blackness took over. When Rox awoke, there Helena was standing in front of her, and she explained everything that had happened. She obviously didn't believe it at first and she rushed off home, returning back to the man who had tortured her for years. When she saw him, laying there in the bed, an overwhelming desire came over her. She slowly walked over to his side of the bed, and her eyes were drawn to the pulsating vein in his neck. She could see it, the beat of his pulse, hear his heart beat. And then, her teeth were sinking into his neck.

The night Rox killed James was the best of her life; no night had ever felt so good. She was free of his clutches, and had a new sense of joy surrounding her life. She soon joined Helena's coven, and became the procurer of their little family. She seduced a handsome guy in France a few years after becoming a vampire and introduced him into their coven. Luke was a part of their coven's natural enemies, the Forebearer's, and she sometimes feels a little bad when she looks at him, and sees that he's uncomfortable there. Just because she liked the way that he looked, she ruined his chances of going back to the way that he once was. He's one of the only people she's actually nice too, most of the time.

Anything Else:
Roxanne has a talent for art; sketching and drawing. She has many sketches hidden in a little book underneath her bed. Drawings that she does when she thinks that no-one is looking. She prefers drawing things that are real, things that she can see. Pictures of her coven members, Luke, Helena and flowers that she picks and puts in a vase in her room are in there. Her favourite human food is apples, especially red ones, and they have been since before she was turned. Finally, she gets extremely irritated if someone comes into her room without being invited, and if someone touches her lipstick, they're going to die.

So begins...

Roxanne Tataeu's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon Character Portrait: Lucan Norvel
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#, as written by Vix

The brunette, the redhead, or the blonde? It was hard to pick because they all looked so beautiful and smelled so delicious. He could be a glutton and take them all home. His friends would love that he brought home snacks. He would save the very best for Helena. But which would she prefer more? The one that scares easy? The brave one that would fight back? Or the one that tasted the best? Maybe she'd play a game. Have him let them take off into the woods so they could all play cat and mouse. Helena loved to play cat and mouse.

He finally decided that he might try to woo them all. And why not? It would be far too easy considering how American women would swoon at small things. Such as the slightest hint of a foreign accent. British, Irish, Scottish, and heavy Hispanic seemed to be the newest trends. He had witnessed swarms of women simply fall over themselves trying to be the one on the arm of The Foreign Man. It was absolutely pathetic and rather shallow. But then again, he was rather used to shallow considering the company he had been keeping for the past couple of centuries or so.

He watched as they sat in their little group, whispering among each other, placing bets on who could get them back home and into their bed first. How sad that whores grouped together as such and turned such an act of intimacy into sport and game. Show some pride! he thought to himself. Kristof wasn't runner-up for the Nicest Guy in the World Award but he did have some standards. He never did have a taste for harlots – Not even in his before-death life. He was always a one-woman man. Well. Now he was Helena's. Though she didn't know just how much.

Running fingers through his hair, he flashed a grin to the women. He wanted to vomit in his mouth at the obscene gestures being made by the redhead. What had happened to the human race? Resisting shaking his head, he moved away from the bar and headed for the women. Their whispers died to a hush as he drew closer. They instead resorted to fawning over his appearance. He was wearing a white tank top and a pair of Sean Jean denims with black DC shoes. He was feeling pretty bored and lazy when he woke up, but the pride that rippled through his body accompanied by the dark stubble that he allowed upon his face.

He finally came to a stop and perched upon their table. He didn't touch any of them and he wasn't going to. If it had not already been made obvious, Kristof wasn't a fan of humans. They were weak, vain, and trashy. They were food and absolutely nothing else. Sometimes they were toys. But that's exactly it. They were objects not worth the affection or praises of the beings higher than them. He laughed at the humans that thought themselves worthy to share a bed with creatures of the night and wanted to vomit when said creatures actually did share a bed with them.

“So, big boy. What'cha sippin' on?” The brunette was an African American woman who's hair framed her face in thick curls and didn't extend past her shoulders. Kristof gave a shrug and a smile. “You tell me. You girls have been staring at me rather hard for quite some time.” His accent was heavily Italian, forcing the girls to choke down squeals, though he was drowning in the scent of their...moisture. He growled under his breath, though it was audible enough for them to hear. Instead of being frightened or even a bit weirded out, they simply moved closer, batting fake thick lashes in an attempt to get ahead in their 'race'.

“Well. A friend of mine makes a killer 4 Horsemen. Jack, Johnnie, Jose, and Jim mixed together. You ever had one?” He started out slow with idle conversation. The redhead was closest to him and had rested her hand on his knee. “Oh wow. That sounds really strong. I've never had one.” She smiled. Jersey accent. She had an irritating tan that looked almost orange, her lipstick was too red, and her hair was so big he had no doubt that it could house at least three families of birds and rent out a single room for a bachelor. But he winked at her despite it all. “It is. If you guys are down for a party...” He didn't have to finish because they were already grabbing their clutches and waiting for him to lead the way.

While a challenge thrilled him, being lazy and taking the easy snacks provided him with more idle time to spend trying to please Helena. Thinking of how submissive the woman made him without even trying made him sick. But he couldn't help it and he really wasn't sure whether or not he minded. He drove his old Chevy pickup truck quickly, contemplating the thought. There wasn't enough room for all of the girls in the front of his truck, so they had fought over who would sit in his lap. In the end, the blonde beat the others in a game of rock, paper, scissors.

“Pathetic.” He had muttered to himself.

“What was that?” The blonde glanced at him with a light smile. She was a Washington native. That much he had picked up from her nonstop yammering on and on about her life story. Abusive parents, always dated losers, hoped to settle down and marry soon. All before she turned twenty-four. He didn't see what the rush was these days when it came to settling down. What happened to taking it slow? Maybe taking it slow was an easier feat for him because he had forever.

“We're here.” He smiled, nodding to the house that they were coming up on. No matter where they went, they always lived away from town and near the forest. It was easier for them to carry out their daily activities this way, plus nobody could hear their helpless victims screaming for at least five miles. Which was always great for their Plus it kept them out of the eyes of nosy neighbors. They liked to bring their snacks home sometimes so they could share and it was never a good thing when neighbors decided to point out that they last saw the victim with them. Investigations had gotten a lot more thorough over time. He remembered when you could kill someone and if the killer wasn't found within three days, the law said fuck it.

He and the girls scrambled out of the car and up to the house where he let them in and locked the door behind him. “I thought you said there was going to be a party. Are we early or something?” The brunette turned around and popped up her left hip, doing that weird head bob that seemed to be popular. Back in the nineties.

“Oh no. We're just in time. In fact – You're all the guests of honor.” He smirked and cracked his knuckles. “Honey, I'm home.” He didn't bother to call out, knowing Helena would have already smelt and heard him coming at least five minutes ago. He had been gone for two days, letting out some vampire that she had a quarrel with and locked up some time ago in a cave. She had starved him for a while. She didn't give him the specifics because he didn't need them. All he knew was that after they finished hunting down and tearing these girls apart, he was going to play his own hunting game with Helena. He smirked to himself, shivering at the thought of hearing her scream for him again. Feeling her raking her nails down his back and tearing into his flesh.

Another shiver ran down his spine as he inhaled deeply, Helena's scent intoxicating him in a way that no human's blood ever could. His body stirred some as he opened up his eyes. The girls were trying to escape. Oh – So they were playing inside the house? Were they hoping that it'd play out like in the horror movies? They'd sneak around the house and hide in closets with a knife and then barely escape with their lives after some weird accident kills the killer? Oh, Helena was going to love this. Helena loved when they fought back. Whatever got her more riled up, the better. He watched as they ran towards the kitchen. He just stood there. He listened. They fumbled around looking for knives. One of them cut herself – Ooh! O positive. Helena's favorite. His fangs slid out as a menacing grin etched itself across his lips.


There she was, sitting across the bar in the heavily crowded club. A woman of great beauty; she had hair as dark as a raven's wings that cascaded down her body in thick curls and framed the delicate features of her face. Her skin was ivory like the porcelain mini-statues he kept on a shelf in his room. And her body! Good lord, her body! She had curves in all the right places. She looked over at him with bright green eyes and offered a shy smile. The Irishman grinned back and adjusted the lapels on his new Gucci suit before moving away the area of the bar that he had taken occupancy of only a few hours ago.

“Can 'ah buy you a drink, miss?” Lucan flashed her a winning smile and smirked inwardly as she openly swooned at his accent. American women...American humans were so easy to captivate. So long as you possessed a foreign accent, they would rob a bank at the snap of one's fingers. It was highly amusing to the vampire. "I'll take a Jack and Coke. As long as you're buying." She tried her best to purr out a faux hispanic accent but she failed miserably. He didn't show his absolute disgust and instead contorted his face as though she had just spoken the most fascinating thing he had ever heard in his life.

The woman was so easy to manipulate that it almost made him sad. Where was the challenge? But his boredom did not once show on his face as he continued to woo her at the bar before escorting her to the dance floor where he went a few rounds with her. Women these days had absolutely no sense of class. They thought they'd find husband material by wearing tight-fitting clothes that were a size and a half too small and then grinding their junk on them. And they wondered why so many of them were raped outside of bars. That was like teasing a lion and then wondering why the lion tore off your arm.

The woman came alone to the crowded club, having just got out of a fight with her roommates. She was just looking to have some fun and find someone special. She had a good feeling about tonight.

Why wouldn't she be able to find Mister Right in a club? Her sister got married that way. But her sister was also abused daily. But that could never happen to her, oh no! And Lucan was such a gentleman and so sexy. Nothing could go wrong with him, she thought as she danced with him, feeling safe wrapped in his arms as he whispered romantic sweet nothings into her ear.

By seven-thirty, he was on his way to a hotel room with her. She offered to take him back to her place, but that meant neighbors. And roommates. People who would see his face. When she turned up missing, they would all look at him. He hated investigations. People of this century were so thorough. No. Instead, he offered her a motel room where she wouldn't need to worry about her roommates knocking on the door, asking them to be quiet. For he assured her that he would have her screaming. That it would hurt so good that she'd be begging him to stop. They had both grinned about it, though he had smiled for much darker reasons.

“It isn't the nicest place that I've been taken to. But you're well worth it. You're so charming. So sexy.” She giggled in an annoying way. pulling him by the tie into the motel room when they had arrived. He hated that. When a woman was attractive but then opened up her mouth and everything about her was annoying and fake. He also hated when people tugged on his clothes. He paid far too much for his clothes for the threads to be ruined by easy whores tugging on them in an attempt to be sexy. Lucan simply grinned and shut the door behind him.

The woman, who's name he had learned was Shaunee. was attempting a sexy dance while removing her clothes. He sat on the edge of the small, single bed and watched. “Dance slow. Like I'm the last man you'll ever please.” She paused with wide eyes, interpreting it as “If tonight is completely perfect, then I'm your new husband.” Though his meaning was far darker than she could imagine. He found the way she wound her body, dipping low and grinding her derriere on the floor rather...disgusting. He couldn't be any less aroused if he was watching a fat midget make love to a donkey. In fact, he thought that he may have found that more arousing.

Maybe that was being a little over dramatic, but the point was made.

The woman was atrocious. As she began to strip, he finally found something about her worth getting aroused for. Her body was perfection. And his great eye-sight enabled him to see that it was all natural. He loved natural bodies far more than those fake ones women got nowadays. Going to doctors to have fat sucked out of them and then put back in for curves. Having silicone shoved into their breasts. Ugh - Laziness is what it was. He loved a woman that kept up with herself through natural means. Dieting, exercise, and those such things. It seemed that this woman kept a rather rigorous work out. “I'm a personal trainer.” She smirked, as though reading his mind. She had stripped down to thong and heels, just about to take off her heels. “No. Leave the heels.” He murmured, unbuttoning his jacket and shirt, sliding them off of his body. She grinned and continued to dance, letting him undress. It didn't take him long to get nude.

Lucan wasn't a very buff man. He didn't have bulging biceps or a six-pack. Hell, he didn't even have a four-pack. He looked as though he hadn't seen a decent meal in three months, really. He was a sickly man before he was turned and his body was frozen to be forever so and she was not pleased. “Uh, no hunny. I don't think so.” Her face contorted some and she dropped her arms, standing up straight. “Look, honey. You packin' and everything.” She gestured to his hardened member. “But you really ain't gettin' with me lookin' like that.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and bent over to gather up her clothes, intending to leave.

Lucan sighed and came up behind her. using his strength to hold her gently, brushing his lips against her neck as he whispered, manipulating her. “Give me a chance to provide you with a nigh' you'll nae forget soon. My body is this way from cancer. I want to enjoy my last days with a beautiful woman.” The woman melted into his accent again and with such great length pressing against her, she couldn't resist. “You're pretty strong for such a scrawny man.” She mumbled as he turned her around. He smirked and soon had her in his arms mounted on the wall.

He always made sure that his meal enjoyed their last few minutes of life. He loved the scent a woman exuded when in heat and the way her heart would race with each passing moment. Nothing could beat that rush. But what was even better was experiencing it all and drink from them at the same time. Draining them of their sweet life force. Plus, he preferred screams of ecstasy over screams of pain.

His fangs slid out in that way that they did, slowly sinking into her, leaving various marks along her arms, chest, and neck before settling just over her heart. She was crying out in ecstasy as he released a Toxin into her that would send into a frenzy of pleasure as he drained her to death. “You're seriously into some kinky shit!” She gasped out, clawing at his back in response.

He himself had to muffle a groan as her sweet life blood began to flow into his mouth. It was warm and oh-so-sweet! She soon began to realize that she was growing weak and it wasn't from being tired. It wasn't from the sex. She realized what was happening and tried to struggle but the pleasure was too much. She begged for more. She begged him to stop. And then she begged for more again. She didn't know what to do.

But Lucan did. He kept feeding. On and on and on he went. He didn't stop until her body no longer moved and her heart no longer beat. He sighed, pleased with his meal. Then he frowned. There was a funky aftertaste that he was none too pleased with: Steroids. He threw her body away from his and proceeded to clean up. He showered and got dressed in no time. There wasn't even a single spot of blood on the floor. He had lapped it all up. He sighed and hoisted her body over his shoulder.

The ride back to the house was long and irritating. He had stopped to dispose of the body by feeding it to the wolves deep in the forest. Since they had been in Washington, he had been feeding them the bodies of all of his victims. He had even come to consider them to be pets. They'd come around the house sometimes. He had a couple of pups in his room, even. But he always kept the head, the shoes, the clothes, and the accessories. One thing that was easily noticed about his victims was that they wore designer clothes, new jewelry, and were all the same size as Roxanne.

He pulled up to the house, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Helena was home...Oliver. Scarlet. Dmitri. Kaleigh. Kristof was finally home. But no Roxanne. He began to frown until three other scents wafted under his nose. Three women. No doubt Kristof had brought Helena some snacks. Or maybe they were all going to play cat and mouse. Shrugging, he got out of his cherry red 2012 Chevy Impala and ran straight to the house.

He knew the front door would be locked, so he instead scaled a nearby tree that extended up to his bedroom window. Inside his bedroom was pretty classy. Everything was designer from the sheets on his bed to the clothes hanging on racks. His room was actually pretty huge – Second only to Helena's. Only to accommodate all of his shoes and outfits and paintings and other little collectables.

He was greeted by cute little barks and two wolf pups jumping on his legs. “Heya loves. Don't worry, dinner's comin'.” He smiled and crouched down, scratching behind their ears as the wagged their tails happily to the familiar Irish accent.


Dmitri refused to so much as look at Helena simply because he did not care to grace her with his gaze. He didn't look at Kaleigh out of respect. When Helena touched him, he wanted to haul off and slap her. But he simply tensed his body. Her cheek pressed against his was almost too much to bear, but he stood...or sat his ground. He had been put through a lot of things by every vampire in the house. From having his limbs slowly broken to slowly bleeding out from several cuts. He had even been forced to play in their cat and mouse games. He didn't mind much after he thought about it – With him as their punching bag, Kaleigh and Scarlet were generally safe.

He didn't really like Scarlet. He thought that she was a deranged idiot. But chivalry was one of his better qualities. Even if it was incognito. He mostly put up with the abuse for Kaleigh, though. There were times before when he would see Helena in a bad mood and headed for Kaleigh that he would distract her by acting out. Maybe that's what this was all about. Maybe she knew. Great – That's all he needed; her to find a weakness. But he was still hopeful that Kaleigh would be able to convince Helena to keep him for her. Did she care for him enough to try that?

He was torn from his thoughts by Helena's voice. Her threat made him literally turn stark white. He was having trouble believing what he was hearing, thinking that maybe he had heard wrong. But here he was being forced and bound by chains to look upon Kaleigh. He wanted to struggle, but he couldn't. He could never do anything knowing that it would hurt Kaleigh. He did all that he could to protect her. And Helena knew it now. He watched unwillingly as Helena moved to Kaleigh and stripped her down fully. He wanted to close his eyes, but he knew he couldn't.

His eyes locked onto Kaleigh's, pleading for her forgiveness. He never meant for this to happen and he could only blame himself. He should have kept his head down. But he couldn't! He couldn't help but to fall for the beautiful redhead. She was just so sweet and kind. It broke him down to see her in any sort of pain. Right now he only wished he could break from the chains that bound him and sweep her up into his arms. He wanted to brush away the tears and tell her that it was all going to be okay. That they'd escape one day. But he couldn't. He could only watch and feel so helpless that it was almost pathetic.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Annabelle Jefferson Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon Character Portrait: Adonis Charmides Character Portrait: Alessa Dattolo Character Portrait: Lucan Norvel
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#, as written by Vix

Lucan had arrived and took his window into the home. He smelled like he had just finished a meal. But he could be a bit of a glutton sometimes. No doubt he'd share his meal with the mouthy Frenchie when she came around. But neither of those two were of Kristof's concern. He glanced over as Scarlet came downstairs only to have a knife hurled at her. A smirk crossed his face as she dodged it. Though he thought it would have been funner if she would have gotten hit. But then poor Oliver would have been upset. Again – He didn't care.

He didn't have to wait long for the reaction he wanted, for he soon found Helena's arms wrapped around him and his body pinned against the wall. His smirk turned into a smile as his own powerful arms wrapped around her slender body and he buried his face in her hair. He inhaled just as she did, taking in her scent. Helena's scent was far more intoxicating than any blood ever could be. While blood aroused his hunger, her scent aroused...him. He let his fingers press into her sides as he held her close, brushing his fangs against her neck.

“I assume that this means you missed me.” His trademark smirk returned as he pressed his forehead against hers. He hated to have been away from her, even if it was only for two days. It was two days too long. He moved his left hand over her body, slowly tracing up each curve, cherishing each one before he cupped her face. “I thought that you'd like to go out for dinner. But then I thought better and decided to bring home some takeout.” He dipped his head down to the much shorter woman's, capturing her lips in a ravenous kiss. He loved that privilege. Of touching her. Whenever he wanted. Wherever he wanted. That was something that was allowed for him and only him. Helena was his. And...well he was hers. Even though he'd never tell her so.

He nicked her bottom lip with a single fang, gently sucking the blood that rose up from the tender pink flesh. He was both enjoying his little welcome home committee while also giving the girls a little head start on arming themselves and hiding. He was hoping that they'd get outside – It was a lot more fun chasing them through the woods. But they were so slow that the games didn't last very long. That's why he preferred his games to be with Helena. The rewards were so much sweeter. Both metaphorically and literally. He lifted his head some as he heard the backdoor open. They were escaping, making him smile. “You know. We could get a round in while they start running...” He grabbed her by the thighs and hoisted her up around his waist. The wall damn near cracked with the force he put into it when he spun around and slammed her against it.

“But. I so love to make you wait.” He snickered, putting his forehead against hers again. His nose went to the air for a moment as he finally registered the scent of blood. And a lot of it. It wasn't from any of the girls he had brought home... “Oliver's been an idiot again, hasn't he?” He growled, tightening his grip on Helena. He had respect for Oliver's ability to fight, but he didn't like the way the man went apeshit while feeding. He left a trail. And Kristof doesn't like trails. Especially those leading back to himself or Helena.


“Kaleigh...” He forced the tears threatening to fall to stay back – He couldn't let Kaleigh see him cry. He watched in utter horror as Helena restrained Kaleigh and began to carve into her skin. He struggled against the chains, wanting nothing more than to beat the living shit out of Helena. Even if it killed him. “Stop...Stop it!” His voice was hoarse as he leaned forward, the chains pressing into him. Helena seemed off in her own little world now, enjoying her la-la land. But it was over soon as she dashed off upstairs.

Dmitri slumped as much as his body would allow, grinding his teeth together. He sat in silence for a few minutes before slowly parting dry lips. “I...I'm sorry, Kal...” His voice was cracked and the pitch hinted that he might actually be crying. He was. Small rivulets trickled down his face, dripping from his chin. “This is my fault. I never meant for this to happen to you...God. Please forgive me.” He had diverted his eyes elsewhere, but he found them drifting back to her. He refused to look at her body, keeping them locked onto her face.

“If she kills me. Promise me that you won't do anything stupid.” His voice had grown serious, though still a bit cracked. “Just promise me” He kept his composure as best as he could. He was mentally bracing himself for Helena to come back with Kristof. He knew that the Sicilian was back. That was pretty much the only thing that could get Helena to stop her games. Even if only for a little while.


Adonis was busy brooding upstairs. He had the guitar that Alessa had bought him when he first arrived, playing absolute nonsense. He wasn't even sure if it was a melody. His fingers weren't dancing across the strings, they were just...strumming. He didn't want to talk to anyone and he didn't want to see anyone. He had turned off all the lights in his room and shut the curtain over the small, circular window. He wanted to be alone in the dark to brood. Immature as it may be, that's what he wanted.

“Eu sou tão idiota de merda. Claro Alessa não queria me beijar. Ela é uma vampira. Eu sou um ser humano. Ela não vai querer alguém que acabou de morrer em mais 80 anos. Ela não quer alguém que vai olhar como um homem velho em mais dez ou vinte anos. Não significa que não pode ainda tentar.” He was muttering to himself in Portuguese, glaring in the dark at the floor. He loved Alessa. Not the idea of her. Not that she was a vampire. Not that she was gorgeous. He loved her. He hated that he couldn't know as much about her as he wanted to, but he still loved her.

As much as he thought it to be a secret, he wasn't exactly familiar with the vampires' ability to pretty much smell emotion and hear every change in the human body. He didn't know that every time Alessa so much as smiled in his direction his heart would literally skip three beats. He didn't know that when she accidentally brushed against him, he held his breath and reeked of want and need. He didn't know that every night they could hear his whispered prayers that Alessa would one day love him.

No. He didn't know.

He was drawn from his brooding by the knocking and voice of Annabelle. He frowned. Not because he didn't like Annabelle, but because he wanted to be alone. But what would a little company hurt? It wasn't like he could say no. She'd probably kick down the door if he did. Sighing, he set down his guitar on his bed as carefully as possible and eased over to the door. He pulled it open just enough for him to peek out with one eye. “O que você quer?”


Lucan had already removed his shirt and was searching through his closet, aided only by the dim light of the moon shining through the branches and a candle lit on his nightstand. He settled for a plain t-shirt, knowing that he might just go ahead and play the game with the others. He didn't want to bloody up any of his outfits. He had just pulled it over his head when Scarlet had slipped in. She was promptly greeted by Pierre and Adelaide, as Roxanne named the two wolf pups, growling and snapping at her feet; Lucan found it funny that they didn't like females besides Roxanne.

“If we keep you alive long enough for you to see them hit their teenage years, I won't stop them from tearing you apart when you let yourself into my private quarters.” He moved towards the door, blocking her from entering any further. “Pierre, Adelaide. Va te coucher et attendre pour la nourriture.” Roxanne had taught him French years ago and that was the language he spoke when speaking to both her and his pups. He watched as they whined with tails between their hind legs, scampering off to their little plush bed.

Lucan then turned his ruby gaze to Scarlet. It wasn't that he didn't like her – She was alright enough for a human. But she was strange. And he thought she was stupid. But Lucan really didn't think highly of any humans. Scarlet might be his second favorite of the humans that were in the house with them. Dmitri had been around much longer and Lucan admired the man's strength and endurance. He wasn't half-bad for a human. But Scarlet was still Scarlet – She was a tasty treat and he didn't mind the conversation either.

He regarded her with a lifted brow before moving some so that she could come in further. “Need something, I presume.” He canted his head, speaking with his usual Irish lull.


Characters Present

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?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander
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#, as written by Korrye

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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Kaleigh Ann Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon Character Portrait: Lucan Norvel
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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 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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Angiluzza Maniscalco Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Derek Fleitner Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Lucan Norvel
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#, as written by Vix
Lucan leaned his head back, running his fingers through his hair. Where was Rox?! Humans were good for some sex, but they just weren't sturdy enough for him to reach his peak. He frowned and threw himself onto his bed, closing his eyes. His mind wandered as he thought about the time when he was a Forbearer. If he had such a chance to 'rise'...He would. They weren't just his Coven; They were a family. Dysfunctional, but a family nonetheless. He would never be able to shake from his mind the look on Nicholas' face when he was thrown out by him.

That disappointing gaze haunted his dreams.

He rolled over as another equally hurt face entered his thoughts; Angiluzza. She had helped teach him everything he knew about surviving as a vampire. She wasn't chatty, but she played the most beautiful music he ever heard. She was the older sister he never had. He was a shameless man, but the guilt of disappointing them was one he couldn't shake. He sighed and opened his eyes before sitting up. Why was he even thinking about them right now? He should be thinking about destroying Rox as soon as she came home.

He licked his lips hungrily and made his way out of his room and...where was he going? His wolf pups followed behind him curiously as he simply wandered the house aimlessly with a blank mind.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Helena the Bloody Character Portrait: Eva Clarke Character Portrait: Angiluzza Maniscalco Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Derek Fleitner Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Kristof Allucius Character Portrait: Annabelle Jefferson Character Portrait: Isaac Warren Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon Character Portrait: Adonis Charmides Character Portrait: Alessa Dattolo Character Portrait: Jasper Roberts Character Portrait: Lucan Norvel
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#, as written by Vix

Angiluzza was damn near completely unaware of her current surroundings. Everywhere that she looked, all she saw was the deaths of Jasper and her 'siblings' on repeat. She just couldn't get it out of her mind...She could feel her body back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She soon felt arms around her and began to struggle against the arms, feeling immediately threatened again as she cried out. “No! Get off of me!” Her cry became more of a roar until she felt Derek's fingers wiping the tears from her face, smearing some of the blood. But the blood smearing didn't matter to her because Derek was holding her. She practically crumbled in his arms, leaning into him as he lulled her with a soft 'shh'. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered softly, closing her eyes shut and cringing against him.

“I tried to protect them! I did...But it-” She choked up and broke down into more sobs as her body went limp. How could they have fended them off on their own? They hadn't gotten to their 'breakfast' yet and it was...unexpected. No! There was no excuse at all! Derek had trained her and she had trained as formally as it got with her Senseis for over three decades! How in the hell could she have been so defenseless against them?! She berated herself mentally over and over again. She would have been slamming her head into a wall except she was limp, tired, and there weren't that many walls nearby suitable for that sort of beating.

Instead, she looked up weakly, sniffling. “ fault. And I'm so sorry. Please don't make me go...Don't let me go.” Her voice was as soft of a whisper as it could possibly be. She lowered her head back down, resting it against his chest as she fought back the hysteric fit threatening to overwhelm her. She was reflexively breathing as though hyperventilating, finding the feeling of not being really out of breath so strange and frightening; it had been a while since she breathed. She imagined that was what it felt like to drown, driving her further down the road to hysterics. Her body went from limp to rigid as though she were physically bracing herself for hysteria to slam into her.


Kristof chuckled as Helena remarked that they just might kill the girl off simply because they felt like it. He almost sneered as the girl cowered as soon as his beloved left. “Come on.” Kristof didn't trust the girl as far as he could thro- Well. Considering his strength, that particular phrase was somewhat useless. The point is that he didn't trust the girl enough to let her run off on her own nor to follow him. He motioned for her to come with him, though on a second thought he grabbed her wrist. As they ran, he did his best to move at the pace that was her peak so he didn't just end up dragging her along like dead weight.

He knew exactly what Helena had in her twisted little mind, which did make his lips curl into a devious smirk. To break Dmitri...Now that was something that he would like to see. It had been ten years – Ten years was longer than any human had ever survived with them. At least as far as the slaves went. He couldn't deny that the human intrigued him. But not enough to really care for him; The only person that he cared about was Helena. Though he was positive that little Kelsey was already scheming on how to seduce her way into the black hole that his heart used to exist within.

As she grunted for him to wait, he ignored the request as they had only just come up to the house. He released her hand but kept going, causing her to stumble and fall; how ungraceful. He sighed and breezed on in, finding Lucan pacing and Scarlet cleaning. He smirked “You missed a spot.” His fist went through the nearest wall. “Clean it up.” He spit on the floor nearby before heading down into the basement, Kelsey in tow right behind him, her eyes looking about in wonder. “What happened here?” Her mouth hung open and her eyes got wide. “Great sex.” Kristof chuckled, a chill going down his spine as he remembered just how much he had enjoyed it.

He was at Helena's side soon enough, wrapping his arms about her waist and pressing his face into her hair, inhaling slowly. “You're such a bitch sometimes,” He whispered softly, moving his face down to her neck, kissing her ivory flesh softly. “but its so God damned sexy.” He bared his fangs, though he didn't bite her as he looked over at poor little Kaleigh. “Well. Aren't you just a broken little bluebird?” Kaleigh cried out, pleading to be let go. But Kristof knew it wasn't going to work. It seemed as though Helena's need to break Dmitri was now priority over Kaleigh's wellbeing. Poor little thing – Kristof can't say he cared too much about her. She had no spirit. No fight in her. She was boring.


Dmitri had spent as much time as his voice would allow whispering to Kaleigh, trying to cheer her up in such a dismal situation. He told her about the time he accidentally glued his dad's hand to the doghouse and the time he replaced his cousin's refried beans with cat food. The soft smiles and light giggles warmed his heart – Did he truly love this girl that was nearly eight years his senior? Of course he did! How could he even question it? How could he not? She was so...Kaleigh. A sweet, innocent thing. And she loved him. One could not express in words how it made his heart soar to know it,

It had been silent for a while and he could hear pacing upstairs along with the sweeping of broken glass; Lucan and Scarlet? Probably. He sighed and slumped a little more until the sound of Helena's voice caused him to stir. His immediate reaction was to spit at her feet, but he caught himself before doing so, remembering that Kaleigh was at stake for his actions. He ground his teeth and looked away from her. That is, until Helena spoke a phrase that he had only heard in his frequent nightmares. She was soon joined by Kristof and a blonde...Great. A new vampire.

“Ohhh. He's cute! Can I have him?” She eyed him like the food that he was, inching closer. Dmitri kept quiet, his head held high and proud. He knew that he wasn't today's lunch...It was Kaleigh. The drastic measure he never thought Helena would take. How could she be so cruel?! It was true – She really had no heart. And Kristof wasn't any better. He looked over at the crying Kaleigh and his lips quivered as he fought another stream of tears. “You've already done that. Remember?” He hissed at her, remembering the day that he walked in ten years ago to see his then-future husband taking his last breath in Helena's arms.


Lucan glanced as Helena breezed in followed by Kristof and a new girl. Oh joy – A newborn. From the generation of the whores. He sighed but said nothing, for it wasn't his place. Typically, at least in the Forebearers' Coven, before a human was turned and joined the Coven, the whole Coven must agree first upon it. But Helena and Kristof generally just didn't give a fuck what the others wanted within the Coven or who they wanted. They did whatever pleased them. But he didn't mind so long as he had company and a home. And Rox...


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Scarlett Wilsten Character Portrait: Roxanne Tataeu Character Portrait: Oliver Alexander
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#, as written by Korrye

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?


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.