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Test Subject
#576 Old 27th Jan 2010 at 2:31 AM
1. Name: Dakota Lynn Stevens

2. Age: 25

3. Willingness to be a ghoul, or embraced (if so, by what clan): Yes to both accounts, though I'd not like her ghouled forever, if that makes sense.

4. Occupation:Tabloid rag columnist

5. Short bio:
Dakota is the only child of parents Marcus and Lynn Stevens. Born and raised until after her college years in the lovely state of Dakota. Due to this, she always had to find ways to entertain herself growing up and concocted the tallest and strangest tales. Her parents were so sure she was going to be a story writer as Dakota grew up and the tales grew in imagination.
Both her parents worked, her mom was a nurse at the local hospital and her father an associate manager at the local grocery store in their small town. It seemed an unlikely match, but her father told Dakota that he knew he loved her mother when he saw her in the ER.

Dakota's life was relatively uneventful, minus the pool encounter at the age of *4, a few broken bones here and there from her wild and imaginative adventures as a child in school.

Dakota normally kept to herself during her school years, in high school she joined the photography club and the school news paper. She graduated in the twenty percentile among her classmates, which helped her just enough to choose almost any college (Minus Ivy leagues) to her liking.
In college her father suffered a heart attack and passed away. Dakota took an entire year off and remained at home with her mother, working at a local video store for minimum wage.

When the following fall came, she returned to her her pursuit in journalism, joined a University sorority, as well as a few other clubs here and there to 'beef up' her resume before graduation.
Dakota always thought with her above average grades, her social activities and motivational drive that she'd be able to work anywhere and everywhere.
Upon graduation she had two job offers.
One for a small community newspaper in Iowa and another in Los Angeles for a third rate tabloid magazine.
Neither of the two seemed ideal of where she thought she'd end up.
Dakota took the job in LA, hopeful that after a few stories, meetings with other reporters or editors that she'd find her way to a new journalism opportunity within a year. Almost 3 years later she's still working hard on finding out if someone's baby had been stolen by Alien's, which city employee is cheating on their other half and tales of the Alligator in the sewers.


6. Picture:


7. Additional info:
*Dakota is deathly afraid of standing water in lakes, pools, etc. She had a near death experience when she was 4 in her family's home when she tripped, hit her head and tumbled into the pool. She has a scar on the back of her head, which is covered by her hair.

Dakota is certain there is something going on within the city, but instead of supernatural, she thinks there are either very corrupt cops, a government cover up or sorts or even gang or mafia ties. She is always looking for the next big story and always has a camera around her neck, small notepad in her pockets and a pen for any possible new lead.

((I'm super new to this kind of text hosted site, but not new to VTM. Please bare with me as I figure out the gist of this hosted site. ))
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Original Poster
#577 Old 27th Jan 2010 at 4:21 PM
(((ooc: zombiegurl - Welcome! Always great to see new players join! Will add your character to the character list a.s.a.p.

Everyone - One week left to go!)))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Field Researcher
#578 Old 28th Jan 2010 at 11:19 AM
Default Archon DeWinter & Olivia Devereaux - Archon's mansion
#79 [Eighteenth Night]

Lord Archon DeWinter could be totally heartless, but he was not without a heart. All the things he was reluctant to show just anyone; compassion, empathy or anything that could be considered a weakness, was something he reserved for the ones closest to him. His Sire Victoria, his friend Damian and his almost daughter Olivia. Though he had high standards for them too, he would allow them to falter somewhat more than the rest of the Kindred, before passing judgement. The older, the wiser, the smaller the wiggle room. The younger, the more to learn, the bigger the understanding. However, Archon had yet to be faced with any significant error, so he could not speak of what his reaction or action would be. He could only have his principles and take it night by night. He was not above changing his mind. If their lives hanged in the balance and he could save them, then to hell with principles. Another time around, he might be the one to go through the wrong door when given a choice. In all honesty, the three of them had entered his heart, pierced though his armor. All in all, he was comfortable with it, since it seemed like good investments. Both as a Ventrue and as a man with more than a head for business.

The most innocent of all would have to be Olivia, hands down. Archon's pride and joy, like he had seen her be born, take her first steps and hear her call him "father" for the first time. None of this was in the cards, but their mutual affection was very much a reality. Olivia Devereaux had a relationship with the Ventrue Primogen that few would deem possible. He had opened up the gates and let her in with a varm embrace. Should she want to hurt him, she would stand a pretty good chance in doing so. Though since Archon knew eternity could be exactly that, he did not want to spend it alone.

He was not afraid of being alone, he never felt lonely, but someone like Olivia surley brightened up his nights. To keep your intellect intact, you needed others to interact with, to challenge you. And to hold on to some of your humanity, you needed to have kindness in your life, affection for the sake of affection.

Watching her listen to him talk about his journey abroad was amusing, she looked like she tried to imagine everything he mentioned. It occurred to him that hey had not had a chance to go on a trip together. It was unfortunate but could be remedied. Though not at the moment, since he had just been away for a few months. He would not want to give the impression that the Ventrue of Los Angeles was not important to him, especially when they were nothing but. And with the Sabbat around the corner, the Tremere playing games with the most prominent hunter of their time, they needed their Primogen more than ever. Certainly when some of them found Adrien de la Cour to be fascinating, they were in serious need of guidance. He had even had to set a young Ventrue straight, for thinking the Sabbat were not all that they were made up to be. Archon wanted to see them crushed under his heel too, but he was not a fool. The Sabbat had not stood the test of time and returned to L.A. to fail. To be arrogant and think highly of yourself and your clan was a most welcomed trait in Archon's opinion, but not when you had your head up in the clouds. To be cocky was good, to be ignorant was stupidity.

Archon smiled as he kept talking, watching his precious Ventrue friend take in every word as if she had never been abroad herself. Olivia managed to seem very gentle and kind, cool like a spring breeze, but she was just as devious as he was. Behind that beautiful face was a sharp mind and a true Ventrue heart. Of course, she was a very kind woman too, but she would not sucumb to the weakness of those that were too kind for their own good.

“I do hope so,” she said when he was finished, looking at him with a smile. “I’d hate for your efforts to be fruitless; it’d taint your excellent record thus far.”

She knew how to compliment him, indeed. He just smiled, though she needed not to worry about him and his excellent record. Archon DeWinter was an unstoppable force. He made sure to make every action count. If he did not get what he wanted, he got something else instead and was clever enough to make use of almost anything. Sometimes he ended up with nothing, but then he still got the opportunity to learn. He was not above making the wrong decision, but he had always believed that what defined a great man was especially how he carried himself when things did not go as planned.

"There is no need to worry about that", he stated with a soft smile. "I always get what I want. Even if I don't get exactly what I am after, I make sure it will still be worth it."

A great man also knew how to change his modus operandi as he went along. When the scenery changed, you had to change with it in order to always prevail. The few times he had been out of luck, there were still the chance to learn and also the possibility that he actuallt did not need what he was after, come to think of it.

"The next time I have to go away, you should come with me. If our great Prince would not mind. I know I would find your company most refreshing and I would enjoy showing you atleast a part of the world. Hopefully something you have not seen before."
Field Researcher
#579 Old 28th Jan 2010 at 12:15 PM
Default Noah & Valerian - The Haven, Valerian's chambers
#78 [Night #18]

After becoming a vampire, there were not many things for Noah to depend on. He didn't trust his Sire, he couldn't go back to his people and other Kindred to learn from were scarce. All he had in the world was himself and the growing sensation of the wild on the inside. As a Native American, he had strived to come as close to nature and the animals as possible, and now he was practically one of them. They had another interest in him when they encountered each other, they didn't shun away or attack like they had done when he was human. They simply watched him, tried to figure him out; much like Noah himself tried to do. He wanted to learn from them, but it took a while before he could even begin to understand them and make himself understood. And it took many years before he could look at his own Sire without wrath boiling inside. So Samuel would often let him go off into the woods on his own, since his soul would slow down among the animals. More out of necessity than of joy, Noah picked up knowlegde and skills from his Sire. With time, he would calm down and appreciate his teatcher, even come to like him. It was a breakthrough, a step away from some of the pain. Samuel had tried to explain the ways of the Gangrel, that it was in them to often leave their offspring in the beginning. It was not until Noah had lived as a Kindred for a long time, listening to his inner Beast, that he would start to understand what that entailed. He hadn't forgiven him, not even when he was now dead, but he had chosen to put it aside.

One cross less to bear. Though as it turned out, life without his Sire was even more unbearable. Not a relief, not closure. Just additional pain and sorrow. And his murderer was added to the list of the ones that would never be forgiven, nor forgotten. The enemies of the past, some dead, some undead. The former, that he had to leave behind, was a torment within his soul. He had wanted to slay them all, let some unspeakable horror go through their band of brothers, until none of them were left. His Sire held him back and Noah finally understood that he would bring the same pain to the innocent people they had around them, as he and his tribe had endured. Innocence had always stopped him, like a raging bull coming to a halt before a child. Noah didn't want to be like the monsters that occupied his dreams. It was not like when his tribe had fought other tribes, that was another matter entirely. Though there were innocents, it was all because of reasons Noah could understand and fight for in his right mind. Nothing in the world was either black or white, he often found himself struggeling in the grey areas.

Noah didn't know how he had survived - mentally. How his personality had challenged everything from the Sand Creek Massacre and the embrace, to the restless hunt for something more. He now realized it had always been there, just intensefied the last three years. Sitting infront of Valerian, it all became clearer.
He felt at ease. Free. Like he didn't have a care in the world, or that the problems he did have would be solved. Looking at the Toreador, he felt that his humanity was safe, that it wasn't on the verge of extinction just yet. Though he loved animals, as long as you could think as creative as a human it would only be dangerous to loose all other human traits and become one. Like compassion and regret. Adding eternal life that was hard to put out, you got a monster. Eternity could be too long for some, unlife lacking the most precious thing about life: that it can end at any time. What the Kindred fought for, atleast most of them, was their humanity. Loosing that would be to die another death, to give in to the Beast. Though it was what kept them on their toes, what made them never stop and whither. They had something to protect, something that was fresh and vulnerable.

Noah remembered when he learned about the decay of his humanity. It had been a sad day indeed, and yet another reason to hate Samuel. To him, humanity was the core of his life, and now he only saw a shell of a man reflecting on the puddles he came across. It looked like Maiyun, the man he had been since he was no longer a boy, but it was something else looking back. A man who had become a monster, forced to live a life that didn't exist. It was like he had died, but hadn't been brought back to Mother Earth yet. Like he was in some kind of land in between, waiting for his turn to be reunited with his original blood. Though the poison in his veins held him prisoner, slowly killing the human he once was. It was a slow death, one that would go on for years to come. So said Samuel. It could take hundreds of years, even thousands. It depended on how many bad deeds you did on your way to Gehenna.

Upon learning this, Noah had charged him, pushing him to the ground, dangerously near a ledge of a cliff. The words; _Do you realize what you've done?_, had been screamed at the top of his lounges in his native tounge. He couldn't believe it. One thing after another doomed him. When he though things were as bad as they could get, Samuel presented another tidbit that made Noah devastated. Or furious. Or just sad... Most of them time, that was what he was. Utterly unhappy. It made Samuel uneasy, from time to time. Most childer came around eventually, but it seemed Noah was a champion at holding on to a grudge. Hate was his forte, until he deemed it useless when it came to his Sire.

What was would be no more, what he now had was forever. Noah talked to the gods, every night since the massacre, without any luck. He had continued to do so, every single night since that fateful day on the plains. One of these immortal nights, he hoped for them to answer. To tell him that he was still in their grace.

"Noah...", Valerian said gently, after first looking a bit too serious for Noah's comprehension. "I cannot be the master of your being, or of your blood. I cannot prevent you from leaving, if that is what the call from within is urging you to do. Nor can I give a permission that isn't mine to give."

Noah's soul grew cold, word for word uttered by the enchanting Toreador. Didn't he know that a word from him could probably sooth the savage Beast within Noah? He could feel that it must be so, judging from how he felt in his presence in general. How could he convey this strong belief, how could he explain what had his heart and mind convinced? If leaving was in his blood, then Noah might not be able to fight it on his own. If his blood kicked in that gear, someone needed to snap him out of it. He knew the full on animal mode, when you stopped mid something and just did something else. You didn't reason, you just acted. No pro and con lists, no time to ponder.

"My blessing, yes, that I can give, if you are indeed Aeode's choice. And I'll give it gladly, for I do believe she would benefit more from a Sire like you, than from someone like me. Though I will of course still be there for her, should she, or you, want me to. You both have my support, regardless of what she decides to do."

There it was, that Toreador summer rain, that quenched Noah's thirst and had him brush those foolish thoughts away. Valerian did think him worthy, he did give him his blessing. And he would be there for them both. He might be able to stop Noah's raging Gangrel heart with a mere look, that was how powerful he seemed and he might do it without being aware of the fact. Noah was calm again, the fire inside started back up. How could he even think Valerian would leave him out in the cold? Nothing in his person spoke of such things, it was probably due to Noah's own fears. Finding something utterly beautiful and pure was intimidating. You didn't know if you would break it or be found unworthy to be near it. And the gods knew, if they could still see and hear him, that he wouldn't risk tainting it.

Noah closed his eyes for a few fleeting seconds, as if to take in the moment, savor the words. Whatever he had expected from this visit, he couldn't have imagined a better scenarion. Valerian was indeed a remarkable man and those where hard to come by. You could live a lifetime and meet none, or in Noah's case, live for more than 150 years and meet more than one. Though he could hardly expect such a generous treatment he had suspected as much, given Valerian's revealing kind nature.

"Without your blessing I wouldn't have done it", Noah said while opening his eyes, to underline how important it was to him. "I wouldn't have to go to the Prince to seek permission because if you didn't think me worthy, then I couldn't be. If anyone can see into the heart of a man in such a short time, it's you. I want to thank you, but there are no words to express my gratitude... I don't know what Aeode wants after the baby is born, but if she still wants me then I will embrace her. Thank you, for being so kind to me."

Regardless of his answer, of anything concering Aeode, Noah had brought with him something very special. Old, and one of a kind. He reached inside one of his pockets after a short pause and pulled out a small box made from wood. The lid had something witten on it; "Gaia".

"This once belonged to Moketavato", he said and turned his gaze to meet with Valerian's. "Black Kettle, the Chief of my tribe. He was a great leader, a wise man. Even after many of us had died he still believed in the possibility of peace. I can only hope to one day be as wise."

Indeed he did. He didn't exactly believe he could be as great as Moketavato was, but if he applied himself and tried hard, he might reach a respectable standard that even his long gone Chief would be proud of. And his family. In coming here to this city, a strange feeling sometimes came to him and left him in a huff. It was so hard to pick up, but something told him it was the spirit of his familiy, trying to tell him that all was not lost and he should slow down his raging heart. That he was a good man and nothing could change that. It was something Noah couldn't think about for too long or too hard, unless he would loose himself in ancient grief.

"I want you to have it. It was once worn by a peacemaker and it should always be in the care of a peacemaker. I know Moketavato would be pleased with my decision. You don't have to wear it, but as long as it's in your care, I believe our world will be better of."

In the eyes of the Native American Gangrel, Valerian was very much a peacemaker. He had the most delicate Toreador soul and mind, a heart that would contain the world if given the chance. He traveled through their society with ease, as far as Noah could tell. And in Aeode's situation, Valerian had saved her from certain death by going to the Prince. In doing so, he might have jeopardised himself. He had also let Noah in in his time of need, a shattered Gangrel he hardly knew. All were signs of a true and definite peacemaker. The essence of the word when someone first thought of it.

Noah opened the box and picked up a necklace made of leather, bones and stones. He held it up, from his hand along his forearm. The leather was new, or only a few years old, since it had to be replaced to not fall into pieces. The original string of leather was in the bottom of the box, Noah didn't have it in him to throw it away. The stones were turquoise and brown, pieces of heaven and earth. The Cheyenne had used that on their bows aswell, to aim more true.

"It's made of buffalo bones and the stones represent Mother Earth and the heaven that has remained the same since Moketavato wore this. There used to be feathers, but I had to bury them in the ground a long time ago."

If Valerian accepted the gift, the necklace would have finally come home, after all this time. Noah had never worn it, he had never felt worthy with all the hate that seared within him. He had merely been the caretaker, the gatekeeper. His duty was to find the one person that had the same pure heart as Moketavato. Knowing that Valerian would live forever was also a blessing, much like the one the Toreador himself had bestowed upon Noah - granting his heart access to the light again.
Alchemist
#580 Old 28th Jan 2010 at 5:41 PM
Default Connor and Moira - Moira's condo (Wrap-up)


Ah, the simple pleasure of experiencing a surprise! When someone has lived for as long as Moira has, few things in the world held anything fresh, anything truly new. An old saying goes, “History repeats itself” and Moira Sushill has witnessed it first-hand: societies evolved (or alternately, devolved) in a circular, predictable fashion, trends were simply recycled and few concepts were born that did not have their roots in an older, similar one. Sometimes, the results were unexpected and innovative, and that was a comfort among the endless monotony, but a rare one. What made the human race the most dominant species on the planet, their ability to store and pass information along to younger generations, also stripped the beauty of discovery from the life of someone who has lived long enough to remember it from the last time it happened. There were times when Moira contemplated the days of antiquity when the Roman Empire ruled and Egypt was a mighty country, something she knew of only from books and ruins, wishing she could travel back in time and experience it for herself. Instead, all she had was the future which held an unspoken dread, a shadow darker than the one already hiding the sun from her. Moira feared what she would become once her humanity was fully eroded, she feared the centuries to come.

One of the few things that still succeeded in surprising her were human beings. As a whole predictable, it was the individual who might act out of instinct, listening to their heart rather than what knowledge advised, and tapping into their souls create something unexpected, which in Moira's eyes was the very thing which symbolised humanity. The very essence of it. She only had to look at Connor to see it, whose spirit burned so brightly; regardless of how well she knew him, or the unavoidable tendency to accommodate her the Blood Bond instilled in him, he still managed to surprise her. Most were little things, a gesture here, a comment there, but Moira valued them all.

His eagerness to respond immediately to signs of affection was not among them, but welcomed nonetheless for the warmth it offered to the ancient Toreador's soul, among the many reasons Moira had kept Connor at her side. There was a pleasant comfort in having a warm, pulsating body next to her own when she wasn't feeding, which for a long time had comprised most of her human contact, so she enjoyed lavishing affection on her ghoul. In her private haven, there were no prying eyes to disapprove, no cunning Kindred minds always seeking to make use of their attachment.

Another thing she took solace in was listening to Connor tell her about his day-to-day life, and all the things she could never take part in. In that, Connor was quite unique, for not since Josephine's death had Moira found much interest in the everyday lives of mortals, but with Connor it was different. Perhaps because he was so much more than just a mortal to her, but listening to his stories was soothing, even if she couldn't relate to them in any way, not even on a deep-rooted level. Too much time had passed since her human days, and her memories of that period were centred around a cold stone castle in a medieval country torn by wars and political strife.

"They asked about you though" Connor revealed once he'd gone through the account of his reunion with his friends and family and moved on to the topic of the New Empire photoshoot, "'The girlfriend'."

Ah, yes. They would only keep asking, unfortunately, until a more permanent solution was found.

"I didn't tell them anything, of course" Connor continued and lifted Moira's hand to his lips, "No matter how much I want to brag."

A smile blossomed on her lips as she beheld him through half-lowered lids, both for his words and his caution. It was one of those things you'd almost never hear a Kindred say, as for the latter, she enjoyed having another confirmation that despite the freedom she allowed him, Connor did not abuse it. What he said next however came as a surprise however, as refreshing as it was welcome:


"I was thinking though... It might take the heat off, if I actually presented them with a girlfriend? Or rather, a psuedo-girlfriend? Someone who knows the deal, and is willing to help by posing as my partner?"


Moira hadn't chosen him just for his looks and companionship, a sharp mind with a capability for initiative resided beneath those angelic curls of his. She couldn't deny it was a valuable characteristic in a ghoul, but pleasant also because intelligent companionship was the only sort Moira enjoyed.

“I take it you have someone in mind?” she queried with a sly curvature of her lips. The idea appealed to her indeed, because the increased media interest was starting to become a nuisance, though if Connor truly knew a person who could play the part, that could only mean another ghoul. He went on to tell her about his encounter with Melody, none other than Valerian's ghoul, the charming blonde with whom he'd apparently hit it off. Moira approved the plan in theory, knowing she would be safe thanks to Melody's loyalty to Valerian, whom she wouldn't dream of upsetting by doing something foolish. Besides, it might do Connor some good, to spend some time with someone like him, and Melody was perfect in the sense that she benefited of a similar status with Valerian.

Much later, as the first rays of sunshine trickled past the horizon, dawn found ghoul and Domitor entwined among the sheets of Moira's new bed, safely tucked away behind blinded windows, both sleeping peacefully.


If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Alchemist
#581 Old 29th Jan 2010 at 5:44 PM Last edited by Ghanima Atreides : 29th Jan 2010 at 10:29 PM.
Default Aeode and Beyonca, a cafe, Aeode leaving +wrap-up




Life for Aeode these days felt very much like a series of slideshows she was a mere spectator to, people and events passing before her eyes while she remained locked behind the screen. The more she reached out, trying to pierce the barrier, the more real it became, ever heightening the feeling of having no control over what would happen next. She felt...removed from her own life, and all of her efforts to regain even the smallest bit of control seemed to mock her. Nowadays, the most mundane task had Aeode wondering why she was even bothering, when her life was doomed to change so irrevocably, so very soon, but she still did them, just to function in a world that was slowly slipping out of her hands. And, to keep herself sane.

Looking at Beyonca, Aeode had to wonder whether she knew that she knew. If she, a mortal with relatively little Kindred experience, had been able to figure it out, chances were the being before her had as well, perhaps from the very moment suspicion had began materializing on her face. She didn't like the thought, and wondered how much of her inner musings her bodylanguage betrayed. It didn't matter; she was getting out of there, already planning the most public route back to her apartment, one that would avoid deserted spots, and would ensure other people were constantly nearby. As safety measures went, it was the best she could do, and it didn't help that her place wasn't directly accessible from the main road. All of a sudden, Aeode's fingers twitched, longing to grasp her gun, which she'd been reluctant to bring to hospital. A bad decision.

Another thing about Beyonca was that she made Aeode's imminent Embrace seem even more unreal, for her wariness and doubt certainly didn't help make her peace with it. She didn't want this. She wanted to see her baby born and be a normal mother to him or her, with picnics in the park and holidays at the beach, be there on their first day of school and on graduation day and all of the things parents did with their kids. Aeode may not have known a lot about what it was like to be a vampire, but it automatically ruled out much of that; hell, she didn't even know if she'd live long enough to deliver, and if she did, there were no certainties she could even keep the child. A torrent or hate surged through her then, second only to the hate she felt towards the Sabbat, and it all focused on a single, yet faceless entity, which she pictured comfortably tucked away in some office somewhere, pulling the strings of his minions. She had to bit her lip in order to keep a grimace off her face, and did her best to avert Beyonca's eyes as she gathered her jacked and purse.

“I am so sorry,” the other woman said, also getting to her feet, ” I hadn’t realized the time. It went by very quickly. I shouldn’t have kept you for so long.”

Well, Aeode took her own responsibility for that, but yes, it was later than she'd expected, and she could only hope Noah hadn't left already. Stupid, stupid and careless!

“Here I will get this.” Beyonca continued, handing Aeode's five dollar bill back to her. “ It is to make up for keeping you so long.”

Aeode was opening her mouth to argue, but decided it wasn't worth it. It was five bucks; whatever. Beyonca was the wealthy photography studio owner around there, right? Plus, the urgency of getting home was nagging at her.

“I wish you well Annie. Be safe and take care of your young.”

Shouldering her bag and buttoning her jacket, Aeode gave her an upside glance, producing a small smile:

“You too,” she replied with a parting nod. “And thanks for the coffee.”

And with that, she was off into the night, soon to be swallowed into the sleepless city's landscape.

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Test Subject
#582 Old 31st Jan 2010 at 10:17 AM
Default Vampire Application: Rae Wickers
Clan: Toreador

Name: Rae Wickers

Age: Neonate (43 years old, been a vampire for 25)

Disciplines: Auspex level 1, Celerity level 2, Presence level 2.

Brief Bio:

Life was never an easy road for Rae. Her parents had little time for her, spending most of it either in jail or in a drug- or alcohol-induced stupor. As a result, she spent most of her early life in the company of youth street gangs, involved in numerous robberies, attacks and countless acts of vandalism. eventually, the gang was caught by the police and several members jailed. Rae, the youngest at thirteen, was aquitted and taken into care.

At school, Rae was a disaster. She was that kid who always skipped school, got the worst grades, and never spared a thought for anyone else. She dropped out at the age of sixteen, and got a job at a grocery store. Two months later, she was fired for stealing.

She spent a few weeks living on the streets, where she discovered she had a talent for singing. She was able to earn a small income singing in bars and clubs around town. Soon, Rae was able to put together a band.
Finally, something seemed to work out for Rae. They never made the charts, but she and her band were successful. They attracted a quite a bit of attention, including, unexpectedly, that of a Toreador vampire, although at the time unknown to Rae and the band. He became a regular if unusual fan at their evening concerts, meeting Rae face-to-face after the performances, and they soon drew close. However, this aroused th jealousy of another member of the band, which eventually caused them to split up.

One night,at the age of eighteen, the vampire took her out to dinner, embraced her, and left her in her hotel room.
Rae never saw him again; she couldn't track him, down, he had given her a false name. He never answered his phone, she didn't know his address, she eventually lost all hope of contacting him.

She greatly enjoys being a vampire, and finally feels as though she is worth something, a feeling which she had never experienced before.

Picture:

(see attatchments)

Additional Info:

Much of the time, Rae feels as though she would have been more suited to being a Brujah as opposed to a Toreador. However, she does enjoy belonging to an artistic and beautiful clan, and doesn't regret it.
Sometime, she would like to find the vampire who embraced her, although she realises that this would be nearly impossible now.

((always open to storylines and connections!))
Screenshots
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
Original Poster
#583 Old 1st Feb 2010 at 11:18 AM
(((ooc: TheAppleNinja - Welcome! Glad to have you. Will send you a PM in a couple of hours, with a few things worth mentioning, but for starters, we're moving on to e new night on Wednesday, so feel free to wait to put your character into play until then, or, if you'd like to start getting a feel for her by solo-posting, feel just as free to start posting before then. It's up to you.

Everyone - Just as a heads up, in case I didn't already mention it; when we move on to the next night (which despite the 6 month time jump will be labelled night #19), we'll kick it all off with two joint events, like the Ball/Club opening on Night#6. Your characters will of course not have to attend either of the two events we have planned if you don't want them to, but we figured it would give a good starting point to those who feel they might want it. )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Field Researcher
#584 Old 1st Feb 2010 at 7:14 PM
Default Beyonca going home

After Annie and Beyonca parted ways, Bee took her time going home. She knew there wasn’t much time until sunrise. Her body told her it was coming soon. Something in her was aching to get to safety. Still she took her time and enjoyed the night. A longing to be surrounded by the darkness filled her. She wished she could be somewhere that no lights would shine. Somewhere the noise of a city was no where near. Just complete silence so she could here the night. Maybe it was the vampire in her that longed it. To hear the night and the creatures that thrived in it. Deep in her she felt that was where she belonged.

The Ventrue in her wouldn’t allow it though. A dark empty place would not sit well in her mind. She knew her mind thrived on being surrounded by others even though she kept to herself. Longing for things that could never be. It was best those things stayed locked in her. She wouldn’t know how her Primogan or Prince would react to such thoughts and emotions that coursed threw her. Would they feel pity? Bee doubted it. They would just tell her to stay out of trouble and keep it from others. It wouldn’t sit well if others clans knew the thoughts that continued to haunt her. It would be degrading and highly inappropriate for a Ventrue.

A small wind teased her skin. She let her previous thought go and just enjoyed the moment. She took in the scent it brought. It wasn’t the scent of the night. It was the city. Nothing to appreciate. Just the grunginess that filled the streets. Rounding the corner she saw her home. It was big and dark. Completely empty and soundless. Not even a mouse dwelled in the place. Lonely. That is all it was. Beautiful. Everything she could possible want in a home, but lonely. This was to be the last night she would feel such things. The last night her mind and heart would hurt. She could only hope her planned worked. For her to survive it had to her. She couldn’t live much longer with these painful thoughts. Already she was thinking of her final death. There was no falling asleep and not waking up. It was pain. Every way there was to kill a vampire was painful. She hoped that it didn’t come to that. She didn’t really think many would miss her. No one was close enough to care. She would be just a memory to some or a fleeting thought to others.

Silently she went walked to her room and dressed for bed. Annie came to mind and wondered if she had made it safely home. Then Bee thought of Annie knowing of the race. It was against carmilla laws for her to know. She should be turned into the Prince if he didn’t already know. Again she wondered what the Prince would do to her. She wouldn’t think he would kill her. She was pregnant and that would be taking an innocents life. They would probably turn her. Pain stuck threw to think of such a thing. It would have to be done. She knew deep down it had to be. Even though the human in her still, screamed for no such outcome, it also knew if not she would be ghouled or killed. Neither did Bee wish upon the beautiful Annie.The Ventrue in her also screamed in protest. The only option was for her to be turned. Bee just hoped the Prince saw it that way.

Bee knew no matter the outcome. Whether she agreed or not, she would always follow the Prince and his decisions. Ventrues knew no other way. She finally fell asleep with that thought on her mind.



((ooc:Beyonca is so depressing sometimes. ))

Call me Sasha
Funny how when your a kid, you dream about your future and when you are an adult, you dream about going back to when you were a kid.
Scholar
#585 Old 2nd Feb 2010 at 5:54 AM

On the walk over from the photocopier, she thought up a fake name for herself. Jane? Katie? Nah. If she heard someone calling out any of those, she'd forget to turn around. Better to pick something that starts with the same letter at least.

"Where do you wanna go?" he said. "I know a great chinese restaurant not far from here. Or do you prefer italian?"

"Naaah," she wrinkled her nose and thought through the options. Frankly, all she wanted was a little dinner, a little company, a ride, and that was it. After that, Lola didn’t have any plans to see hot dude again—probably the better for the both of them. So, when it came to picking a spot for dinner, she needed somewhere relatively close to the address Adrien had given her but not too close. Maybe ten blocks away would do.

Sultan's fit the bill for the location. However, its biggest selling point was the sexy foreign guys serving good food, so it probably wasn't the best place to take hot dude. After a little mulling, she said finally, "How 'bout Indian instead. Have you been to Shalimar? It's pretty good."

As they cleared up their stuff, hot dude left the book on the table and commented, "How ironic. Now I have to leave it behind."

“Hmph,” she smirked without mirth as a weak acknowledgment and turned away. Story of my life.

They took his car to a parking structure near the restaurant and walked the rest of the way. When he said his name was Ben she called him a rat and said you've got a friend in me. She said her name was Liz, and she was ready with a last name of Cooper in case he asked.

A couple hours later she was cleaning up her plate with a piece of nan that she folded in half and ate. The conversation had been filled with various quips and sexual innuendo and pop culture references. It took her mind off of things, and she actually found herself enjoying it now and then despite burning wreckage that was her life. It was nice to feel normal even if she knew it was a lie and and fleeting one at that.

They left the restaurant and walked back to his car. After a couple blocks, Lola grabbed his coat at the elbow and halted. Across the street a stray dog padded down the sidewalk, scraggy and sallow with the streetlight. It sniffed out something in an alley, turned down it, and disappeared into the darkness as some black ghost of a dog. Ahead was the parking structure, and the address that Adrien had given her was nearly a mile in a different direction.

"I'm over there," she lied, motioning with her head. Her voice had the finality of a goodbye. She looked in his eyes and realized that if this were a legit date then she might've tried to kiss him, but as it was she pulled away and hugged herself tightly.

"See ya 'round, Ben." Another lie. She gave him a tired smile. "Thanks for dinner."

.:Kitty Klan:.
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Original Poster
#586 Old 2nd Feb 2010 at 6:56 PM Last edited by AtropaMandragora : 2nd Feb 2010 at 10:03 PM.
(((ooc: Alright everyone, 24 hours left until we move on. )))




Opposites. All along during his "acquaintance" with Lena, Adrien had been thinking of the two of them as being opposites, in pretty much everything. Their methods differed, their motives different, their personalities differed, their general attitudes differed, and their values differed. It had almost seemed that apart from the two of them doing roughly the same thing for a living - though even there they were different, with her getting paid and playing around, and him doing what he had to do, and as quickly as possible - most everything between them differed. She was playful and flirtatious, the born minx, whereas he was stoic and probably what some would consider an old stick-in-the-mud. She played around and seemed to at least try to have as much fun as she could, while Adrien simply did what he felt he had to do. She was outgoing and didn't hesitate to probe, whereas Adrien preferred to analyze in silence. She cut people up and got far more creative than she had to in her ventures to gain information, whereas Adrien preferred simpler and faster methods. She seemed to prefer to be overtly on top at all times, except perhaps when baiting the hook, while Adrien had learned the trick of maintaining the upper hand even when outwardly submitting to his opponent. She had lashed out when she learned what had been done to her, and even killed her Domitor, whereas Adrien was biding his time.

Indeed, they were two vastly different individuals, with very different ways of going about things. And so to say that it had never been more evident to Adrien than now, that was saying a lot. In this hotel room at the Barcelo, with Lena being something of an emotional hurricane, tearing through what seemed like the whole range of human emotions, going from anxiety to sorrow, to anticipation, to confusion, to relief, to happiness, to compassion, to frustration, happiness again, and then finally ending up plummeting back into heartwrenching sorrow again, and with Adrien just sitting there much like a statue carved in stone the entire time, with the grandest change of his facial expression being a smirk easing it's way onto his lips at one point, the two of them would indeed seem to be as different as night and day.

The irony of it all was, that in all of this, Lena wasn't being her usual self. Clearly exhausted and pushed to the brink of an emotional breakdown and beyond, she was acting very different from how she usually did, which in turn would pose Adrien with the question of whether that meant that usually, she was more like him than he'd been willing to recognize and admit before, or if this was just another but still equally strong version of her being different from him. A plus B equals C, but did that mean that A plus not B equalled not C?

Well, either way, he remained where he was, even when Lena's form crumbled by the bed in sheer, harrowing sobbing over something he wasn't quite sure that he understood, and in such a candid and unbridled display of raging emotion, that quite frankly, he was stumped for what to do. Naturally. If the first time of her eyes flooding with tears, when she'd turned away from him to keep him from seeing her cry, had made him feel awkward, it still was nothing compared to how he felt now, being a spectator of something as personal and probably humiliating as an actual emotional breakdown. He wasn't the emotional type, he didn't know how to respond to another person's fragility. Especially not when that person had hinted at wanting to be alone before breaking down, but lost control before he'd had the chance to take his leave, had he wanted to. Which, frankly, he hadn't. Lena had asked for his help, and at this point, there were still things left to cover, lest he'd risk making matters worse rather than helping them. Thus, he still remained right where he was, deciding once again to just let her ride it out without any interference or distraction from him. Again, if they were to have a rational and pragmatically oriented conversation, she needed to first purge herself of whatever feelings were likely to cloud her judgement and her sense of logic.

That did not mean, however, that he did not feel her pain. He may not fully understand it, but he did feel it. With her sobbing as though her heart was breaking, how could he not? He wasn't cold, just distanced, and after a century without much human contact, socially awkward when it came to handling people in their moments of emotional exposure. And his resolve to offer the pragmatic help that she had asked for wasn't his only reason for staying either; there was something in him that wanted to make sure she was alright, before he'd take his leave of her. Currently, she clearly wasn't, and so even if they'd been done covering what needed covering, he would have stayed. Despite not having much to offer in terms of comfort or outward compassion.

So, he simply waited, sitting silent while she wept, letting her ride out the emotional storm raging within her without trying to stop it, nor judging her for it, until after a few minutes the crying finally subsided, and she grew as silent as him as she seemed to mull over her situation.

"No-one's ever done that for me before", she said quietly, after clearing her throat, and then seemed to hesitate for just a brief moment, before moving on; "I'm sorry, this is probably really awkward for you, given... it must have been consuming...."

Awkward, to have to inform her of the freedom she had, when knowing it was one he himself could only dream of, and that he himself was firmly caught? To see her have a breakdown over it, when frankly he should probably be expecting her to be dancing with joy?
You could say that...
Though still reluctant to touch on the subject of his own situation, he left his response at a faint smirk and a dry "I'll live" - both in regards to it being awkward, as well as how 'consuming' it all had been for him - and then turned the attention back to her instead;

"If I were you, I'd be more worried about myself", he said with gravity once again in his voice. "Not for my sake - I intend to treat this matter with the same discretion as you've shown mine, and I'd suggest you do the same - but the Prince is not easily fooled, nor escaped."

Whether or not it truly worked, or she was just gracious enough to let it, he never did find out, but regardless, it sent them back onto the road of what there was to be done about her situation, with her asking Adrien for his advice as well as his possible experience regarding the lucky, unbondable few. To which he confessed to having none, other than simple rumours and hearsay. As for his advice, however, there he did have something to offer. Having spent the time of her crying contemplating the few options he saw for her, he narrowed them down to two; running, or sticking around to play her part of loyal ghoul. Both were risky ventures, but with her being unbondable, she could use that advantage to bide her time, and figure out a more permanent solution, whereas running would have the Prince trying to hunt her down. And, Adrien pointed out, Lord Alexander had the resources to keep chasing her until he wore her down.

Understandably, Lena didn't seem too thrilled about either of the options he presented her with, but she did seem as though she intended to take them into consideration, which was more than fair. The decision was hers after all; Adrien had merely offered the advice she had asked for, and if anything, he appreciated the fact that she wasn't rushing to make a decision just yet. A lot of thought needed to go into it, for her to make as sure as she could that it was the right one.

From there, Lena then shifted the topic back onto him again, but thankfully not to the aspect that he had chosen to dodge twice already, but to something that was more than reasonable for her to question; his reasons for helping her.

"Why are you helping me out?", she inquired hesitantly, having long stood from the floor, and now looking at him from a few feet away.

A reasonable question indeed, for if one looked at the facts, what reason did he have for helping her? She had tried to kill him, and in every encounter they'd had, he'd made it no secret that she was not the type of person he would usually consort with (on the few occasions that he did consort with people, that is). She'd annoyed him and tested his patience - though she herself probably didn't know it, or at least not how much, since Adrien had rarely let it show - and with her having quite a bit of critical information about him, he really should want her dead. And the fact that she'd tried to kill him would hardly make matters any better.

Of course, given that he didn't kill ghouls unless they made themselves completely impossible with him, outsiders might have assumed that what he was doing, he was doing because he felt that he had to; that with the hold that she had on him, he couldn't afford not to help her.
But, they would have been mistaken. He wasn't doing what he felt he had to do. He was doing what he felt he wanted to do. Though Adrien being Adrien, ever suspicious, he was still just a bit wary of her, and so wasn't going to state his gut instinct as his reply, but instead decided to do a little probing of his own:

"For the same reason that you have been discreet regarding my situation?", he suggested.

Just like she wasn't sure of his reasons for being here, he wasn't sure of her reasons for keeping her mouth shut about what she'd learned of him. Provided of course that it was what she was doing.

"What", she scoffed ironically in response, "you think I have far too much integrity to let me waste away?"

To that, Adrien couldn't help but to quirk a brow in slight surprise. It was a reply that wasn't quite what he had expected. He would have thought her reasons for not ratting him out to the Prince and the others - her contractor especially - would have been at least somewhat more... selfish? Although, as much as he'd been leaning towards thinking that this little lady only did things that she herself would benefit from on a personal level, he now suspected it was all mostly just a front. Not entirely, mind you, but at least partly, because over the past couple of nights, he had noted things about her behaviour that clearly didn't fit the bill of a perfectly self-centered... well... b*tch.

However, Adrien really was a tough one to crack, as far as his own inner workings went, and so despite Lena nudging the door to her own reasoning ajar, he himself evaded doing the same. Sort of. It was probably more like changing lanes, than switching roads.

"Neither of us are the type that will ever waste away", he said, knowing that she was probably as unlikely as he was, to just settle rather than go out with a bang. "We'll burn out long before that happens."

"Don't you ever feel you deserve better?", Lena questioned however, to which Adrien merely replied;

"What one deserves isn't always what one can get."

"That sounded a little too defeatist for you?"

The comment drew another smirk from Adrien's lips. Defeatist? Yes, he supposed it could seem that way, to someone who didn't share his beliefs, or understand them, someone who didn't see the Kindred nature for what it really was; the end of humanity. A road where there was no turning back, where there was only one way to go; straight to Hell. Adrien had been forced onto it against his will, and so getting what he thought he deserved - his humanity - was no longer a possibility for him.

"Didn't know I had a reputation for being the born optimist", he said with amusement for once seeping into his eyes. Though only for a moment, before he turned serious once more, to truly answer her statement: "Realistic, I call it. I've been Embraced, and there is little anyone can do about that. But now we're getting sidetracked."

The thing was, with him having given what information he had about the unbondable, as well as his advice on what he thought Lena should do, and pretty much dodging every invitation she gave for him to divulge a little more about his own situation, there wasn't all that much left to talk about, at the moment. Lena needed her time to think, and so while there might have been a great many other things they could have surely held interesting discussions about, it was time for them to go their separate ways, for now. They both sensed it. Adrien commented that it was getting late - or early, depending on how one looked at it - and Lena politely apologised for taking up his time, before approaching him and, much to his stunned surprise, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek in what he could only assume was a gesture of gratitude. But even so, it did still stun him, because even though he'd seen it coming, by the look in her eyes as she'd walked over, he still didn't know quite how to handle such things. Despite similar things having happened a few times over the past few days, with Lola and now Lena, Adrien was nowhere near getting used to it, and so still felt rather awkward and at a loss for how exactly to respond.
Thankfully, he was still in touch with his ability to hide what he was feeling, and so even though these signs of affection and/or gratitude did manage to coax a split second reaction from him, he did manage to compose himself only a moment later, and after a somewhat reserved but undoubtedly genuine "Take care", finally took his leave.


(((ooc: Sorry the ending got so rushed, but I was running out of time... :/ )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Field Researcher
#587 Old 3rd Feb 2010 at 1:00 AM
Default Phoenix Bane & Lola Dmitriev - Out in the streets
Reserving a post for Phoenix and Lola.
Scholar
#588 Old 3rd Feb 2010 at 1:03 AM
reserved

.:Kitty Klan:.
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Field Researcher
#589 Old 3rd Feb 2010 at 1:04 AM
Default Phoenix Bane & Lola Dmitriev - Out in the streets
Reserving post #2 for Phoenix and Lola.
Scholar
#590 Old 3rd Feb 2010 at 3:13 AM
Default Lena and Adrien - Hotel Barcelo

She couldn’t stop it. The hot streaks running down her face as she contorted, burying herself into the mattress, she couldn’t stop it. And it was so stupid. It was. Because it was okay now, right?
It kept playing on a loop inside her head. His fangs cutting through, excruciatingly into her neck and she just stood there, uselessly, fingernails digging into his face desperate to break through his skull and crush the fatty squelch of his brain in her grip. The viscous irony tang seeping past her defiance and into her mouth, mixing with the chyme that’d heaved out into her mouth at feel of his flesh and she involuntarily, disgustedly swallowed it back down; she wasn’t even sure which was better. Her hand in a tight grip around Christian’s wrist, the other holding the red hot knife, cutting a deep slash down his arm, callous, controlled in getting deeper and deeper into his flesh with all her rage, just wanting to see him hurt as much as she did, letting what he’d poisoned her with run to waste right before his eyes. She lost count of how many times she’d cut him. How many times she’d heated up that knife again because it’d gotten too cold.
She tortured someone. Harold? That was nothing compared to what she did that night. She tortured him because she just needed him to feel as weak, as degraded and wasteful as she did. Just a meat suit for someone’s pleasure.
And at the end of it, she felt unsatisfied.

God....
Of course she couldn’t deal with it. How do you just deal with the idea that someone abused you mentally, physically and sexually for two years and you didn’t even have the capacity to realise it? How... how does your brain compute the fact that everything you are is that cheap? You know? You think, and you act and therefore you are. Someone totally obliterates that, and... what are you? How could you let that happen to yourself? All this “oh, a fragile flower is the most beautiful” talk is rubbish; where Lexi comes from, if you can’t look out for yourself, you’re screwed. So, what are you worth? If you even think this is acceptable, what is the point of you? Nothing.
And when Lex got upset, she didn’t emo, she got dangerous.
Thus, people are thus nothing more than toys. Vampires, they’re nothing more than wads of cash and opportunities to humiliate. All everyone does is keep busy whilst waiting for death. And when Adrien and likeminded people dealt out the judgemental views, she didn’t give a damn. Fair, Alexis wouldn’t have given a damn either, but to Lena, they didn’t mean anything anyway.
We’re all going to hell, so let’s just enjoy the ride.
Nihilism. In all flavours.
It felt so frustrating and unfulfilling because it wasn’t her. Alexandria and apathy were worlds apart. But she didn’t want to deal with that, because that was Alex and if you want to keep sane, you learn not to care and detachment becomes your ally. She didn’t feel things anymore, she didn’t give a damn. Being that blasé it’s... void and plain, but it’s convenient. Isolated in every way a person could be, she slowly depersonalised, dehumanised.
About a week ago, one of the targets (Toreador, the pretentious twerp) asked how she slept at night being a “coldblooded murderous bitch” and all; peacefully. Naked, and rolling in money.
She wasn’t going to angst about it; she was a big girl, she made her bed, she could lie in it. It’s not like it matters either way.

She was wrong. She was so wrong. Because it all did mean something! Jesus Christ, it didn’t matter whether or not she was bound, it didn’t matter whether he used Disciplines; he was a bastard, of course he was going to be a bastard. It happened. You just deal with it and go on in good fashion.
Ha... she went on, she didn’t deal with it.
She spent three years wasted away on them, letting them turn her into this, and it was wrong. She shouldn’t have let go; she should have been stronger. Oh, yeah, she was gutsy as anything, but she was a coward when it came to herself. The bravest thing you can ever do is stand for what you believe in.
And she hadn’t. She’d wasted three years for them, being angry, empty, anyone. She let them win, change her into... their art. She let herself become little more than the consequence of someone else’s actions. Someone – this society’s, that bloody Irish nutcase and that pompous anachronistic fascist’s – victim and, Jesus Christ, how pathetic was that?
Just... no. No, she didn’t do this. They had no right to defile her, let alone define her.

She didn’t do this. Dear God, this was embarrassing. Her sobs had died away and as she remained still in the torrential storm of emotions that ebbed away, she realised Adrien hadn’t left. And she really, really wished he had. You don’t show weakness. She wasn’t in the habit of letting closest friends see her cry and he was... not a close friend, he was an ex-target who became a partner, sort of, but not really... she didn’t really know what he was. She didn’t even know why he was still here. She sure as hell didn’t know why he was here in the first place. Didn’t matter, because this was ridiculously embarrassing. Okay? She’d been feckless enough to land herself in this mess and then she finished it all off by acting like a three year old. Spectacular.

"No-one's ever done that for me before,” she said it before thinking it through, her soft voice far quieter than normal. Never the best move and she almost cringed again. She wasn’t going to explain herself, she didn’t have to explain herself, they so weren’t gonna talk about it. But in a way, it was more a subtle question than an explanation, but it wasn’t going to do the job, so she moved on. "I'm sorry, this is probably really awkward for you, given....”
What? Being a whipping boy? Sort of having your free will taken from you and then having to tell someone that it just flat out can’t happen to them. Having your free will being taken from you in the first place when all you had was your freedom?
The last few years for him must have been... crippling. Alexis didn’t hate vampires so much that she dedicated her life to exterminating them; she just loved her life. Christian took it away, and she punished him for it. Horribly. So... how... furious, devastated and hollowed would you feel if you hated them to begin with, and they did this to you? They have you. And they’re always there. They can do anything. How do you not get eaten alive by hate? Defiance. Pride. Funny how sins are your best friends. She wasn’t sure how to ask him about it and she ended up doing it in a pretty feeble way. “It must have been consuming...."

He evaded and she got the message.
"If I were you, I'd be more worried about myself,” he warned with seriousness lingering in the air of his words and he didn’t have to say that; she was pretty worried for herself already. "Not for my sake - I intend to treat this matter with the same discretion as you've shown mine, and I'd suggest you do the same.” Yeah. She scoffed slightly; don’t want to get vivisected, for one. “But the Prince is not easily fooled, nor escaped."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," she gave him a simple smile and looked away down at the knotted carpeting again. "I don't really know what to do. I can't stay; it'll just make it too easy for him to Summon me, but the further I get, the less informed I'll be about him. Feels like I've got myself a life sentence.” For something that really wasn’t a crime. Well, she didn’t feel any remorse over it anyway. Her eyes turned back to him, trying to hide her anxiety under a mask of calm brought on by exhaustion. "Do you have any advice?"
Wait. He wasn’t immune, he probably didn’t know about the... whatever it was back at the office. What if it grew over time or what if there was a catch or... what if it was genetic, and they managed to isolate the protein and it meant that they could spread the immunity to others? All those people, what if it’s possible to stop what was happening to them? Wasn’t it worth a try? She wasn’t sure whether he’d answer, even if he knew. After all, he’d promised her he wouldn’t tell, so he must have done the same for them. She moistened her lips in slight hesitation.
"Do you know of anyone else with this exemption?"
She felt his dark eyes scrutinise her again and she wasn’t sure what he was figuring she might do with that information. Or whether he was trying to figure out what options she had.
"I've heard only of a few, and met none,” he declared and... she chose to believe it. If he wasn’t at liberty to tell, he wouldn’t have said it like that. What if she was the only one alive with this “condition”? “And as for my advice... By not being bound to him, you have less to lose by staying, for a while, than you do by running, no?”
Oh, really? Ever heard of Disciplines? Chances are, that’s what sent me crazy the last time.
Though, fair to Adrien, he had a point; if she ran, the jig was up and Damian would know. If she stayed, at most he’d suspect.
“If you run, he will come after you, and he has the resources to keep going until he wears you down. Why not use your advantage against him? If you can convince him of your loyalty, that is.”
He’s a fascist. I’m a libertarian. It won’t end well for one of us, and thanks to Mr Murphy, it’s always me.
She couldn’t bloody well convince him of her loyalty to him; that man’s very ethos made her sick to the stomach.
“Either option is a risky game, but they are the only ones I see. And staying to bide your time until a safer way out can be constructed would seem to be the lesser evil, no?"
Well, unless I go nuts again. But I’m a pyro, so it works in my favour.
Was he fricking kidding? Mull around with Damian? Firstly, no; she’d run out of ways to tell him how awesome he was really quickly. Secondly, she didn’t respond well to authority and y’know, that’s just what he does. Thirdly, the last Domitor she had was a cruel freak. And frankly speaking, anyone who’d do this to another human being is just that. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"And take my chances with whatever he'd subject me to?" She didn’t mean it to sound so dry or snappy.

"You wanted my advice."
Yeah. Fair enough. And God, she hated it. Hated this whole damsel in distress vibe. She was supposed to be more capable. She pulled herself up off the floor.

"I guess I'm a little stumped for options anyway,” she fobbed off the sting and flexed her shoulder muscles slightly. Okay. If she was actually considering this impossible idea, she had to iron out the kinks; “What about the... you know, mind reading?”
Because really, when she walked back into the office, he was going to have someone give her the psychic servicing, right? After all, she left his surveillance team with the vapour trail and he’ll want to know why. And every time she even got close to telling him to go screw himself, he’ll do it again. And if she didn’t do as he instructed, mind rape time. He could use the Homing Pigeon trick as a long distance love letter, but sticking around close to him would mean he’d get to use the other party tricks; it’s not like he refrained the other times she’d been in his company. That man liked his powers, and he’d use them rampantly.

"Like I said, it is a risky game, which is why you'd have to play your part convincingly,” he reiterated and she sighed; hey, look, there’s a difference between risky and outright crazy. It’s not like these people get etiquette in not reading other people’s minds. Screw that, it wasn’t like she’d have rights amongst their society. It’s so uncouth. But wait... Adrien had managed, hadn’t he? How? So, it’s possible? “But the chances of buying more time to figure things out by keeping him happy, or at least making him think that you're trying to keep him happy, are greater than by running. But the decision is of course up to you."
Oh, yeah. I’ll put on my Evil Capitalist Totalitarian hat and tap dance to his tunes. It’ll be just like home again!
But he had a point. Buying time was better than spending it.

“Why are you helping me out?" She couldn’t help it. It just didn’t make sense.

“"For the same reason that you have been discreet regarding my situation?"
Yeah, Right.

"What,” she scoffed in disbelief, her voice turning to slight teasing; “You think I have far too much integrity to let me waste away?"
Come on. She was a lot of things; narcissist wasn’t one of them. Self-loathing, self-destructive angst wagon wasn’t one of them either, but she couldn’t figure out why he’d want to help her. She’d kept her mouth shut for one reason; he deserved better than to be sold down the river. She didn’t do it for a favour she could call in, she did it because he’d earned it. Most people, they really deserve to get sold out (so, she sold them out), but not him. They’ll wear him down if they knew, make him common like them.
And – frick, this sounded lame and like a twelve year old with stars in her eyes, but... – she figured people like him didn’t exist. Or got eaten by Social Darwinism.

He smiled. Sort of. She noticed the way it lightened up his handsome face a little, like breathing life into the marble sculpture he’d been before and she realised he really didn’t smile all that often. Pity. Looked nice.
But hey, she was right; it so wasn’t what he was thinking.

"Neither of us are the type that will ever waste away. We'll burn out long before that happens."
Ha. Totally didn’t answer the question. A wry smirk teased her lips. But okay... he could keep his reasons to himself... for now. Well, if she ever saw him again.
But while fading away was a slightly sad option for a mortal, and therefore going out on a high was really more her preferred method... for someone who was immortal, burning out sounded... self-obliterating.

"Don't you ever feel you deserve better?" There were probably better ways of asking that. It just kind of felt sad. When she “died”, there was this funeral, and she had friends, teachers and colleagues to attend, and parents to weep over an empty casket and all of them congregated to find different ways to say what a sad waste it was. At least they bothered to show up. Maybe for the food.
Who would do that for him? Random people he helped out in a hotel room somewhere? Oh, sure, lots of people would turn up to dance on his grave, yeah, but... to actually miss him? Did he ever have a family? Asking a dhampir about parents was probably a bad idea. How about a wife? Kids? Someone to care. Something better than this?

“What one deserves isn't always what one can get.”
Well. In her world, it’s about what you get for yourself, not what fortune chooses to grace you with.

"That sounded a little too defeatist for you?"

"Didn't know I had a reputation for being the born optimist,” he smirked and she laughed slightly; well, he wasn’t an emo cynic. That was a start. “Realistic, I call it,” he defined as the air turned solemn again. “I've been Embraced, and there is little anyone can do about that.”
But... well, yeah, not great, but... you know, it was sort of really unfair that they resigned him to this when they’re living the high social life. Okay, maybe turning him human was out, but there had to be something, right? Like getting rid of this shackling. “But now we're getting sidetracked."

They talked a little more about the state of affairs and it was pretty clear that she was screwed. Yeah. Well. What’s new? She could deal with it. She was still here. That was the most important thing. It was getting early and he had to take off unless he wanted to get fried and she figured she needed time to think about things anyway. She needed to sleep. So badly.
So, when he stood up to take his leave, she decided to see him out, apologising for sucking up his time like a Dyson. They forms grew close at the doorway and looking up into his enigmatic, verdant eyes that drew out her inner soul, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge, she realised she’d probably never see him again and she realised neither of them was breathing. Her eyes softened, her poise yielded against him and her fingertips brushed gently past the sculpted, proud angle of his jaw and the very top of his neck, spreading to faintly caress the cool smoothness of his cheek, her gaze unconsciously falling to his inviting mouth and her lips parted –
Don’t. Behave.
She tip-toed a little, her lips brushing and gently pecking atop his other cheek before pulling away – pulling herself together – with an assured smile.
And he left really quickly. For a girl who was epically used to guys leaning in to kiss her, and having to weasel out of it, it was new territory. But hey, okay. New experience.
Right. Now what?

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Scholar
#591 Old 3rd Feb 2010 at 3:16 AM Last edited by Alissa888 : 4th Feb 2010 at 1:35 AM.
Default Lena - Decisions, decisions....

‘He won’t rest until he finds you...’

Well, everyone needs a hobby.
She could give it her best shot. If he found her, he’d kill her. Or he’d hand her over to the Tremere for a good dose of vivisection; if there was a loophole in your methods of controlling people, wouldn’t you want to find why and extinguish it? Maybe she’d get lucky. Maybe she’d get away for a month, a year, or a decade. That’s a month, a year or a decade without him, being free, without any of this fear. She didn’t mind dying; we’re all dying since conception anyway. Only thing to fear was having lived in vain. She didn’t want her last thoughts to be that she didn’t accomplish much. Which... she could buy herself time to correct. In any case, it’s a month, a year or a decade of shoving his face in the fact that he didn’t win, he couldn’t have her. It didn’t matter if she only got a week. It was worth it.
She would kill him. He wasn’t going to get away with this. It didn’t matter how important and entitled he thought he was; he wasn’t and she’d ensure he learned that lesson when she killed him. But it’d take preparation. Time.
Time that she wasn’t going to have, if he got his hands on her again. Or his fangs into her. He’d probably bleed her all over the upholstery if he knew. Or not; he wouldn’t want good Italian leather ruined, would he?

So, she didn’t waste any time. She got back to the apartment, and the things she needed were already packed from the other night. Ready. It was the bare minimum and she could do with that; not really living anywhere for a few years teaches you what’s really necessary and what’s not. No sentimentalities, no luxuries, and you can pack your life into a shoulder bag. She took one last sweeping look at the apartment, the elegant decor, the expensive art, that piano she’d come to lavish her time on... the adored books. She should have thought to get them in electronic format. Still, real books had a sort of magic.
Nevermind.
Plush fur swept against her ankles with a plaintive mew echoing from her feet, big, pale blue eyes imploring up at her. Why the hell did she get this cat? She couldn’t afford to play normal, she knew that. Besides, it’s just an animal; she read papers with cats being experimented on, hell, she’d done experiments on similar animals. She’d killed bigger things. It’s just a cat; it wasn’t exactly incredibly advanced.
For God’s sake. She set her jaw. You don’t get attached to anything. It’s better that way, and Jesus, this was a lot harder than it used to be. Fine. She knelt down, to pick him up, his small face nuzzling warmly into her hands before he was lifted into the air, momentarily held close against her form.
Fine. The moment he got to be troublesome, she’d so ditch him at the cat house. Definitely, yeah.

Time to go. She walked out of the building, hitched a ride, got far enough away to get an anonymous cab – can’t be too careful – and dropped off near the coach station and then proceeded on foot to the station. She was staring at the listings, going far and wide across the country. She’d stay in America until she got a few things sorted; she wasn’t bound to him, she could fight the summon call as long as she wasn’t too close. So, choices.... she just asked the guy whose attentions she already had to pick a number from one to twenty, and went with that. Baltimore, then.
Few minutes later, she had her ticket, and waited for the boarding by the terminal. Her eyes vacantly stared at the night sky and it’s secrecy, realising that Damian hadn’t Summoned her. It wasn’t close to dawn yet, but she’d just disappeared and if he had any doubts that she would be returning, he’d have called already before she went too far. Oh, yeah, she’d be sure to believe he was a patient man and all, but he wouldn’t be interested in playing global hide and seek with her. Your horse runs away, you go get it back, you don’t sit around waiting, do you?

Jesus. Was this what it was going to be like? Just always waiting, hoping she was strong enough and good enough each time until she finished him off? And who knew when that’d be? ‘Cause she wouldn’t make some dowdy half-assed attempt at it; she had no desire to die on Damian’s account. He wasn’t worth her life. But until then, she couldn’t afford to live, even as scantily as before. She’d have to stay as an addict, because that’s only way to survive well in this world and she’d have to, to remain well informed and connected. Then there was the Sabbat.
You can run, but you can’t hide, right? Damian would wear her down. They all would.
She couldn’t hide from what she wanted. It wasn’t just Damian she wanted to burn, it was Sabin and the rest too. It was all of them, for this despicable society that they cooked up and justified. What? So, she was unbondable. So, immediately, she had to make peace with all that they did, right?

“No, I’m fine, the cab was late,” she heard a female voice cut through her thoughts and she turned around, her pale green eyes clasping onto the visage of a young woman – late teens, early twenties, dressed in that signature “I have so much work to do that I can’t be bothered to co-ordinate my attire well” chic of flat boots with stone washed jeans tucked in, flannel shirt and a short jacket, all finished off with a satchel hanging off across her torso, an Economics and Management textbook tucked under her left arm, bright red locks in tight curls around her shoulders – clearly frustrated in her conversation with her mobile. “The next bus out is in about two hours.”

Alex used to go home during term sometimes. It was only two hours away. Direct coach, get the tube once in London – though, the underground is bitch to use on the weekends – and use the buses to get home. Student budget; can’t afford cabs. For someone who spent the majority of her life being princessy, getting driven around, she got pretty proficient with the public transport system; given the state of affairs, that was saying something. One time, Daddy decided to drop her off at the coach station; it’d gotten late, and she’d get back to uni very late and she seen his eyes widen at the minicab rape awareness posters. He spent a good half an hour chastising her for her time keeping skills, preaching safety, and the importance of ensuring that it was a licensed cab, Alex had just teased, saying that the licensed ones were more expensive and never let her smoke cannabis in them. Dad was not amused. He drove her back to uni himself. Quietest journey ever.
Her lips curled slightly upwards in nostalgic amusement.
She’d spent upwards of £1000 on that travelling; a lot for a student. Didn’t matter; yeah, they all had a propensity to get on each other’s nerves often, but they were worth it.
It was okay; she wasn’t dependent on them, they couldn’t control her, and so she loved them a lot more. Rather, she was more accepting, demonstrative of the fact that she loved them – they weren’t a threat to her personal liberty. Because she had her own life, her future.
What now? What was she going to do? Spend her days hiding from Damian until she was ready to take him out? If ever? Could she really settle for being that banal?

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m not missing classes,” the girl affirmed down the phone, rolling her eyes slightly, Alex’s slight laugh catching her attention, and the brunette looked away swiftly following a warm, yet uninterested smile. “...Finals aren’t for a few months still.”

She wanted to be a criminal psychologist, and she knew she’d have moved on to British Intel or even Interpol; ambition and all. The primary reason was that she’d be good at it, enjoyed it, thought it’d be fun; the prospect of being very successful in her career was naturally appealing. The second reason was that she felt incredibly passionate about its aims. “Idealistic” would be the word, but it left an aftertaste of “naive” and “deluded” that wasn’t very fitting. Alexis was worldly; knowing how to manipulate people meant you knew their true desires and so, you see them for what they are. Disillusioned. She’d lost her rosy-hued vision at a raw age and hey, she was all the better for it. So, she knew; people are only as good as they’re made or allowed to be. Turn that on its head, and people are as iniquitous as they need to be.

You know there are people who whine, emo, and angst about it until the cows come home, but at the end of the day, they’re nothing different – they can’t begin to lift their little fingers to change things.
Honestly speaking, Alexis was no different for a while; she used and abused people because she knew they’d do it if roles were reversed. What did change was the realisation that just because society didn’t work, didn’t mean it couldn’t be improved. Significantly. Mob mentality, banality of evil, Milgram’s thesis aside, let’s say that, 25% are vile monsters, the other 75% play the remainder of the spectrum, right? So, when they go off the deep end, the environmental effects pushed them, did they not? Look at gangs; the majority are there not because they want to mug grannies and commit armed robbery, it’s because they think they must. There’s a reason why normal people in war torn countries become dehumanised, why that culture persists; because it’s all about desperation and survival. In those times, we’re little more than animals.
What people needed was a chance. No harm in trying, right?
So, if you were to reform society, wasn’t the rational first move to make conditions better? Isn’t stopping the people who are worsening things the pre-emptive strike? After all, they set the precedent that others follow. It wasn’t the be all and end all of things, because there were a lot of political and social measures to be implemented, but if everyone got a move on, something could be done and someday, it might actually be potent enough to make a difference. Or you could sit around and keep complaining and ensure we get nowhere.
Idealism or rationality or ingénue (because total nihilism and apathy is just so much cooler), it’s what she wanted to do. Because frankly, life was good, and she was happy.
How did she get this far removed from herself?
What now?
She wasn’t going to get to have that career, that life, any of it – she had to lie low, or Damian or Sabin or whoever else took a shovel in digging her grave would find her. If it was Damian, game over. If it was the Sabbat... wasn’t going to happen.
You can run as far and fast as you want. You can run away. But you’re always running to something, right? What was it going to be here?
Nothing really worth it. She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t be that... directionless. And devoting all of her to taking Damian out – she deserved better than to let hate of him consume her. She’d come as far as to realise the futility of her repression; she didn’t want hate to be everything she felt.

Her melancholic, thoughtful eyes wandered back to the redheaded girl again as her conversation continued and she wondered how much she’d give to make a deal with God, to get him to swap their places. Okay. Maybe not a straight swap, because she didn’t want anyone to suffer this, but... how much would she give to be that girl? To be nineteen again, waiting for the coach, sneaking in as much work as you can get done during the journey. And it wasn’t like Alex was some idiot or sitting duck who couldn’t think for herself; she figured it out, didn’t she? That’s why he wiped her memories, because she knew herself, and she wouldn’t have taken it well. If only someone – anyone – had just told her... she knew she’d have gotten herself out better. But they didn’t and so she didn’t do anything until it was too late. And here we are.
So, what if Gingerlocks over there did swap shoes? What if she was standing here, going “Why didn’t my rights, I matter? Why is it okay to do this to me?”, what do you say? Frankly, you say “Tough luck – you snooze, you lose” and that’s fine, ‘cause if you don’t stick up for yourself, no-one else will. Alexis owed her nothing, so fair play.
Except, the saddest thing is probably the fact that she wouldn’t ask that question. She wouldn’t even know what was happening, wouldn’t get the gravity of it. She’d never think to assert her own basic rights. No-one will.

That aside, who the hell sanctioned his shadow government? What the hell gives him – Damian, any of the high and mighty lords of this... vampiric kingdom or whatever they call it – the right to pick and choose who lives and who dies for his fascist society? How the hell can he even justify having jurisdiction over the human population when he strips them of not only rights, but their very essence and demonstrates no real understanding of it?
And she was just going to leave...? Just gonna run away, accept it, ‘cause that’s just the way things work, right?
She nibbled on her bottom lip, torn between paths and in between choosing the right thing and the most logical thing. Logical thing to do was to walk away. Just let it go; just a human, you know, powerless and futile. Damian’s the only threat, and once he was gone... she could just go drink sangria on a beach somewhere for the rest of her life.
That sounds like a great plan.

No. She’d get incredibly bored; she needed adventure, accomplishment, needed a drive, and just.... Can’t. She’d never be able to face herself in the mirror again. At Damian’s side, she was in an opportune position to do something about this – because it wasn’t just about her and Damian, or her and Christian, or her and Sabin; it happened to everyone and it shouldn’t, they had no right. She couldn’t walk away not doing anything – anything at all – to stop it; she wouldn’t be party to an evil of inaction. That just wasn’t her and she was finally getting the importance of seeing that.
Apprehension sank in with the enormity of it. This was stupid; this wasn’t going up against politicians or a proposition... it was huge. And come on, she was twenty three, that’s like a fraction of their age. She was immune to the blood bond, but their powers still worked, right? And she was one person. Okay. There were two main reason why she was a good assassin; a) she was smart, and b) you take one look at Alexis Ashcroft and “physical threat” is never the first thing that jumps to mind. Here’s proof; everyone wanted to eat her, how many animals do you know that singlehandedly attack a bigger predator? (Microscopic organisms and parasites don’t count!)

Think it through, Lexi. Properly.
Okay. She was twenty-three; she was young, of course they’d think she was stupid and inexperienced and to an extent, she probably just was. She’d just have to sharpen her claws, even more. Their powers worked... which ones were most threatening to this; Auspex, Dominate and Presence. Most in the city would think twice about messing around with the Prince’s ghoul, right? Mind reading; train think in Thai, or splice languages. What are the chances that there’s a vampire that’d read her mind and still be able to speak Thai, and Hebrew? And eh... method acting? Mind rape; don’t give them reason, not like that’ll stop them anyway, because insidious freaks don’t need an excuse, so... just get better at dealing with it? As for being just one person... she wasn’t. There were others, and they just thought they were alone. This needed organisation, and they needed to figure out how the immunity worked. First, you neutralise the threat.
Something could be done. Well, at the very least, it was worth a try.
I’m so gonna get myself killed. Great life plan.

The gate opened and people moved through to board the coach and she stared. This wasn’t something she could change her mind about. You commit to something, you see it through. Or run now.
She shifted uncertainly, a scoff of a laugh venturing out as she made her choice; well, apparently people never do change.
You either waste away, or you go out with a bang. Well, Adrien was right. And she wouldn’t let Damian wear her down.
She moved forwards to Gingerlocks, sliding the ticket atop the book she held against her abdomen, barely registering the sight of her dark eyes widening slightly before she walked away.
“Hey, wait... Thanks!” the voice called out behind her and Alexis just disappeared into the crowd.

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
Original Poster
#592 Old 3rd Feb 2010 at 8:15 PM
.



Okay everyone, the time has come. This roleplay has now officially moved to a new location; http://vtmbloodlinesrpg.proboards.com/index.cgi!
All those who might happen across this thread in the future, interested in joining the roleplay, feel free to follow us there!
(But please, do stick around this forum as well; there's plenty of fun to be had in the remaining roleplays here!)



.

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Test Subject
#593 Old 23rd Jun 2010 at 5:30 PM
1. What clan you belong to:Ventrue

2. Name:Anallia Onyx Fiuranci

3. Age:17
-Neonate: Just Embraced vampires.
4. Disciplines: level 9

5. Short bio:The day after she was born her parents were gone.The windows were smashed and door broken down shards of glass on the ground as she suprising got up only one day old and started to walk.She went over to a mirror and looked at herself,'' Has it been far to long than i seem to rember?" Because she look like she was at least 8 1/2! She looked out side and saw school was starting so she ran out barefoot in the snow wearing a tattered brown dress.She went to school for years suprisingly needin't nothing to eat.(years later) On her first day of senior year a supposed "magician" came.He had dark slicked back hair and was wearing a red cape.Finnally on his last lame trick he asked Anaillia to come up.He counted to three then the whole auditorium went black in a giant cloud of smoke.


A few seconds later it was gone and the magician was gone too but up in the front where he was, was Anaillia laying (looking dead) on the ground with two bloody holes on her neck.

6. Picture: http://www.graphicsdb.com/data/medi...k_emo_fairy.jpg (link)

7. Additional info:eyes change color depending to mood (mad : red, Blueish gray:sad,gold: calm,Purple:in love,pinkexcited,Rainbow:anxious)
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
Original Poster
#594 Old 23rd Jun 2010 at 6:49 PM Last edited by AtropaMandragora : 23rd Jun 2010 at 10:21 PM.
harrypotter917 - As stated by the post above yours, this roleplay has moved to a new location, and is no longer running on this board. However, you are certainly more than welcome to join us on the new one. The link is posted in the announcement above.

However, I do have to say that while we always welcome creativity, and while the RP itself is somewhat fantasy themed, your character's bio is far too extreme. We don't have magicians, people's whose eyes change color that drastically depending on their mood, and one day old babies able to walk. The setting of the roleplay is fairly realistic, with the only exception being the existence of vampires. The laws of nature and physics and biology still apply to the human race, vampires' eyes don't generally change color, unless certain circumstances apply, and they're never pink and purple or rainbow. Furthermore, even if there had been a level 9 of Disciplines, which there is not, a Neonate would have never achieved it. And what's even more, is that an embrace would have never happened that public, with that many traces left of foul play.
I really would suggest reading up a little on the info provided in this thread, and on the other board. There's just far, far too much childhood fairytale/horror story about your character's bio.

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
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