Blood Haven, a precast thread

[laceandcogs]

Loren took a deep, slow breath, and looked over at Deagan. Damned smart cuss he is, and I don't like it at all, really, I don't... Even she knew she was protesting too much, but some explanation was called for. "Deagan, I'm not ... important enough to sign that treaty. Really, I'm... no one would care, and... causing trouble is the furthest thing from my...." Useless. She knew all her blathering and careful skirting around the truth was useless when it came to Deagan, and this was after an hour of his acquaintance.

Letting her eyes fall to the treaty, Loren moved closer to Deagan, and whispered now, wanting only him to hear. "You're far from an idiot, Deagan, so I'm going to stop lying to you. I'm not afraid to sign the treaty. I'm afraid to bleed in this room full of creatures that would love to ... eat the sort of thing that I am. You know I'm not mortal, and I know you're no fan of vampires, so I feel comfortable telling you that once one of the less friendly sorts in this room catch the scent, we'd best make our retreat to your... sanctuary very, very quick." Picking up the pen knife, she twirled it in her fingers, assessing the distance between Talon, the creepy woman with him, and herself. "It's a pretty secure place, right?"

Before she lost her resolve, Loren pricked her finger. The first evidence of her.. abnormality would be the color of her blood- not red, not even close. It looked like quicksilver pooling on her finger, a bright silver swell that flowed rather freely. Her signature was quickly made, the handwriting the old-world copperplate style that went out of vogue with plague and illuminated manuscripts. She used only her first name, frowning at the way the silver glittered wetly on the page, standing out far too obviously. Still, better to sign and take a chance than not sign and definitely incur Talon's wrath.

The scent was quickly rising. Deagan would notice it, though it wouldn't hit him the way it might a more... hungry creature. It was a heady, wild scent, like jasmine carried on a swift night wind. It was clean, but nearly narcotic in its intensity, and perceived a little differently by everyone. One woman would report it smelled like cinnamon buns and Christmas morning, another man might say it smelled like lover's sweat and the brand of shampoo used by the girl who broke his heart. It was the sort of scent that raised emotion, invoked memory, inspired desires- for good or for ill. "Let's go, Deagan, shall we?"

 

[Veroe]

IC: Deagan Roarke

"Deagan, I'm not ... important enough to sign that treaty. Really, I'm... no one would care, and... causing trouble is the furthest thing from my...." She began.

"Don't," He told her gruffly.

She looked down on the bloodstained pages of the treaty and whispered, her words only for him to hear. "You're far from an idiot, Deagan, so I'm going to stop lying to you. I'm not afraid to sign the treaty. I'm afraid to bleed in this room full of creatures that would love to ... eat the sort of thing that I am."

"And just what is that?"

"You know I'm not mortal, and I know you're no fan of vampires, so I feel comfortable telling you that once one of the less friendly sorts in this room catch the scent, we'd best make our retreat to your... sanctuary very, very quick."

He nodded, "They'll have to get through me to get to you, Loren, and there are few things more effective as a deterrent than a very upset werewolf." when she picked up the penknife he moved to shield her from veiw of those around glaring out at anyone daring to cast eyes towards her. "You should be safe in the solarium."

"It's a pretty secure place, right?"

"Not really, but only the most determined of blood suckers would go in there."

He was glaring over to the bar where Talon and Redgrave were involved in conversation when the scent of her blood registered. Dozens of memories flooded across his mind's eye at that scent. It was no wonder her scent was so hard to define, it was probably biologically designed to raise scent memories. Deagan finally figured out just what she was. "You're Fae-kind, aren't you? A dream drinker, or a memory walker? I thought your poeple were just tales my father used to tell." The sense of smell was intricately tied to memory and her scent stirred the animal part of him within.

His eyes were becoming golden, like a wolf's the first stage in the transformation of a werewolf. His voice grown husky as he looked over his shoulder and was suddenly struck with feral need to mate with her. It didn't help that her scent was raising the memory of his first experience with sex. He had been eleven and had peeped through the keyhole as Lana had entertained a guest in her private chambers. "Beautiful." He husked.

She put the pen down and looked up at him. "Let's go, Deagan, shall we?"

He took her hand in his but instead of drawing her to leave he lifted it to his lips and ran his tongue over the tiny silvery bead of liquid. "You're still bleeding. Let me help..." At the taste of blood memories assaulted him Lana in her chambers, Talon after the beating he had given him visiting the hospital room for a man to man chat, The way Loren's dressed moved with her as she approached his table...He wanted her...then...more now. His hand tightened on hers as he fought the urge to manhandle her to pull her close to find some excuse to have his mouth on hers right now.

He blinked and turned pulling her along close to him. "We should move now, Loren." Others were looking at them. Deagan was uncertain if they knew what Loren was. If they even knew the source of the scent they were smelling was her, but he wasn't going to give them enough time to find out. So they left the audience hall past the guards and into the interior of the castle proper. Down corridors and up stairs until the reached the glassed in solarium on the southwall of the castle.

beyond the door was a verdant room lined in rows of potted plants. At one end of the solarium was a large fountain of tropical wood nymphs according to the tales Deagan had been told cousins of Loren's people and in fron of the fountain was a stone bench. His sanctuary from the world outside. "This is the solarium, These plants are all tropical varieties but up here above the equator it isn't near warm enough for them, nor do they get anywhere near the sunlight they need. So Talon had the grounds crew install this place," He pointed upward to the banks of bright hot lights above, "Complete with high powered sunlamps. They're not enough to kill a Vampire like Talon, but they're enough to make this room extremely uncomfortable to him or any other vampire. I don't even think he remembers this place anymore."

He gestured for her to sit, "It should be safe until morning where you can escape this castle while he and every other blood sucker is asleep."

 

[laceandcogs]

Loren sat on the bench, keeping her eyes on Deagan's. She wasn't sure what he thought of her, or what he knew of her kind outside the stories from his father, but she knew what she had felt in the sweep of his tongue over her wound- hunger. Not for her blood, but for her body. Clearing her throat, she smoothed her skirt, and rested her elbows on her knees, chin perched on one smooth palm as the other hugged her waist.

"We're more than bedtime stories, Deagan, but not much more." Her smile was soft, but honest, and she flicked the white streak in her hair. "We're born from dreams, sometimes from nightmares. I was brought to life by a thousand million nightmares over a hundred centuries, terrors of running in the dark, stumbling, falling, bleeding feet and pounding hearts and lungs worn raw with the stolen breath of flight... nightmares of being pursued, chased, teased and drawn in, by foes real or imagined. I mostly look like this, though, of course, I cover up my eyes. They're not the sort of eyes people want to look at. And in dreams, I could look like anything you wanted, anything you feared."

She wasn't sure how he would understand her, if he would want to know more, if he would want to watch her change. If he bid her, she would show him, she would reveal those maddeningly silver, swirling eyes, or take the figure and face of anyone he named- not to impress him, not to prove herself, but because he'd asked it. She was, above all else, a creature meant to indulge fantasy.

 

[Light Ice]

Break her?

He was broken. Long broken. Longer then anyone in this room could know. Talon, for all his foresight, had long ago made his business that of the immortals. Men, simple sons of men, were not of his concern unless they held some importance. Marcus had none. He had nothing. Nothing except for this moment, held anything to Marcus save the woman inside.

And while -that- might have been to Talon's interest, fucking his assistant did not seem to be. That was a small mercy because she was good, painfully good, and the soft line of her body driving against his was keeping the insanity of his faults from touching home in him again. She was lifting and dropping, soft hips stroking fire through his body as sensations took precedence over memories and thoughts.

She made her confessions and he heard them, heard her whimper against his neck and the side of his face as kisses turned sloppy with haste and his own devolved to bites against the lean line of her shoulder.

"Break with me." He growled.

And he prayed, prayed to Gods that did not exist that when the torrent came it would cleanse him. He prayed that if they would be broken it would be in unison, his hard cock buried to the hilt in the tight grasp of her body while she shook and trembled around him. The hot wet of her body would somehow take his fire and turn it cathartic, burning its way through all the parts of him that were corrupted and shattered. It would lay waste to what made him this way, weak like her. And that when they were through the ache would be gone. The want absolved.

And at last, finally, Marcus would find freedom.

"Break!"

An order, sharp and sure. The kind of near-desperate intensity of a man wild unto himself, buried in the promise that her lean body offered as he drove himself into the hot depths of her body. She clenched and fluttered around him, milking his hard length with wanton efficiency that left him panting and growling. The sound of their bodies colliding filling the room with wet, wanton slaps and smacks.

Her breasts were young and firm, salacious in their heave against his chest. Tight nipples, pink and hard, dragging against his chest.

She had to be the last. This need was a nightmare he could not wake up from.

 

[LoganDarkHolme]

Ken sat back as Talon glanced at him one last time then moved out onto the dancefloor with olivia. Rolling his eyes ken finished the whiskey in his glass and set it aside waving off a waiter as he strolled by. Ken's eyes moved around the destroyed room. watching the staff scrambling to clean up still from his Fight with Talon. The tingling on the back of his neck once more had his head swiveling around. and once more landed on the other wolf, Deagen...as Talon's memorys served him.

Snorting he saw the look in the males eyes, disbelief, anger, resentment, whatever the male could choke on it for all he cared, his actions where his own. Let the alpha get pissy. With a sigh his eyes turned to the female he was with, studying her, watching her move over to the scrolls after Deagon his brow tilted up as he watched the silvery liquid flow from the girls finger onto the paper. Rising to stand he frowned.. Silver blood? What the hell was that?

Before Ken could move however the other wolf rushed the girl from the room and he strolled over to the scrolls, inspecting the signature he leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent. Even to him it was heady, and his brow arched again. The Girls blood was like the strongest booze, what was she?

looking to the door Deagon and the girl walked out he shook his head and snorts, clearing his nose of the bloodscent he would confront her later. For now he would just relax, let his muscles and body heal, tilting his head his neck cracked in several places and he winced. Come morning he would be sore as hell

 

[Veroe]

Loren sat on the bench, keeping her eyes on Deagan's. She wasn't sure what he thought of her, or what he knew of her kind outside the stories from his father, but she knew what she had felt in the sweep of his tongue over her wound- hunger. Not for her blood, but for her body. Clearing her throat, she smoothed her skirt, and rested her elbows on her knees, chin perched on one smooth palm as the other hugged her waist.

"We're more than bedtime stories, Deagan, but not much more." Her smile was soft, but honest, and she flicked the white streak in her hair. "We're born from dreams, sometimes from nightmares. I was brought to life by a thousand million nightmares over a hundred centuries, terrors of running in the dark, stumbling, falling, bleeding feet and pounding hearts and lungs worn raw with the stolen breath of flight... nightmares of being pursued, chased, teased and drawn in, by foes real or imagined. I mostly look like this, though, of course, I cover up my eyes. They're not the sort of eyes people want to look at. And in dreams, I could look like anything you wanted, anything you feared."

She wasn't sure how he would understand her, if he would want to know more, if he would want to watch her change. If he bid her, she would show him, she would reveal those maddeningly silver, swirling eyes, or take the figure and face of anyone he named- not to impress him, not to prove herself, but because he'd asked it. She was, above all else, a creature meant to indulge fantasy.

IC: Deagan Roarke

Deagan watched as Loren sat on the bench. She was beautiful sitting like that before the running water of the fountain behind her.

He pulled out a baggie filled with canapes from the party. "I was saving these for the young cubs in my pack. Talon has a law here in Bloodhaven that as werewolves reach puberty they're limited to small rations of processed meat until they can control their burgeoning predatory instincts, but if you're still hungry, Loren, you may have some." He stopped then suddenly remembering some of the stories his father had told him of Fae-kind. "I'm sorry, but do you even need food?"

"We're more than bedtime stories, Deagan, but not much more." Her smile was soft, but honest, and she flicked the white streak in her hair. "We're born from dreams, sometimes from nightmares. I was brought to life by a thousand million nightmares over a hundred centuries, terrors of running in the dark, stumbling, falling, bleeding feet and pounding hearts and lungs worn raw with the stolen breath of flight... nightmares of being pursued, chased, teased and drawn in, by foes real or imagined. I mostly look like this, though, of course, I cover up my eyes. They're not the sort of eyes people want to look at. And in dreams, I could look like anything you wanted, anything you feared."

"I'm no stranger to having another form, Loren, the beast within us is something all werewolves have to accept if they want to have any chance at a happy life." He crossed his arms and leaned against the fountain. "This is only one half of the real me, the other is the wolf, together they make up the man that I've grown to be. That is what my father taught me and what I teach all the werewolves of my pack."

"I teach them to not be afraid of themselves, to embrace that other half, even if it frightens them, to accept the animal within."

"I won't ask to see your other form, Loren, if you don't ask to see mine." he held out the baggie for her. "We are who we choose to be."

 

[laceandcogs]

Loren couldn't help but laugh, a sound of true amusement that she muffled behind one delicate hand. "Yes, Deagan, I do eat. I eat and sleep and breathe and bleed just like any person does, though I probably don't get old. I was... born just like this." Extending her arms as if to indicate the body Deagan had already fully noticed, Loren shifted on the bench, turning to face the empty side of it and gesturing with her head. "Sit, please, and save your snacks for your friends."

"I really don't know much about... werewolves. I tend to give all supernatural sorts a wide berth- the dreams of nonhumans are different, sometimes unpleasantly so, and.. well, there is the small matter of my edibility." With a grim smile, Loren tried to forge a happier conversational path. "Though you're probably not the 'what big teeth you have, Grandma!' sort of wolf, anyway."

 

[Sweetp4u]

Lana

She chuckled along with him, the idea was far more amusing than she had first thought… And a lucrative one at that. Of course, who would have live sex shows and sell tickets? Well other than her? Her thoughts turned to Marcus and her grin grew even broader, more devious as her thoughts were churning with possibilities. Minutes ticked by, or so it seemed but were merely seconds before he offered to pick the movie.

A strange man Isaac, almost impossible to read though his aura was a rioting mass of confusion. Was he doing it on purpose or was here really scattered all over the charts with his inner emotions? Trying to ignore the colors and changes, she turned back towards business and less sex.

“Tomorrow would be perfect, about two?” Well into deep night, nice and calming hours and less traffic as souls wandered home with their partners or alone, to settle in before bed. It would give her a couple of hours to discuss his cut and method and shake off any escorts as well. It would also be easier to get to his neck of the woods undetected, she didn’t need questions but planned on them coming despite her wishes. Granted with her nature, it would be easy as hell to dismiss it as nothing more than carnal.

“I’ll need your address.” She smiled almost coyly, her body shifting towards him yet again, closer in an intimate move. She could practically whisper into his ear but instead studied the wild colors around him. Try as she might, to pick his brain for some image of his intimate desires, she could find nothing tangible. No hint, not a single sign or even a model’s face swam within his mind…. As far as she could tell anyway…

So she tried harder, studying him even closer. Her flirty smile turned serious, her eyes darkened but never stilled as she hunted for some impressions… and finally after a few minutes, she blinked and sat up, “.. I’ve never encountered this before.” Probably cryptic, but perhaps he knew her meaning behind her shocked soft comment. Schooling her face to give nothing away, she finished her drink then slid off the stool.

“Tomorrow then.” A flashing smile returned, warm eyes turning to explore the room for everyone’s place and action, again ignoring the mess made. “A pleasure Mr. Redgrave.” She moved to hold out her hand and shake his, waiting to see if he would dare touch her bare skin.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Deagan Roarke

"Yes, Deagan, I do eat. I eat and sleep and breathe and bleed just like any person does, though I probably don't get old. I was... born just like this."

She extended her arms out to let him see her. The dress was still on but it remained molded to every curve like shadowed brushed velvetine spandex eccentuating the seductive inviting shapes of her body. She had a kissable mouth, and Deagan longed to run his fingers through the silken tresses of her hair, but growing up in the same building as a succubus like Lana had taught him the virtue of restraint in such matters. Many were the times she had caught him making a hormone fueled teenage fool of himself peeking in on her bathing or entertaining another or fumbling through an attempt to woo her from Talon's clutches.

Loren shifted on the bench, turning to face the empty side of it and gesturing with her head. "Sit, please, and save your snacks for your friends."

"Alright," He said placing the baggie back into his pocket and sitting beside her. He shifted a little uncomfortably so near a beautiful woman. If she were a werewolf he'd have already asked her to the monthly hunt of the full moon through the woods just outside this castle. They were free after the feast to frolic and just celebrate the night-which invariably led to an out and out orgy. Outside of Lana he had little experience with non werewolf women much less any of fae origin.

"I really don't know much about... werewolves. I tend to give all supernatural sorts a wide berth- the dreams of nonhumans are different, sometimes unpleasantly so, and.. well, there is the small matter of my edibility." She continued lightly, "Though you're probably not the 'what big teeth you have, Grandma!' sort of wolf, anyway."

He smiled showing his still very normal, very human-atleast for the moment-set of teeth. "You may still need the woodsman to rescue you after all, Little Red Riding Hood. Because I just might gobble you up anyway." He didn't mean literally. He was no blood sucking vampire, so he could care less about her blood, and what little meat was on her wouldn't be enough to make it worthwhile to eat her either.

His hand brushed her on the cold stone bench, "I like you, Loren, and I hope you like me too."

 

[laceandcogs]

Loren laughed lightly at Deagan's slightly forced joke, taking comfort in the way he seemed... relaxed. At home. Of course, based on the very little she knew about Talon and his castle, this -was- home for Deagan. She wasn't quite so calm, almost compulsively looking over her shoulder as if she expected hordes of blood-suckers any second.

"Of course I like you, Deagan. I like everyone who hasn't provided me with a reason not to yet." His words gave her a chance to focus on him, and she did so with a small, warm smile. Nervous as she was, Loren was not the sort to let an overture of friendship go unreturned. Then again, she wasn't sure if friendship was all Deagan was after tonight. There was something unmistakably attractive about his no-nonsense, fuck-you-and-your-fancy-dress-party attitude, but he was a wolf in the end. And all Little Red innuendo aside, wolves -devoured- things. It would take quite a bit of champagne to let Loren seriously consider being devoured, and unfortunately, all the bubbly was downstairs.

"Tell me, what did I smell like to you? I hear that it's just a little bit different for everyone, so I like to know..."