V;tm — The Vixens Inn

[StarXChyld]

Born in 1898, to a beautiful but bitter Parisian streetwalker, her life was never meant to be easy. Her father was unknown but it was rumored that he was a Cardinal in the Archdiocese. Not that it mattered. . .her mother wasn’t religious and her father certainly wasn’t pious. She spent the youngest days of her life huddled on a small mattress tucked in the back of her mother’s closet, a thin, moth-eaten pillow pressed tightly to her ears to drown out the sounds of her mother’s mournful sexual stirrings as one john after another visted her late into the night.

She lived for the sunlight.

In the sunlight, her mother would take her hand and lead her through the dank and dirty back streets to the Louvre, an awesome museum bathed in light, filled with images that would help entertain her in her darkest moments. Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir. . .these names became her heroes, her salvation. She would observe her mother’s face as they began their journey, her eyes so dark and intense as they traveled the garbage-strewn back alleys and then, so soft and wet as she gazed upon the paintings of these glorious artists. It was the only time that her mother spoke directly to her, speaking to her in hushed tones of the various methods and lifestyles of each and every artist exhibited.

As she grew older and came to understand her mother’s “business”, she began to loathe the men that came to visit her mother each night. She was introduced to the other women that her mother referred to as “sisters”. All of them stunning in their own right but each one tied to the same man she heard mentioned over and over again. . .Six. Six paid for their clothes, their meals and of course, the roach-incrusted flats he provided for their nightly entertainment. He saw to it that there were always several men waiting and eager to visit the “sisters” each night and pay for the privilege handsomely.

Somehow, her mother had managed to keep Saffire hidden from Six’s eyes for 18 years. Tucked in the closet, those mournful sounds from the other room filtering through her pillow, filling her with shame and a perverse sensation of excitement as her mother’s voice heightened and then fell into gentle whimpering. Then one night Six visited her mother and the sounds ceased forever.

Huddled in the corner of the mattress she had outgrown, Saffire listened as the man they referred to as Six entered her mother’s room. At first her mother’s voice was light and flirtatious. Then it turned low and ominous as the man continued to speak in a calm and confident manner. Suddenly there was a shrill scream and the closet doors were savagely drawn open before Saffire had a moment to think. She only had to look up into the glowing red eyes that stared down at her with a grotesque smile to know that her life was never to be the same again.

Grabbing her by the arm and pulling her harshly from her hiding place, he grabbed her by her slender shoulders and forced her to face the bed where her mother lay dead. She lowered her eyes in grief but his voice prompted her to attention once more, “Is this your fate, mon cheri?”

Before she knew what she was doing she shook her head sharply. His laughter echoed in her ears, “No. . .I thought not. You are too smart for that after having hid from me for all this time.”

She vaguely remembered lunging for the sapphire amulet that her mother had worn around her neck before it was brutally splintered and bloodied. Her last moments were a horrifying sensation of searing pain as Six viciously tore into her tender flesh, relieving her of her sweet precious life source.

Some time later she recalled scratching and biting her way through the hard red clay that lay between her and the unlife, each claw of her nails ripping yet another shred of her diminishing humanity away from her soul until once she broke ground. There was nothing left of her previous life except the sapphire amulet that Six had placed around her neck in a mock gesture of compassion to her fallen mother.

He pulled her from the ground, his ugly red eyes glowing into hers and snarled in satisfaction, spit spilling from the corners of his foul-smelling mouth. “Welcome to the dark side, mon cheri”.

Before she could blink, two shots rang out in the dark and Six fell to the ground before her feet. Two men ran up and staked the limp body, dragging him quickly away. She watched silently, her moth agape, her tiny fangs glistening in the moonlight. One of the men (Assamites) turned back to look at her briefly before yelling at his partner. “What about her?”

“Leave her! She’s a neonate and a Sabbat one at that. . .she’ll never survive.” And with that, they were gone.

She didn’t care. She was hungry.

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

For over a hundred years, she traveled Europe, taking her meals where she could find them. She learned quickly that sunlight would never again be her friend and that the night held her only interest. Dressed in the ruby red velvet gown that Six had originally found her in, she traipsed through the same back alleys her mother once occupied. The same type of men that had once called on her mother now became a few measly bucks and a meager meal for Sappire.

Slowly, she became aware that if she concentrated on her prey, she could mold his body into any shape she so desired. She could break bones, mold flesh and putrefy his entire body before killing him in a bloody feast. This fascinated her and tempted her into darker and more sinister experiments. She discovered she could mold her own body as well. This experiment startled her but didn’t slow her in her self-exploration. Within time, she began to think of herself as “gifted”.

One night, while taking refuge in a dilapidated cemetery on the outskirts of London, she found herself in a most awkward situation. While reclining on an old marble crypt, a bunch of ruffians approached her, tugging at her skirts, grabbing her gold-tipped cigarette holder from her painted lips and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Slipping to the ground, ready to include them into her latest experiment. . .a dark mysterious man stepped from the shadows. With little more than a menacing growl, he dispersed the ruffians in less than a minute as Saffire watched in awe.

Once the trouble had subsided he turned to her, his mirrored sunglasses only mocking the darkness of the graveyard, “You look hungry. . .”, there was a mock tone to his gravelly voice.

“A starving artist, you might say, Monsieur. . .”, she lowered her lashes in reverence.

So began the “bond” between Saffire and Razor; Cardinal of one of the greatest Sabbat packs in Europe.


OOC: Anyone interested in playing a character in this thread or any of the other V;tm threads, should take a look at “V;tm, The Vixens Inn OOC” thread. While we're always interested in recruiting new players, we ask that you do not post to this thread until your character has been approved and accepted by this thread-starter. Thank you!

 

[StarXChyld]

Bump

I'm still looking for Razor. . .::wicked grin::

 

[StarXChyld]

Someday. . .

. . .my prince will cum. Dark prince, that is. ::flicks the tips of her glistening fangs with her darting pink tongue::

 

[Adapt]

Is here now

-Looking around the outside of the building he finally entered, ¡°What a quaint little establishment¡± he spoke with a soft tune in his voice as his steps fell silent against the floor of the inn. His hand motioned a glass of the finest wine here to himself, taking it within his grasp, holding it like a true gentlemen would, forking his fingers to hold it from the underside, bringing the raspberry colored fluid to his lips, he slowly took a sip of the colored cherry flavored liquid. With a satisfied sip, he smiled softly, as he came to a table, settling within the cushion of the comfortable seat. Looking up slightly as he relaxed, sighing his contentment as he sat-

 

[StarXChyld]

Bump!

.

 

[Ecclesiastic Jack]

-:|Bump|:-

Unless I catch objections to the contrary, consider the role fulfilled.

 

[StarXChyld]

AND SO IT BEGINS. . .

SAFFIRE DAQUIRI

The twinkling stars of the November night shone through the skylight of the Inn, falling on the young man’s hunched shoulders as he sat alone, sipping his beer in one of the booths. She peered over at him form her position behind the bar. Even in the candlelight she could see the tracks of his tears as they traced their way down his handsome, sullen face.

It had been a quiet evening, with the other Sabbat moving unto new watering holes. Razor was out of the country, “on business” as he liked to call it. She knew better.

The bar had been usually quiet for a Friday night and she had thought about closing up early. Then a solemn young American entered the Inn, asking for directions. He ordered an imported beer and took his place in the dark booth in the corner, coming back to the bar twice for a refill.

Jeremy was playing some beautiful haunting melodies on the piano and slowly the bar began to fill with some of Manchester’s most elite patrons. She chatted and served drinks, glancing to the door occasionally hoping to catch a glimpse of Razor, to no avail. She took her place behind the bar watching the young and the no-so-young ::winks:: socialize and two-by-two make their way to the dance floor. All, but the young man in the corner.

She poured an ice cold beer into a chilled glass and walked it over to his table, setting it before him. He looked up at her, the tears still fresh in his eyes. Her dark blue eyes met his and she smiled softly. “Why not ease your burden? Tell me what makes your heart so heavy on such a lovely night?” She slid into the booth across from him before he could utter a protest.

Painfully, he related his tragic story. After four tumultuous years of high school in the states, he had enlisted in the service only to find himself sent immediately overseas to serve in the Persian Gulf War. Once there, he matured quickly, facing death on a daily basis has a way of doing that. . .

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

One day while on leave in Egypt, he met and fell in love with a beautiful Egyptian woman. Her father had made her take a job as a servant for a hard British businessman. While the pay was enough to support her father’s family of nine, the Brit’s taste for brutality and humiliation was beginning to take it’s toll on the young woman. Each night she returned home with her pay, which she deposited before her father before creeping up the stairs to her room to nurse the bruises and welts her employer had bestowed upon her.


The American had met her in a small crowded market on morning as she shopped for the Brit’s dinner that night. Quite by chance, he had upended her basket on the dirty market floor and the shopkeeper had ordered her out without her produce for that evening’s dinner. She stood sobbing and shaking on the street as the young American soldier tried to comfort her. It was there that she finally revealed her terrible sad secret to him, a stranger with broad shoulders she could cry upon. They fell in love instantly.

He sprang into action immediately. He paid the businessman an unpleasant visit which resulted in the loss of her job as well as a few cracked ribs for the Brit. Then he visited her father, asking for her hand in marriage with the promise that he would continue to support the old man’s family. The father was more than satisfied with the arrangement and as soon as the soldier’s commission with the Air Force was ended in the Gulf, he and his beautiful Egyptian bride were jetting back to a new life in the States.

They bought a lovely house in the suburbs and spent their first night sitting on the floor in the laundry room with their new puppy, “Lucky”, who was too excited with his new home and new family to sleep. He whimpered and scratched at the door until they made the decision to keep him company in the laundry room. The young man didn’t mind, he spent the entire night gazing across the white tiled floor at his beautiful young bride, her face filled with exquisite joy and peace. Her tinkling laughter as the puppy lapped at her nose and chin was music to his ears which were accustomed only to sounds of agony and war for much too long.

The next morning, they decided to run to the store to get Lucky a collar and leash. She had begged her husband to let her drive the American automobile and he could refuse her nothing, being caught up in her enthusiasm of trying everything new. Lucky was allowed to join them for the ride.

The store was a few scant miles from their new home, where all their belongings were still in boxes, waiting to be unpacked. She turned onto the two-lane highway, glancing over at him grinning from ear to ear like an eager child on Christmas morning. He looked at her sternly telling her to watch the road ahead, but secretly cherishing her smile and her zest for this new life. She nodded earnestly, concentrating on her driving.

Suddenly, Lucky jumped into the front seat of the car, crawling all over her, licking her face and wagging his tail. At first she was giggling and trying to push him away while her husband tried in vain to grab the squirming pile of fur. The car swerved violently over the center line, right into the path of an oncoming garbage truck. The last thing he heard was her terrified scream. . .

When he awoke in the hospital, he knew before anyone told him. She was gone. Lucky was gone. He alone had survived. After an extended stay in the hospital, he had returned to his home, the unpacked boxes reminding him of his lost life. His first day back in the deadened house had convinced him to set out on this journey that brought him England and the Vixens Inn.

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

She placed a consoling hand on top of his trembling one. Standing, she gazed down at him, “Come with me. . .”

 

[StarXChyld]

The Evening Paper

The Manchester Mail


United Press Service 11/22/02
Manchester, England

DESERT STORM VETERAN FOUND SLAIN

Steven Brickmann was found dead late last night on the outskirts of Manchester. Brickmann, a member of the Special Forces for the U.S. Air Force, had traveled to England to deliver the remains of his wife, Tamaria Arafati, to the rightful resting place with her family here in Manchester, where they had recently relocated due the the conflict in the Middle East.

She had been tragically killed in a car accident back in the States. Tamaria’s father, Kareem Arafati, stated that Brickmann had come to his home yesterday afternoon to deliver the remains of his daughter and present him a a sizable check from his daughter’s life insurance policy. “Enough to see my five sons through University”, Mr. Arafati was quoted as saying.

The circumstances of Mr. Brickmann’s death are being withheld pending U.S. Government verification. One source close to the case however, claim that when Brickmann’s body arrived at the Manchester County morgue, the medical staff was shocked to discover that the body had been completely drained of blood. The coroner has refused to comment.

 

[StarXChyld]

Saffire Daquiri

Saffire dropped the newspaper to the counter of the bar, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. The image of the young man filling her mind as she fiddled absently with the amulet at the base of her throat.

He had wept openly as she sped them though the dark deserted streets of Manchester in her corvette. She listened intently as he explained that Tamaria had been the only family he had ever known and now life held nothing for him except to wake each day and relive the pain of his loneliness. He had made the decision to come to Manchester to return Tamaria to her family and make sure her family would live a comfortable life. Then he had planned to take his own life, like the many lives he had taken during his tour of duty.

Finally she had stopped the car at the edge of town, where she was sure his remains would be found before the pickpockets had time to clear his pockets. She motioned him out of the car and walked around to face him as he leaned against the hood mournfully looking at her. The damp November winds whipped her hair around her face and she struggled to pull it back as she spoke to him, “Is it Death that you seek?”

He nodded pitifully. “But I’ve tried! I tried before entering your bar tonight. My training. It prevents me from giving in to defeat. All I know is survival. But this, this I want!” He fell to his knees before her, sobbing into his hands.

She kneeled before him, tossing her gold cigarette holder to the ground and glancing up at the fading full moon. She realized her time with him was scarce. Cupping his chin in her cool slender hand and lifting his face to hers, she whispered, “I can give you what you desire. Tamaria shall come to take you to everlasting life. An eternal life for your eternal love together.” Her sapphire eyes pierced his soul.

He fought her only briefly as her fangs extended below the yielding flesh of his neck. Then he clung to her like a small child to his mother’s breast until his legs could no longer bear his weight. She drank deeply, steadily, occasionally glancing up at the lingering moon. Finally, he slipped out of her arms, lying crumpled on the cold ground before her.

The first rays of the dawning sky clawed their way over the horizon as he gazed up at her peacefully. He draw his last breath and reached to the heavens, “Tamaria! She’s here. . .”

Sapphire stumbled to her feet, silently licking the corner of her mouth, sated at last. The warm vitae of a mournful man quelling the beast within, making her strong.

 

[StarXChyld]

The Manchester Mail

The Manchester Mail


United Press Service 11/23/02
Manchester, England

INVESTIGATION IN U.S. SERVICEMAN’S DEATH BEGUN

Manchester’s police sources confirm that a preliminary investigation into the death of U.S. Air Force Officer Steven Brickmann has begun. An autopsy was ordered by police homicide investigator Seth MacMichael. The findings will not be made public for several days according to the sources.

The body of the serviceman was found behind a meat packing plant under some mysterious circumstances. However Investigator MacMichael refused to call it a homicide. “As we know, things happen in Manchester which are strange to some,” MacMichael stated, “but do have completely understandable explanations once the circumstances are made clear”. MacMichael denied that there was any link between the death of the serviceman and recent anti-American demonstrations near the U.S. Embassy. He also refused to comment on whether the U.S. government was planning it’s own investigation. “They can answer such questions themselves.” MacMichael said.

However, U.S. embassy attache Christopher Keefe said that all avenues of investigation would be explored. “We have a U.S. military officer deceased in a foreign land under unexplained circumstances.” said Mr. Keefe. “Such matters would always be reviewed by the appropriate personnel here.” Mr. Keefe also denied any knowledge that the death was tied to any terrorist or anti-Western agents. “Such inquiries constitute unreasonable conjecture at this point in time.” stated Mr. Keefe. “We simply need more information.”

Police sources said that preliminary information suggests that the officer had been socializing in popular Manchester nightclubs prior to his disappearance. It is believed that investigators will be pursuing several leads in the downtown area.

 

[StarXChyld]

Razor's Visit

The business people and foreign visitors who frequented the Vixens Inn in the afternoon and evening had departed. The next rush consisting of the Manchester elite and upwardly mobile had not yet arrived. A small group of employees stood off to the back talking quietly among themselves. On the second floor level overlooking the entrance and dance floor, Razor sat in at a table outside Saffire’s office, mulling over several documents all bearing the insignia of the Manchester Police Department.

The low growl of the powerful Corvette engine could be heard amid the low chatter below. The front door of the in swung open and the clicking of the trademark six-inch stiletto heels made their way across the polished floor and towards the stairs. Her long blonde tresses glistened reflecting the halogen ceiling lights as she moved up to her office.

As she turned toward her office, she spied Razor pouring over some papers. Sine the death of Brickmann, Razor had become somewhat of a drag to the active social life Saffire normally enjoyed. She threw her purse over to one of the tables, reached for a bottle of wyne and some glasses. Tossing her mane backwards, with an insolent look flashing across her face, she mocked his seriousness. “Yesssss?”, she faintly hissed.

Without looking over to her, Razor quietly inquired, “Been busy?”

“Not really. . .”

The gravity of the circumstance weighed upon his statements. “Well, others have. . .the police.” His voice trailed off.

“So?” Her voice feigned indifference.

Looking up from behind his mirrored sunglasses, he gazed at her. She reached for her purse, taking out a package of Galouise cigarettes and tapping then against her wrist before filling her gold-tipped cigarette holder. Pretending to be unconcerned, while a small twitch in her left eye betrayed her, she slipped into the chair across from him, “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.” She signed, lighting up the cigarette.

Furrowing his brow, Razor spoke quietly. “What part of this don’t you understand? A American serviceman. . .a war hero. . .is found dead under. . .” He paused for a long moment then continued, “Unusual. . .circumstances in a foreign land while anti-American sentiment is strong.” He glanced down at his leather boots and then back at her harshly, “Of course, there would an investigation. While the local police are a little challenged. . .” He paused again and looked away, “Others are not.”

 

[Adapt]

Dante

-The winters night blew thru the air like a razor thru flesh, the wind was harsh on him as he walked, still regal and perfect as he made his way into the inn, sliding the door open, as the white flakes pounding at him relentlessly from the winds east, shaking the coldness from his cloak as he walked in, his form shaking not as he steeped with calmed feet into the inn, his head tilted from side to side, a slight cracking sound heard as he twisted with ease to break the tensions in his neck.

He thought about his time, how feeble it was, a horrible shade of black that surrounded his every path, he sighed deeply as silent steps touched down lightly on the floorboards of the inn, such a restless night it was, deep in sorrow and pain, he was worthless, not such for a name, having killed all of his sires and servants in a angry rage that day, his hands deeply bloodied as he took his steps across the inn.

Again a sigh as he looked up, his hands flowing with grace to remove the snow covered cloak from his beautiful locks, letting it fall to his shoulders in cresses as he slipped into the both, a dim red light cast on him in the booth as the waiter came to him.

“Something deadly” he whispered in a regimented voice, then looking back to him.

“What was that Sir?” the waiter spoke in a toned low voice.

“Just some water with ice” Dante this time spoke at him in a uplifted tune in his throat.

The waiter nodded as he walked away, finally leaving him to soak in his misery, forget what happened he thought, so, a Sabbit is loose, he didn’t care anymore.

Finally the waiter came back, glass in hand and placed it on a coaster. Dante nodded his acceptance as he curled his fingers around the glass lazily, taking it to his lips, a soft sip meeting the bliss bitten lips, swallowing as softly as it touched his lips, the sensual muscles, clutching the throat as he drunk lightly, like liquid his motions with smooth as the cooling water caressed his neck as it continued to flow down his throat, finally ending in his stomach, looking up, another solitary soul in the same inn, shaking his head lightly he just sits there, sulking in his own death and bloodshed, strangely not a tear shed-

 

[StarXChyld]

Razor stood leaning in the doorway of her office on the second floor, peering down at the lone form sitting at the bar. "It appears our friend has arrived early. Not bad for a Torrie." He snickered under this breath.

"Really?" Saffire rose from behind her desk, a little too eagerly in Razor’s estimation. He smirked at her from behind his mirrored sunglasses.

"Yeah? What of it? Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for Mr. Artsy-Fartsy? The only reason I suggested this plan was because you fucked up so badly. One less Primogen at that meeting Simeon called, one less Elder for Natalia to order about. . .it all works to your advantage, thus OUR advantage. I didn’t bring him here so you could have a new Boy Toy."

Saffire pressed her hips tightly against his as she moved through the doorway, running the tip of her long nail along the scar on his cheek. "Why, my darling Razor. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous."

He snatched her hand from his face, crushing it in his brutal grip until she was on her knees before him. Bringing his face within inches of hers, he spit the words at her. "Don’t be cute, Saffire. I’d just as soon kill you and put you out of my misery. You’re a fucking luxury I can’t afford much longer. But long enough to have a little fun with the Prince of the Camarilla."

He released her and she quickly sprang to her feet, hissing at him even as she backed out of the room, rubbing her wrist, "Fuck you, you dickless wonder. ' Not my problem that you fucked so many skanks that it eventually fell off." She scurried towards the stairs as he lunged at her, grazing her shoulder with his claws.

"Bitch!" He hissed quietly from the top of the stairs, his red eyes blazing in the shadows.

She turned briefly and blew a kiss up to him, "I love you too, Mousier Razor." Resuming her descent, she glided down the staircase, stopping on the bottom step.

"Dante’. . .welcome!" She waited for him to look up at her and then she sauntered towards him.

 

[Adapt]

Dante

-Hearing something upstairs he didn’t care now to see what the argument was, nor did he want to, his eyes shifted from the beautiful Sapphire filling to regal almost black orbs as he thought about what he did, his hand shifting to look opened palm back to himself, daydreaming about how he killed his whole homestead that evening, leaving pools of blood everywhere, massacring the helpless souls with out even a flinch, Evan, Ellis, Joanna, were the first to go, he invited them to his room, letting them have sex for the last time between them, letting Evan and Ellis use Joanna to there delight before he deposed of them, then giving Joanna a true delight, him, then finally ridding of her, then the last two, the ones he liked, Nara and Aaska, he give himself to them before disposing them in a proper way, letting them taste his bite, then finally burying them.

He had only one sire, but she was wear, afraid of this new world, he deposed of her as well, it seemed he had no luck, at anytime, he couldn’t find another that was worthy to sire.

The waiter brought him another glass of water, again he nodded to him, a glinting smile on his cheeks as he looked back to his glass, then back to his palm, clutching it tightly, it was all a curse, bah he thought as he clenched tighter and tighter still, a trickle of blood finding its way down his wrist as he sternly drank once more, his nails now covered in his sweet honey licked blood.

.- "Dante’. . .welcome!" She waited for him to look up at her and then she sauntered towards him.

Looking up slightly, hearing a sweet voice come from his side, his eyes now pools of despair yet his form remained rigid and stance, he only offered a small smile not caring that she knew his name but also not wanting to be bothered.

As she grew closer “Please, just be away, I wished to be left alone” he spoke again, a regimented voice falling from slightly chapped lips, as his fist shook more so, blood leaking now fully flowing down in between the veins that ran up his wrist.

Sighing softly to himself, he turned back to watch the ebbing flow of crimson fluid as it tricked a burnt path of wanton delight down his wondrous skin, making shapes and circles only beautiful to the minds eye, his eyes mimicked the death trailed march as it slowly crept down his wrist, the pain finally reaching him as he clenched even harder, the crimson flow now seeping thru every finger, running down the back of his hand and down across his wrist as he continued to watch the icy touch of a cold ones blood-

 

[StarXChyld]

He barely noticed her as she approached, which was disappointing enough, knowing that Razor was upstairs watching their every move, but when she drew closer, she saw the blood trailing down his arm. Trying desperately to control the beast within, the anger at his flagrant act of disrespect in her establishment compounded by the sight of his luscious warm vitae flowing so temptingly down his wrist, she gathered her wits. Her sultry sapphire eyes made contact with the bartender and she nodded silently dismissing him. Taking a step behind the bar, she reached under the counter and brought up a bottle of her own wyne. Reaching for two goblets that she set before Dante’, she poured, offering him a glass.

“This might suit your mood, my friend.”

Absently he took a sip, his face immediately registering disgust. Choking and sputtering, he bent over the side of his chair and retched violently.

She watched with cool disdain and waited for him to regain his composure. “Granted, I’ll admit, it’s an acquired taste.”

He reached forward to grab her throat but she was too quick for him. Capturing his hand within her grasp, she pulled it towards her lips, licking the wounds in his palm. Once the wounds had healed, she continued to lick the rivers of blood that traveled down his arm to his sleeve. His face contorted from anguish to sensual relief as his eyes locked on hers.

Once the last of his vitae was wiped clean with her expert tongue, she released his hand, letting it fall back on the bar next to his glass. He stared at her blindly as the blood-red tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes.

“Save your tears, Dante’. Come with me to the cellar. I have something to show you. Something so exquisitely beautiful, it is worthy of your tears.”

She walked around the bar, her stiletto heels echoing through the silence of the inn. Without turning to see if he was following her or not, she opened the door to the cellar and began her descent.

 

[Adapt]

Dante

-Bah, vile, he thought as spat the horrible concoction of a drink in a spray away from her, clearing his throat he shook his head as he remained silent, the cooling shifts of his oozing blood was enough to comfort him as he returned back to his seat, content with saying nothing to her, he sneered lowly and whipped his bloodied hand to take her but now in a weakened state she proved to be to fast, only missing within a millimeters length, slipping a graze against her neck, he again shook his head as he went back into is broken state, horrible pain reaching threw him, but, but he didn’t care, looking up, noticing she took his hand when he was trying to bring it back.

Sensual tensions yes, he felt her cooling tongue run rings against his tipped fingers, for a moment he locked to her, seeing her beauty, to bad these things were skin deep, after she had finished he snapped his hand back, not wanting her to touch him again, sure it felt good but that’s all, he wanted no other part of her after that, finally the pain had caught up, tears of crystal clear droplets formed before they were drowned in blood from his severe head trauma taken the night before, shaking his head, he barely heard a word she said as he looked back to the last of his water, downing it to block the taste of the horrible drink she handed him.

For a moment he thought as his head turned towards the cellar, shrugging he decided to follow her, maybe she might kill him, it would be an enjoyable relief-

 

[StarXChyld]

The groan of the stairs cried out with every step she took. She smirked silently in the darkness as she heard his footsteps following her own. She reached the lower floor, then crossed the barren room to open yet another door, descending deeper into the bowels of the inn. She heard him pause at the door but continued along, brushing the cobwebs away as she went. Then she stopped. Anguished muffled cries could be heard ahead of her in the distance as well as Dante’s footsteps on the second set of stairs behind her. She paused and waited for him to join her.

The angry red flicker of his eyes in the dark, followed by his question assured her he was intrigued. “Damn it, woman. Where are you taking me? I’ve no time for such games.”

Her ruby red lips drew up in a mocking pout and she stepped closer to him, plunking an imaginary hair from the lapel of his jacket. “Oh, do be still, Dante’. I thought you of all people would be most interested in my gallery of erotic art. No?”

Without waiting for his answer, she turned on her heel and walked down the dimly lit corridor, her ears sharply attuned to his footsteps. Would he follow or retreat?

 

[Adapt]

Ok, I am back all

-He relented for a moment and paused, he shook his head slightly and pushed back.

“I have no time for such erotic art, or any of your games as a matter of fact” he shook his head once more and pushed her away slightly, slightly in a slur from lack of feeding he stumbled up.

“No Games woman…” he spoke in a soft spoken slur, un able to even keep balance as he swayed, it had been many upon many nights since he had last fed, hunger and bloodlust were drowning him as he slid back up the stairs in a slow manner, waving back and forth in a derived hunger that left him nothing more but a husk of once his former life, his steps fell to the ground in slides as he struggled back up the stairs, in a slight hobble, he continued, in fact hurt and in pain now as he started to go thru withdraws.

“Can’t take it anymore…” he spoke again, regimented this time in a firm yet lowly voice, he shook his head as he looked up and climbed back up the stairs.

“Just…Just stay away from me” as a horrible headache took over the vastness of his body, god he needed a drink, emerging form the crypts of the basement he reached for that awful lilac that was fed to him only moments ago, he coughed but took the bottle to his lips, his pads curled in disgust as he pulled back the bottle and tilted it up, drinking down a throat full of the detestable concoction, swallowing with haste as the taste of the lilac fluids drifted about his taste buds, leaving a grotesque trail of miserable taste running rampant thru his most sensitive of taste.

“go away” he jerked with slanted lips, as he stumbled back as the hit of the foreboding after taste came to be quite pleasant as the salted lick of blood touched his tongue, he stumbled out of the darkened hall and a piecing of bright hit him.

Flinching at the sudden effects of mass wattage pounding at his eyes, he closed them with speed as his hand slipped across his wine covered lips, he panted softly as he came out into the light once more.

“Damn lights, why cant we all live in…” he paused for a moment to take a look at what he had become into, he shook his head once again.

“Damn” as he slide back into that booth, looking as the scars on his hands that were embedded because of his nails piercing, suddenly start to appear again, sighing he just sat there in a blood hungry stupor-

 

[StarXChyld]

Her cold slender hand was on the door to the gallery and she could hear the screams of pain and agony thickening in the air around her. What she didn’t hear was Dante’s footsteps. Closing her eyes, she pushed the sounds of the gallery from her mind and tried to concentrate on Dante’s whereabouts. The creaking of the staircase was an obvious clue.

Hissing in the darkness, she spit out the word, “Coward!”

Struggling to ignore the door to the gallery and the delights that lay within, she headed back to the stairs and made her way back up to the bar area. As she paused to allow her eyes to adjust, she heard Razor’s insidious voice from beyond the bar, “Lost em’, eh, Saf? Tsk, tsk. . .you must be losing your touch, luv.”

Perhaps if she had waited a second or two longer, her vision would have returned fully and she would have found her mark. Instead, she lunged across the room, grazing his shoulder and finding herself prone on her belly beside him. She felt her spine crack and splinter as he applied the full weight of his boot to her lower back. Reveling in the pain, she squirmed and twisted under him, growling viciously.

The depravity of his snigger faded as he removed himself from her back side and strolled over to the booth where the almost comatose Torrie had collapsed. Grabbing the worthless Cammie by the collar, he yanked him from the booth, calling for one of his henchmen. “Get this ugly piece of shit outta here. Stop in the Red-light district and get him a "bite" to eat, then take him back to his humble abode and let the Prince deal with him when she sees what the dear Primogen did to his staff!”

While the henchman dragged Dante out of the inn, Razor returned to Saffire’s side, where she was slowly getting to her feet. He laughed aloud at her twisted and mutilated form as he stepped behind her, pulling her shoulders back as he stuck his knee into her back. “You stupid bitch! When will you learn that I’m smarter and stronger than you and I always will be.”

He held her tightly as he applied more pressure, her spine bending and mending as it popped and groaned. Finally, he released her and she stumbled a few steps away before turning back to stare at him silently as she seethed with hatred.

He laughed evilly as he walked over to the bar, swiping his drink from the counter, “Go upstairs and get changed. You look like an abortion. There’s a lot of movement in the Cammie ranks and I think it’s time we take a little trip.”

 

[Adapt]

Dante

OOC: Ok, bring this back from a long time ago -bump-

 

[Lady_Kit]

The Spy Watches...

Ambrose lurks outside the Vixens Inn, watching the activity as his mistress the Prince commands. As vile as he finds the Malkavians & Brujahs, the Sabbat makes them look pristine by comparison. He has watched the coming and going of the depraved and deprived members of the Kindred, he'll not dignify any of them with a name, they're all animals as far as he is concerned.

He watches as Saffire leaves, following her Razor like a trained hound. He knows what the Prince suspects, that these are responsible for the death of the American. He follows them closely as they enter the dark streets, perhaps if he can find proof of their guilt he can redeem himself with Natalia.

 

[ariosto]

"Jesus Christ why didn't you take the highway. We'd be back in Manchester by now."

He didn't look at her. His lean hands caressed the leather sheathed wheel of the black Jaguar. The narrow English roads slipped like silver ribbons beneath them in the moonlight.

"She still asleep?"

Saffire looked back at the slender body of the red haired girl they'd picked up in Liverpool three hours ago.
The kid had been hysterical. Something to be expected when you see your father torn apart by monsters.
Kink and his crew had done a good job on the old man but the girl had been the real prize. Razor had found out, somehow he always found things out, before they'd done too much to her.
Kink had been real apologetic, said he'd have called Razor, told him about the kid but the gang wouldn't let him. They wanted more blood.
Razor killed him. Reached down his throat and mashed his heart to jelly. The pack had backed off tossing them the screaming kid.
Saffire had shut her up, put her to sleep while Razor played with Kink.
They left the broken Sabbat capo at the 'mercy' of his peers and slipped back into the car.
He'd angled them North out of the City into the countryside and then west towards Manchester.

"She still asleep?"
He repeated himself. There was an edge to his voice.

"Course she is...Christ I wish we were home."

"I like to drive..."
Razor's hands left the wheel and he turned to her.
Amber flashed from his shadowed eyes. His hands slipped inside her shirt and filled with the fullness of her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples, twisting them.
"..don't you?"

The car sailed like a nightmare over the country lanes towards Manchester. Never missing a turn.

 

[StarXChyld]

Saffire

She flinched under the harsh touch of his hands on her breasts. There was no sexual tension between them, only a glaring disparity of power. Razor’s power over her. Since she had first met him in the cemetery years earlier, Razor had become Regent of all the Sabbat. No one dared disobey him or usurp his authority without paying for it with their unlife. She let him have his way with her full ripe breasts and pert nipples, all the while keeping herself in tune to the rise and fall of the little one’s breath as she slept in the back seat.

The memories of her nights stowed away in her mother’s closet flooded her mind. The sensation of wanting to jump from the closet and save her mother from the awful moans she made while in the company of some strange man all came rushing back too quickly now. Firmly, she grabbed Razor’s wrist while glancing back at the sleeping child, “Razor, why not save this for when we’re alone?”

Razor studied her face in the darkened car. “You can’t be serious. Don’t tell me you’re feeling matronly, Saf. Don’t get too attached, I’ve got plans for that one.”

He pulled his wrist from her grasp and turned his attention back towards the lonely road ahead. There would be plenty of time to deal with both of them later.

Thankful for the reprieve, Saffire sat back in the leather seat and absently fingered the amulet at her neck as the night sped past her. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t push the kinship she felt towards the child away. She, too, had witnessed her parent’s violent death at the hands of the vile monsters that ultimately made her one of their own. Now she was part of pack that would crush this child’s life just as hers had been shattered. The only difference was she had been eighteen when her life ended. This child could be only eight or nine years old at best. And while she knew the old man deserved what he had gotten with Kink’s pack. . .no one attempts to rip off the Sabbat and lives to tell about it. . . this child didn’t deserve the fate that lay ahead of her.

But what could Saffire do? Razor was the Regent. He made the rules and laid down the law. Her duty as Cardinal was to follow his orders and make sure they were carried out directly and proficiently.

A icy chill passed over her and she tilted her head to see Razor’s sullen eyes penetrating the dark, watching her intently. Hoping to distract him and herself as well, she slid over in the seat and ran her hand over his chest, down to the buckle on his belt. His hand curled into a tight fist in her long hair as he pushed her head down into his lap. She welcomed the gesture knowing that, for the moment, she could keep Razor at bay.

 

[ariosto]

If there was any vestage of humanity left In Razor it was centered in the growing ache between his legs. Sometimes Saffire too would find in the act (in all it's variations) a link to something beyond the dark and violent world they existed in. But tonight it was much more visceral than that. Fear and shame. She had no desire for what he might demand. The thought of it almost made her sick.

His mouth watered as she sucked him. His hands pressed her face down onto his rigid cock...the back of her neck beckoned to him. A clear pale arch of flesh...He could slice her with his finger nails easily. They were as sharp as knives...

Headlights!

Razor slammed his hands back on the wheel as the big lorry careened by them. He'd lost his concentration...lost control.

FUCK!

"Get up!"
Saffire pulled her head away from his erection, it gleamed wetly in the moonlight.
"Get up, I said dammit."

She wiped her lips.
"What happened?"

Razor kept his eyes straight ahead. She watched as his cock went limp and he stuffed it back inside his pants.

Suddenly she felt a rage well up in her.
"What the fuck happened!...Did you wnat me to bite the goddamned thing off!"

He gestured behind him.
"Check the kid, I heard her moving."

It was silent as a tomb back there.
"She's okay...
"Hey where are we going?"
Saffire realized that Razor had turned off the southbound road to Manchester.

"We're going to my place bitch. I'm getting hungry and I don't want to play fucking games anymore."

His place! In all the time they'd been in this City, Razor had never taken her there...never.

 

[StarXChyld]

She felt the Jag swerve heavily to the right as Razor’s cock slid deeper in her throat. Although she wasn’t particularly fond of Razor, she did enjoy sucking cock. The implicit trust a man must put in a woman to allow her to hold his most vital organ in her mouth made Saffire feel in control. It was entirely up to her whether he receive pleasure or pain, torment or release. She loved sucking cock, especially Razor’s for that very reason.

Now he was yelling at her to stop and he had the control once again. She sat back in her seat, hot red tears welling in the corners of her eyes. How dare he switch roles on her, just when she had the upper hand!

A feeble attempt at gaining some dignity back made her hiss at him, "What the fuck happened!...Did you what me to bite the goddamned thing off!"

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then dabbed at the tears in her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He hadn’t. "Check the kid, I heard her moving."

Fighting back the urge to gouge his eyes out, she glanced back at the sleeping child in the back seat. “She’s okay. . .”

She turned back just in time to see Razor make an unexpected turn. “Hey. Where are we going?” All she wanted to do was get back to the Vixens Inn and disappear into her “gallery” where she could work out some of her pent-up emotions. That obviously wasn’t on the agenda tonight.

"We're going to my place bitch. I'm getting hungry and I don't want to play fucking games anymore."

Saffire sat rigid in her seat. His place? She’d never seen it in all the time they’d been in the city. She didn’t know anyone who had. She couldn’t tell if this was a reward or a punishment but knowing Razor as well as she did, she knew this wasn’t a whim.

He was up to something but she knew better than to ask anymore questions. She had grown accustomed to her face the way it was currently arranged.