Art & Eternity In NYC

(Closed for Nina and I. Please do read though and feel free to send comments. Thanks for your interest!)

Name: Templeton Gault
Race: Caucasian
Apperance Age: Late 20's
Actual Age: Around 200
Hair: Brown, worn short & spikey
Eyes: Dark Blue
Height: 5'10"
Body Type: Lean




"Ain't no love in the heart of the city, ain't no love in the heart of town...."

Templeton softly sang under his breath, trying to distract himself from the biting chill that tinged the November winds. His ultimate destination was finally in sight, The Gas Lamp, one of many art galleries that now littered SoHo in similar fashion to the old porno shops whom used to hold domain over Times Square. Tonight was the opening of a new collection from assorted graffitti artists, not just any old tagger but really those who were redefining street art. Such luminaries as Space Invader, Banksy, Buff Monster, Sheppard Fairy and Mr. Brainwash all had work on display. Not that any of them would actually attending the opening, especially with an artist like Banksy to whom his anonimity is key.

Tonight's opening scheduled to run till about 1am and that was perfect for Templeton, it easily ate up at least half his evening and there was always the inevitable after hours post-party. This was one of the reasons that Temple had chosen the New York to become his city of residence for the last 50 years, lots of night life to occupy those whom can only have a night life. Not that being a vampire was all that bad of a deal really, especially after making peace with the whole "never walking in the sun again" aspect of the package.

Humans didn't realize Vampires were actually real and that was thanks to a brilliant disinformation campaign launched by a group of vampires back in the middle ages. It was a wonderful mixture of some fact (No sun, drinking blood, immortality, stake to the heart) stirred with an epic amount of tabloid bullshit that was bought hook, line and sinker! Vampire's can't turn into animals, do have reflections, still experience both hot & cold and depending on personal taste, some rather enjoy garlic. In fact, most commonly held beliefs about supernatural things were false and this allowed several races to exist undetected.

Upon entering the gallery's front door, Templeton was greeted with passing tray of champagne flutes and the din of fellow patron's chatter. His eyes skipped from face to face quickly, neither recognition nor interest registering as he did a sort of mental inventory of those present. Just because vampire existence wasn't common knowledge didn't make day to day survival still priority number one. But there was no reason to feel any sort of concern and Temple took a sip from his glass, enjoying the bubbly liquid sliding down his throat. Good champagne, great work from artists whom fascinated him and a likely snack sometime before sunrise all led Templeton to smile to himself. There certainly worse things then an eternity in NYC...

Name: Cecilia Mevanwy
Race: Caucasian
Appearance Age: Late 20's
Actual Age: A girl never tells
Hair: Dark Brown, Long
Eyes: Jade/Gold Hazel
Height: 5'1
Body Type: fit, stacked and racked

Fuck! Her hands were wrapped around the soft leather. Her foot had the accelerator flush with the floor. Her V12 was growling its subtle vibrations all through her body. She loved this centuries cars. They ate gas, went fast and were so fucking easy to replace.

Driving south she had just past Greenwich when a different vibration caused her hand to flick the slick black rectangle on her hip and smile. Yes this century was a favorite. Reaching up she pressed the little button for the receiver hooked on her ear.

"Yeah, I'm in the car. What else sounds like money in a garbage disposal unless it is money in a garbage disposal.
No I just pasted Greenwich. No I will not turn around. I'm heading to the city.
What else is called The City in New York, Christ what do you want!!!"

She listened to the triad that sounded so 007 mission and tried her very best not to call the blasted uptight man 'M'.

"You know darlin, I hope that stick comes out of your butt some time before the next mellinium....... Yes I'll go find him. No it's not that fucking hard to do. I don't know how you wonder-girl lost him..... Oh stuff it, I'll be there tonight. Fuck you an your princess." That little button at her ear was damned handy for making unwanted bitching stop too.

She shifted into the final gear and savored asphalt that blurred past even her eyes. The horizon slowly lit like an unnatural dawn. Brightening and twinkling the closer she got till it became the harsh colors she wore her shades for. 'No wonder they're all so blind.' she giggled to herself.

Half hour later she pulled as close to the 'Gas Lamp' as she could in this place. Stepping out of the car she glanced over the crowed. Picking the least twitchy shit head she could smell she sauntered her leather clad ass right up in his face and licked his cheek.

"You know, if I had to... I could find you anywhere now...." she smiled brandishing her keys and a hundred dollar bill.

"If it's here when I come back, I'll give you five more. If its not, I'll turn on my Lo-Jack, find my car.... and then come find you. Sound good?" the tweaker nodded with her keys and the money already in his hand.

She looked around at the city all full of life while her boots carried her to the Gallery. It would figure that his pretentious ass would be here this season.

Ducking in the door she slipped a glass from its tray and her shades into her pocket. She could smell him. He was either here or just left. Shrugging to herself she decided to look over this years up and coming Van Gogh's with little to no interest passing over features. He was somewhere... and she would find him soon.

http://www.shawnhoke.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/Banksy-copy-e1274288705387.jpg

Temple stood in front of the picture for several minutes, quietly contemplating what inspired Banksy to create such unique designs. The "I Heart NY" image was iconic flash art, plastered across thousands of peices of tourist kitsche and recycled by various cities and venues across the world. It was both ironic and had a certain amount of geniune concern, a reference to how the gleam of corporations and progress were taking the true soul out of the city. Admittedly after 50 years in NYC, Templeton was a bit sentiemental for the older days and scenes that used to populate the nightlife.

His moment of nostalgia was interuppeted by a distinct scent that made him slightly frown in annoyance. It was an overwhelming whiff of Burberry's The Beat which meant only 1 thing to Templeton, some cologne soaked hipster was floating through the gallery. He turned his attention away from the photo and started scanning the crowd, sniffing slightly and looking for the distinct combo of skinny jeans, ironic shirt and some sort of douche hat. Unfortunately for Templeton, this only narrowed his search down to about 4 potential suspects and presented a problem. While the idea of killing and eating 4 hipsters had a certain amount of appeal, the least of which being his opinion that he was doing the universe a favor, it was too high of a body count especially in one evening.

Templeton decided that the only way to settle both his need to feed and thin the herd was to simply pick the most obnoxious one. Maybe a thin wallet chain or a scarf would be the one extra detail to help his selection, Temple just really detested this whole emo/hipster scene in general.

Temple moved a bit closer to the one he had selected and stood a few feet away in front of a painting by Mr. Brainwash, Marilyn Monroe holding an AK-47 done in the 4 colored square style of Andy Warhol. He eaves dropped on the conversation the hipster was having with some thin waif girl whom was also attending the opening. The thought of a two for one deal crossed Temple's mind, 2 bodies couldn't be that hard to dispose of with enough effort. His brain started to twist and turn all the details like a Rubiks cube in his mind when his thought process was once again interuppeted.

A woman, short of stature but not lacking feminine curves, had silently slid up on his left hand side and was standing a mere foot away. He watched as she casually sipped her own flute of champagne, eyes studying the peice before slowly shifting her gaze to him. She was a vampire, that smell so distinct to those who knew it, but how had she slipped in unnoticed? Even more so, how had she been able to get so close without pricking any sort of alarms in his head? It meant only 1 thing to Temple and it made him rather uneasy because whomever she was and wherever she came from, she was a very old vampire.

Trying to act casual, Temple took a sip of his drink and turned his full attention away from the hipster and towards her. He decided to make idle conversation, an attempt to ballpark her intentions and then make a hasty escape if neccisary. Vampires were a territorial lot, there was always the chance that she was making sure that Templeton wasn't there to poach on her hunting ground. Well, only one way to find out...

"So what do you think of Mr. Brainwash here? Pioneer or just a remix artist of classic 60's pop art? I'm sure you remember the original wave in a similar fashion that I do...."

Strolling around the scent that told her another of her kind was around was still just as strong. She licked her lips. He was still here. 'Good good good'. At least the information she was given was correct so far. Now all she had to do was locate him and make her introduction.

The Coven, christ she hated that word.. sounded like a flock of 90's pseudo-witches. Anyway. This was her land by default. Her sire's sire's sire's land by claim, some fucking time ago no matter who owns it in human definitions. She swore her sire's sire just bit people to watch the city for him. So darling uptight 'M' had every right to call her princess even though she rarely called this place home. Anyway again, the boy got on someones radar and someone was pissy about it. Then someone bitched to someone else up the bitchy ladder about his tail being lost or missing or dead or some-shit. So someone bitched about that too and here she was, back in NYC.

Politics was not her game. Setting fucktards straight was. Her lips curled up in wicked smile. The words people came up with were just too much fun. She liked them. And why the hell not. If your going to live forever you might as well have some damned fun while your at it. That's why they called her in. She could spot trouble from ten miles away and track anyone. Probably had to do with the yummy Were's she liked to play with, sip on and fuck every once in a while. Those furry shits were kick-ass fun and yummy. Oh yes yummy... Did I mention yummy.. probably did.

SO unlike being in this place. She looked over one coloring book page after another. Arts beauty was definitely in the eye of the beholder, beer holder, whatever. Her eyes skipped over the next few and finally landed on the vampy type she was looking for. Her face settled into a sultry pleased little smile. At least this time she wasn't sent after someone buttfuckin' ugly. His hair wasn't long enough to grab but the deep blue of his eyes made up for that.

Watching him she couldn't figure out if he was here because he liked art or liked the way artsy fucks tasted. So she decided to saddle up beside him and find out just what kinda rider he was.

"So what do you think of Mr. Brainwash here? Pioneer or just a remix artist of classic 60's pop art? I'm sure you remember the original wave in a similar fashion that I do...."

Her head tilted as her eyes bore into his all the while licking the smile off her lips....

"Oh, I remember... just as much as i remember the originals. This is not pioneering, CGI is. To me all of the redoing just doesn't cut it. The young don't possess subtleties or originality. They're too impetuous, pompous and blatant. Thinking they can pick up a brush and poke at the past and poof they have had an original thought concept. All this crap is just overpriced gift wrap. It does however make the artists in question some sort of happy so what do I care. As long as it doesn't show up on my walls I'm good with letting it be what ever it wants to be."

She didn't really give him a moment to process her reply. Both her eye brows popped watching his reactions. Just that little pop, like a child that just heard the lilting annoyance that was the song of the ice-cream truck a mile away. Her free hand left her side and extended in one of the least evolved of all greetings; a hand shake.

She waited.... and waited, not moving, breathing, blinking... for that bit of time to pass before he decided not to bolt for any of the three exits and took her hand in his.

"I'm Cicilly... well Cecilia that is.... "

Her hand gripped his... tighter and tighter... until she saw the corner of his eye twitch. Leaning forward someone would have thought she was bowing over their joined hands but no. She touched her nose to the back of his hand and breathed him in to every single corner of her lungs and mind. Memorizing his unique scent. Then she licked the same spot and stood back up. For a moment she just stood there rubbing her tongue on the roof of her mouth before she released his hand and her devilish smile returned to claim her lips.

"The pleasures mine, Templeton"

With that she slid past him and back out the front door. Only to turn on her heel, facing in the gallery. She took a breath, closed her eyes and let out a sound that wasn't really a scream. She had perfected this quietly shrill tone over many many many years. Every single glass item shattered in the entire gallery. Including all the prissy stands the art was on. Opening her eyes she looked right at him through the craze that was the human reaction to whacked happenings and whispered "Ciao Bello".

Lazily she walked back in the direction of her car, wondering if it would still be there...

"Oh, I remember... just as much as i remember the originals...redoing just doesn't cut it...impetuous, pompous and blatant... overpriced gift wrap..."

It wasn't merely a scathing review in terms of an art critique but also provided a bit of insight for Templeton just how old this mysterious vampiress might be. If her reference to "the originals" was in fact a genuine one, that would make her between five and six hundred years old. While the situation was definetly perplexing and it was rare to run into one as old as herself, she didn't appear to pose a threat so Temple opted to accept the handshake instead of bolting.

That was mistake number one.

Apparently her name was Cecillia and she had a grip like a fuckin bear trap that was a perk of her advanced age. Temple tried to slip his hand free but the pressure only increased, a slightly wince betraying the surprising force being exerted. What occured next probably looked like a simple act of affection to most humans but to vampires, it was a bad sign. Cicilly had marked him, knew his scent and taste, it was a sort of Vampire GPS when trying to track those of their own kind. The only thing that could of made it worse was had she gotten a taste of his blood, it ended up bonding vampires together whether they liked it or not. Imagine being unable to outrun your worst enemy because they will always know where you are at all times? That'll ruin an eternity real fuckin quick.

"The pleasures mine, Templeton"

He stared blankly at her, how the fuck did she know his name? He literally had only said 1 sentence to her 2 minutes previous and clearly had never seen her in his last 200 years before tonight. It meant only one thing, Temple was in some seriously bad shit with some very old vampires. Who, how, why, what, all those things were a total mystery. The only peice of this puzzle was Cicilly and she was clearly already hunting Templeton, toying with him like some sort of smug cat chasing a mouse.

Cicilly had slid past him and was already out the gallery before Temple could even process it all to start peppering her with questions. That oppurtunity would never present itself though as every single peice of glass, from cases to frames to champagne glasses, exploded en mass. The Gas Lamp was instantly thrown into chaos, people screaming and fleeing in every direction but admist the panic, Cicilly still held Templeton's rapt attention.

"Ciao Bello"

While his first instinct was simply to give chase, it was clearly not a wise one. The handshake had established Ciclly's strength edge despite her short stature. It was rather a shame Temple had found himself somehow on opposing sides from her, she was quite stunning. It wasn't merely Cicilly's figure that had caught his eye, though it certainly did get a thorough once over, it was how she carried herself. Strong, determined, self-assured with a healthy dash of sex appeal; why did all the good ones want to kill him?

Temple instead left Gas Lamp pretending to be just another fleeing art afficiando, once again cursing his own personal insistence of using public transit. While the subway was both cheap and a great way to stay anonymous while traveling, it sure made getting certain places quickly a real pain in the ass.

*****************************

Templeton's destination was an all night fortune teller located in the East Village, Madame Toualon, a crackpot at first glance to the casual observer. Crystal ball, palm reading, tarot cards, all your standard mumbo jumbo was what people were meant to see. But to those in the supernatural world, Toualon was an invaluable information source who seemed to know every peice of politica floating throughout the various races and factions within. While no one knew exactly what Toualon really was, rumors ran the gambit from Dryiad to Faye to possibly some forgotten Goddess whose legend was lost in time.

Toualon held up a single bony finger upon Temple's entrance into her parlor, sitting in her usual overstuffed chair in the corner and covered in quilts. For someone whom took the form that could only be described as an ancient French gypsy, her voice was clear as a bell and full of authority.

"Templeton, I have no idea what you did or when you did it. The woman is named Cecillia and she is the vampire princess of this territory, that should give you a bit of perspective. I suggest you find an excellent hiding spot Temple, your in a world of shit my young friend..."

Temple barely heard the end of Toualon's sentence, slamming the door in a mixture of frustration and nerves. The vampire princess of the New York territory? FUCK! Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck!

Templeton headed back towards the subway station, considering all his options. He could try and run though it didn't seem too great of an option, Cicilly already had his scent. Heading home right away didn't seem safe either, maybe people were waiting for him. Temple sighed and rubbed his face, standing on the platform edge and suddenly feeling both very hungry and very tired. The train wooshed into the station and Temple couldn't help but allow himself a small smile at the upturn in his luck.

The only other passenger happened to be a young woman whom must of been getting off of a late shift. Templeton made a mental promise to himself that he wouldn't fully drain her, just enough to quench the hunger. After all, working late shift sucked enough to being with...

Bills placed in the young junkies hand had given her her keys back though she stood there and watched Templeton flee among the humans. She suspected he liked the subway as his scent was found on several located among the many often found dead down there. That could very well by why some of his tails were lost. Ignorance thinking that someone wouldn't use that mode of transportation. Sure the smell is overwhelming and most of their kind has almost no use for the tunnels anymore. That was funny all by it self. She was one of the ones that long ago tried to pry her kind out of the ground. And a great many false comments about how she would never be caught in a rat trap in a rat tunnel sealed quite a few prejudice about the subway systems. She gave up long long ago on trying to change any of her kind. Once they got an idea in their heads it would take a decapitation to remove it.

“And that is why I don't 'do' the politics thing.” she said to her steering wheel. Now that she couldn't play the game. She could. Very very well. Sighing she wove through traffic heading across town. There was one person in this town that would know almost as much as she did and she knew the little tyke had visited her before. Parking two blocks away she dropped her keys in the console. A quick text and her car would be picked up. She wanted to finish the night on foot. Which in NYC you could do that quite easily.

Walking the two blocks she didn't even knock on the old fortune tellers door. The woman was great. She looked like an ol wrinkled caterpillar. Only she did the whole butterfly thing in reverse. She was a beautiful beautiful creature many years ago. Now she spent her time keeping tabs on the old and offering truths and advice to the young that sought her out. Cicilly didn't bother to say much of anything. She just walked to the womans table. It had an ornate lamp, lace doilies and just... things. One of which was a tin box which Cicilly always looted for licorice strands. They tasted better from her than any store in the world.

'Evening Child...'

“You know, you are the only one younger than me that can get away with calling me child.... Tea?”

All the woman did was incline her head. She knew there were worse things than death. She'd seen some of them. Though Cicilly didn't know everything the woman had gone through, she could guess. Cicily let herself past the beaded curtains to the womans living quarters and began making tea. The fortune teller had so many different things to make teas with. About the time she filled two cups with soft delicious smells she heard him. She paused listening to the conversation. She had to bite her tongue. It was comical the way perceptions were. While yes by lineage and by birth she would have been a princess but she didn't see herself that way. Too long ago the trappings of a royal society got on her nerves. While she still holds her title she still preferred to simply be a hunter, a delegate and sometimes a guide. All in all though, hearing his reaction to it, it just might prove useful not to correct them.

The door slammed and she emerged tea in hand. Her eyes crossed from the door to the old woman.
“You know that wasn't nice of you.”
'And you would have me tell him you were in the kitchen. He'd never come back here.'
“No you were nice to him. I meant me. Now he's going to change his routines.”
'You like the chase Cilly..... go girl, what are you waiting for. '
“I like when they have a good head start.”

Grinning she handed both tea cups off and slipped so very quietly out the door in into the street. She paused and took a deep breath. Then let it out in half a huff. Her eyes fell on him just before the subway tunnels rubbing his face. He looked tense. Well she could only imagine. Though he might not actually imagine the world of shit he's in. He wasn't running, wasn't changing a routine. Hell he wasn't even looking around.

How the hell did he lose his tails then? He's almost oblivious to the others around him. Shrugging. It really was no matter to her. She still didn't know just exactly what pissed someone off in the first place. She had the orders from the uppities and she had her own fucking way of doing things. They knew it, she knew it.

She slipped down the steps far enough away that all she saw was his foot slip into the train. She vaulted the rest of the obstacles and in a blur was caught up to the trains last car just as the doors slid shut. She pulled the doors back open and slid in. No one was in this car at all. Just stark noise, harsh lighting and the smell of thousands of people after a long day of work. Well. Whatever. Her boots made quick work of the floor and she went through the trains doors. He was three cars ahead, two cars, one.

Looking through the Plexiglas the two of them looked like necking lovers. She slid the door open and timed her footfalls with the girls heartbeat till she was naught but three feet away. She watched for a moment. There was just something about watching another feed that just made her squirm. Though enough was enough and the girls heartbeat began to speed and skip. She lifted her hand began to drum her nails on the metal hand hold. Watiting... watching him stiffen, watching him sniff the air and untangle himself from the girl.

She did the one thing that came to mind. She pounced into his lap while the girl slid to the floor. Grabbing his head her tongue poked out and licked an errant crimson drop from the side of his mouth. Then... then she just smiled at him smelling the life on his breath along with the fear. Her head dipped ignoring his physical and verbal protests till her lips were just by his ear.

“You know what happens now..... right?”

Giggling she felt him still and sat up to wriggle suggestively in his lap. Her face was almost a plastic thing. It said sexy, sultry.. get your fuck on.... with an edge that clearly said that wasn't the case. Like liquid encased leather she slid from his lap hoisted the girl up off the floor and dropped her in his lap.

“You clean up your fucking mess!”

-Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap. The drumroll of finger tips starteled Templeton from his focus on feeding but he remained calm, hoping that it was merely a subway cop "busting" two young kids for necking. A sniff of the air dismissed that hope quickly, a cool dread instead settling over Temple as he realized it was Cicilly whom was clicking her nails against metal. The girl limply slid from his arms and simply pooled on the floor like so much fabric, her purpose served with a more pressing matter suddenly at hand. -

- What surprised Temple was the fact that the second his meal left his arms, Cicilly had simply invited herself to take over position on his lap. Eyes widened in surprise as her tounge licked an errant droplet of crimson from the corner of his mouth, apparently age had left Cicilly rather forward as to expressing her desires. Templeton started to form some sort of resistance and protest for while not usually object to having women in his lap, this was decidedly the exception to that rule. Whispered words in his ear and a suggestive wriggle of her hips almost changed his position on the matter until the follow up sentence and actions reminded Temple of the exact situation he found himself in. -

“You clean up your fucking mess!”

- To anyone else in the world, the response would of been defiant and lurid with sarcasm. These unfortunately were less then normal circumstances so Templeton setteled for hiss of annoyance. A physical fight on the subway didn't present very good odds for his survival, especially considering Temple remained unaware of why exactly Cicilly was hunting him. Mercifully the next station arrived quickly and the trio exited the train, Temple carrying the girl like a drunken date and Cicilly following a few steps behind to watch his every move. It was very apparent to Temple that survival here was going to be based on brains and not brawn. -

- In true New York fashion, it was simple to flag down a cab to deposit Templeton's "friend" and send her home. The driver barely paid attention to his explination of her drinking to much, needed to get home, blah blah blah. All the cabi cared about was the hundred dollar bill that appeared at the end of the story which earned Temple a nod and a simple "Got it bub". That minor problem solved, Temple shifted his full attention back to Cicilly and the overwhelming problem she presented. -

"Ok, here's the deal. I don't know why the princess of NYC is hunting me and I'm sure your not about to exactly tell me either. But I sure as fuck believe in last requests and you clearly have to be old enough to honor that tradition."

- Temple paused just long enough to acknowledge a slight nod to his last request proposition. At least she was sporting about the whole thing, all though that also clearly meant Cicilly felt comfortable enough to toy with him. -

"Since we're already in Grammercy, I know a local bar where we can talk business in peace. Besides, I'm sure you'll be rather amused by it all anyway, it's something humans call a -Temple made air quotes with his fingers while snickering- "vamp bar". Stupid fuckers pretend to be us because they obviously don't know we exist. I know alot of our kind drops by for easy snacks and cheap booze. Drinks on me, why not, live tonight like I'm fuckin dying at dawn."

- Temple gave her a wink, rather enjoying Cicilly making a face at his pun. Different circumstances would of made her interesting to know, a bit of a shame the way afterlife turns out at times. Templeton then reached out and took her hand in his, turning up the street to begin walking the few blocks to their next destination. Naturally she didn't move at first, staring at him in a definitive "what the fuck" expression in obvious reference to his grabbing of her hand. -

"What? I don't get to walk hand in hand with my beautiful executioner? This is my fucking death Cicilly, I'm going out how I damn well please!" -Templeton grinned, a slight chuckle at his own forthcoming joke.- "Who knows, I might even try for a kiss just before you stake me in the heart. Now let's go, I really did want to enjoy a drink and maybe a conversation before you kill me and Vlads is calling like a siren..."

-Dude.... dude just hissed at me. Seriously! BUT. He did hoist his ass off the bench sauntering-a-la-drunk-n-orderly out of the station. Hm. It would be funny if her name was Debbie. -sighs- Stop picking on the snacks Cilly. Shaking her head she watched him pour 'Lil Debbie' in a cab and send her on her way before turnng around to face her. Least she knew now. He was capable of following a direct order without having to be told twice. -

"Ok, here's the deal... princess... hunting... last requests... old enough to honor... tradition."

-So a deal huh. Could be interesting. She wondered if he could even guess how old she really was. Nodding she agreed to allow him to lead her somewhere he felt comfortable. Even if it was air-quote worthy.-

"Grammercy, bar, "vamp bar", live tonight like I'm fuckin dying at dawn."

- Yeah, no. She didn't move till he looked back at her. Then she willed her feet to move one in front of the other, though removing his hand from hers. She needed to find out more about him and so far she could only assume half his tails simply gave up. Why? Because, what the fuck, that's why. She knew he couldn't make it roughly two centuries being completely fucking stupid. Then he opened his mouth again.-

"What? I don't get to walk hand in hand with my beautiful executioner? This is my fucking death Cicilly, I'm going out how I damn well please!" -And the crap kept coming- "Who knows, I might even try for a kiss just before you stake me in the heart. Now let's go, I really did want to enjoy a drink and maybe a conversation before you kill me and Vlads is calling like a siren..."

“You do know that sirens call men to their death right?”

-Laughing she continued walking with him and watching his mouth, his eyes, his body language. She could hear music long before it was humanly audible so she knew they were getting closer. Her smile never really left her face. I mean whats to not smile about. Ive been reminded that I'm old as honorable traditions. So why not smile on a fine night such as this. Yet it was more than that. While she was playing 'cat and mouse' he was playing 'fuck with kitty' and stalling for something.-

-The whole while hes basically accepting his death with words he was looking for his way out. His dialog never ceased either... Then, she realized. That little motherfucker. He 's being tactically stupid. 'Baffle them with bullshit' and 'The greatest lies are made up of mostly truth.' She almost laughed. This one was going to be a bit more fun than she thought. It was not the first nor would it be the last time she babysat a young one. Though this wasn't just some fucking babysitting job no mater how juvenile Mr Artsy Fartsy was acting. -

-The hand at the small of her back as he led her in the door wasn't at all juvenile. Especially as his thumb traced lightly over her spine. Once through she took in the “Oh-So-Gothness” of the place and slipped into the crowd. She danced through it without dancing. Simply moving to the music and the cadence of many heartbeats. Her eyes though kept his most of the time. Except when she would acknowledge a body under her fingertips.-

-She slipped completely through the crowd, feeling all of them. And. Thinking. He was telling mostly truths; he didn't want to die by a stake to the heart, he did want to kiss her, he held honor and traditions very dear to himself and something was going to happen by dawn.-

-Sliding into a chair at his chosen table her eyes flicked to the exits and doors locations. Then let herself relax into the seat, took up his gaze and held it-

“You should relax a little. If I was going to just kill you the only time you would have seen me was while your death scream escaped your lungs.”

-Smiling she giggled... her purring, happily wicked giggle-

“Now, conversation. One thing I'd like to know is why you think your on my hit list and if theres any fucking reason I should take you off it.”

"You should relax a little. If I was going to just kill you the only time you would have seen me was while your death scream escaped your lungs."

- Templeton's expression was a mirror of one that Cecilia had displayed earlier, an incredulous "You've gotta be fuckin kidding me". But clearly she was unfazed by the look, instead slipping into a giggle that was dually adorable and terrifying. Cici pressed Temple for information, laying it out in such a manner that it seemed a suitable explination may save himself. -

"Why do I think I'm on your list? What could possibly of made lil ole me, a youngster, a target for someone of your skills?" -Temple paused for dramatic flair, rather enjoying this tiny bit of theater. Of course his survival was dependant on actually telling Cici the truth but that didn't mean he couldn't fuck with her just a tiny bit. - "I honestly thought it had just kinda gone away when nothing happened for the first 20 years. I mean fuck, it's 75 plus years after the fact at this point; did the paperwork just get lost?!" -Temple sighed in aggravation at his situation and the apparent slow mechanisms of vampire justice. -

"It happened back in 1945, shortly after World War 2 ended and all the GI's started returning home en mass. As I'm sure you remember Cicily, the population influx led to a boom time for our species in terms of both feeding and converting. Well as I'm sure you also know, when you start that sort of mass production with minimal oversight, your going to get a certain amount of undesirable product."

-Temple stopped just long enough to glance around for a waitress but to no avail, instead returning to his story. -

"There was this one asshole, freshly minted vampire named Andrew, who just refused to follow any sort of discretion or decorum. Reguarly for several months the Post would run a story about some mutilated corpse being discovered with always the same MO. Female victims with their throats ripped out and "animalistic" bite marks covering their thighs. Now how do I possibly fit into this story you may ask yourself?"

- Again a pause in the conversation to scan for a waitress though once again it's a futile exercise. Templeton growled in annoyance before again returning his full attention back to Cici. - "I swear to christ, people have evolved out of good customer service as I've aged." - His comment earned him a giggle of amusement which in turn made Temple grin, Cecilia was stunning and those feminine flashes made him wish for different circumstances. -

"Simple case of right place & right time while doing something that's technically wrong. I just happened to breaking into the Metropolitan Muesuem of Art to "obtain" some artwork that would help fund my continued afterlife. I discovered Andrew was snacking on the curator, draining from her femoral artery before his inevitable post-meal tracheostomy. So simply put, I ripped a chunk of frame off some ungodly abstract peice of shit and staked him. It's one thing to bring attention to our race but it's another thing entirely to feed on an art curator. Fuckin low class mongrel."

- Templeton once again stopped to look for a waitress before cursing in disgusting and turning back to Cicily. - "Fuck this, if we want a drink I'm clearly going to have to get it from the bar myself. I'll be right back with a round of beers and then I'll start my pitch for why I don't deserve to be on said list any longer." - Temple reached out and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips with a soft kiss and a wink. - "Try not to miss me."

- Templeton slid from the table and made his way towards the bar, her unwavering stare following every single step. He eased his way into the mass of humanity surrounding the bar, intentionally sliding in next to some goth queen who was loudly complaining about the lack of service. It was quite apparent that she had ingested a few stiff drinks because she had just the hint of a sway, it meant she was likely full of liquid courage. Their conversation was brief, most of it held while Temple looked forward like he wasn't even acknowledgeing her. But it worked perfectly, Gothy instantly believed that Cicily had been mad dogging her all evening and talking trash. Well Gothy was going to "show that lil bitch a thing or two" and "teach her to talk shit about people being 'fake' vampires". -

- Temple turned around just in time to see the exchange start, Gothy screeching some incoherent nonsense and liquid flying towards Cicily's face. Though his window of escape was tiny, Temple couldn't help but take the extra second to play a little tit for tat. -

"Ciao Bella"

- Through a side exit and into the night Templeton streaked, the sound of erupting chaos his soundtrack to the great escape. It wasn't a permanent solution by any means but at least it meant that Temple could get home before dawn and hopefully put off any future encounters with Cici for a few evenings. Hopefully.... -

Reclining in her seat she mused over time with her fingers steepled under her chin. While 75 years might mean something to some it meant nothing to ones as ancient as her. She had taken several naps that long in her lifetime. The only thing it did mean is that he still had a mortal view on time.

She watched him and his theatrical exposition and the flow of the room for sighs, patterns, shifts, shifters and more of their kind with near non expressions. The words filtered through though. Apparently he killed someone’s pet and they now have the authority or rank to seek vengeance. That was NOT typically something she was sent to take care of at all. The more he twitched the more she faded out of the conversation. As far as she was concerned this was less about getting him out of the way and more about getting her out of the way. So when he rose she made no move to stop him. She watched him and his carefully planned escape even smiling as he bid her fare well.

The minor inconvenience of having the much drunken wench in her face was nearly comical.
"So, you think we're a joke!"
The human pushed her and reclaimed the space she just formed.
Her next bit of bravado was cut off as Cicily's hand closed over her wind pipe. Black tipped nails curled, pressing into flesh, creating five little streams.
"As a matter of fact, I don’t. You're just young and gullible." She hissed into the females’ ear before tossing her back into the crowded dance floor where she tumbled through the pins of people like the bumbling ball she was.

Catching the eye of the few like her in the club she whispered "Take care of that." Then she strolled out the door licking her fingernails.

"So, he wants to keep running away, hmm." She closed her eyes and breathed in the city. A shiver settled over her as she quieted everything in her mind. Hunting was easier when your prey knew it was being chased but it was more fun when they didn’t.

She walked in the direction of his scent. Around buildings, across buildings, over them, through patches of trees, all while mulling over what she would do with him when she caught up with the slipper little eel. She could just turn away and find something else to do but for whatever reason those within the coven wanted her busy and gave her something to play with. How nice of them. At least he was attractive. She was going to have so much fun seeing what else he would confess in order to keep his life.

Very close to dawn she found she was standing in front of a museum, the very one he spoke of. He really was a creature of habit. Leaping to an upper window she found his scent and the window open. Memories touched her as she passed exhibits of lives suspended in time. Down she went, into the lower levels, his scent stronger, old and new. She kept herself silent even though she did have want to give a happy little gasp as she caught sight of him slipping into a tomb.

She waited until she felt the sun crest the horizon - knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to reopen the tomb. Well, sarcophagus really. Cecily climbed atop the ornate surface and drummed her nails on the lid.

"Someone likes their cliché’s a little too much. Sleeping in a coffin? You didn’t really think you could get rid of me that easily Temple? Did you? When there is so much fun to be had?"

- Templeton had barely closed his eyes for 2 minutes when he heard her voice through the stone. Fucking hell. He was didn't have the energy the move the heavy stone, still young in terms of the undead. This meant also Cicilia was even older then he had originally guessed. Double fucking hell. -

Already Cici? Really? You couldn't just let me sleep and then we start this whole dance at dusk again? Of course not. -sighs loudly- Well, fuck it. Open the lid and stake me darlin, let's get this over with.

- No sound. No movement. No searing light and sharpened wood. Temple pressed on, at least she was listening. Possibly. Or screwing with him. Hard to tell. -

Or you could be sporting. Let me sleep. Take you out to dinner tonight. No goth wenches launching drinks at you. I'm charming. Interesting. A great lay. -Facepalm. Why did he just say that?! Nervous laughter- Urm, ignore the last part. But dinner? Hunting? Maybe just chase me around the city for shits and giggles?

-Another silence that seemed to stretch for eternity. Somehow 200 years of existence had slowed down to these last 5 or so minutes. It was her move, her call. Templeton's fate was in Cici's hands. -