Old July 28, 2011, 01:27 PM   #1 (permalink)
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Hot Summer Night [Private]

The Month of Ioannes in the
Season of Summer, PF XVIII

The twin moons swirled soft silvers and golds across the waters that lapped sweetly, quietly against the shore. The island that contained his sister's home was awash in the beauty of the darkening, deep midnight blues and purples that deepened splashes of green into forest hues and muted the usually brilliant beige of the sand. The Trelorean elf noted little of this, however, as he moved with easy grace along the sand, his arm extended to shelter his companion against stumbles and slips on the narrow strip of beach. His attention was solely for the bit of flesh that clasped her hands along his beltline, laughing as her foot rolled over an uneven patch of sand, her chestnut hair wisping about her, snagged by the wind. She had the heavy scent of wine clinging to her breath and her clothing and she was fair warm to the touch, flushed red with the stuff. His senses were alive with the presence of her, the way she moved, the way she touched and grabbed, the way she laughed and shamelessly uttered her wicked thoughts into his ears.

"Why not here, elkystiki? I am tired of walking." The pair of them stumbled to a halt and he clasped at her waist to prevent them from falling over--her intention, he supposed--his grasp strong and firm. It made her gasp as she wriggled up against him, arms slinging about his neck as she bent herself lewdly.

Etienne chuckled, nuzzling his mouth against her cheek. He had no idea what her name was, although he recalled that she had told it to him. What had it started with? An 'I'? Ioulia? Iezabel? He let the name slip away from him, surrendering it into the darkness of forgotten memories. It didn't matter. Like the name, she would be little more than a memory for him once he'd gotten what he wished. He let her kiss him, returning it with what he supposed was the sort of clumsy, heartfelt ardor humans desired in their associations, one with the other. In the back of his skull, he could hear the faint whine of another voice pressing against his mind, desperate to interact, to feel, to do. But she could wait. Estée had already enjoyed her fun. Tonight, it was his turn.

…It lasted all of a few moments, a few heartbeats--one, two…three…and then the heartbeats and slowed and he stopped counting. He supposed the woman might have been disappointed with the way her evening had so abruptly ended, if he could bring himself to care. He shifted away from her, cradling her waist with one hand, clasping the back of her neck with the other. He smiled as he met the blank look in her dark brown eyes, her lips still parted. Her expression was dazed, surprised. He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Merci, mademoiselle. My compliments to you."

He released her and she fell, sprawling in the sand like a ragdoll suddenly deprived of all support. He peered down at her, stepping back as her neck rolled onto his shoes, the blood that had begun to clot there threatening to stain the fabric. "You will forgive me, non? I just had these cleaned, cherie." He observed her from this aerial view, adjusting the fabric of his navy blue tunic, brushing away stray bits of sand that she had somehow managed to lace into the fabric. She had been pretty, he supposed, in the way that humans could be pretty. She had, however, been tasty. And filling.

You shouldn't have killed her. Poor thing, what had she ever done to you?

What else could he have done? She'd have told everyone about him and then we'd be gone, just the same, if they caught him.

I would have done a neater job of it.

Have you ever considered pig's blood? Or perhaps cow?

The voices rolled around inside his head and Etienne's eyes narrowed slightly, endeavoring to ignore the clatter. He could feel them jostling, seething, pushing for position. It was easy enough to ignore Eirenaios and Edhelwen, but it was Estée that clamored close to the surface, desperate and wanting. Of them all, she was the strongest. I am Etienne, Etienne, Etienne, he chanted to himself, but this turned into a song that he hummed lightly under his breath as he stepped around the young woman--this Iezabel or Ioulia. It was true that, perhaps, he ought not to have killed her, but taken just a little of her blood and left her dazed in some alley. He should not have brought her home. But he had been hungry--still was…and fair desperate for it; the kill always brought it out in him, that deep drive and ecstasy for more.

And now he had to be rid of her.

Now a husk of a body, it was easy enough to swing her up into his arms. The blood was clotting along the curve of her neck, no longer a worry to his precious clothing, but he held her in such a fashion that it was turned away from him--just in case. It would be a simple matter to take the boat out and drop her overboard halfway.

"Come along, cherie. How about a moonlit row on the ocean to polish the darkening off with?" He hoisted her and stepped lightly across the sands to the docks, swaying slightly as he sung under his breath.
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Old July 29, 2011, 01:25 PM   #2 (permalink)
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Etienne peered down into the depths of the ocean, watching as the woman's hair swirled and disappeared, her body consigned to the darkness. There was a disconnect present between himself and the body. He could no longer remember the might-be name that he had struggled, briefly and without much interest, to recall. Now her face would be quick to slip away with the name, engulfed in darkness of forgetting. She had meant nothing to him, just another human flea among many, her sole purpose but to keep him fed. "Au revoir, cherie." His lips pressed briefly against the flat tips of his fingers and he blew her a kiss in farewell.

There was a faint rumble through his body as he readjusted his seated position, fully intending to return back to the household he had left behind him, retiring for the evening. Hunger niggled at him like a gnat buzzing about his ear. He lacked a physical need to fill his stomach; his stomach was already full, heavy with the woman's blood. It was a sensation that slid over his skin, sent a tingle all the way through to the very tips of his teeth. His tongue recalled the wonderful awareness of the blood as it saturated his taste buds, like a tang of whiskey and just as potent. There was a thrill to be remembered, the way he felt, encased in ecstasy as teeth penetrated flesh.

A low rumble of noise escaped his throat, followed just as quickly by chuckle as he realized the movement of his body. He had begun, quite without thinking, heading back in the direction of the city, his shoulders and arms pulling the boat along with rough, quick thrusts of the oars. His body already knew what it wanted more of that darkening and it didn't include curling up in the comfort of his sister's quiet, detached household.

It might do you some good, to stay at home for a change.

"Ah, but then what opportunities would you have to lecture me, mon ami?" Etienne smiled into the darkness.

Oh, right. I forget sometimes how absolutely selfless you are, thinking of me.

Us. Thinking of us you mean.

There was a small lurch in his stomach as shifts happened within his head. The smile wavered some, the discomfort quite distinct. There was a sharp push as Estée wriggled in his skull, clawing for supremacy. He sucked in his breath and held it, gritting his teeth as he bent to the physical task of transporting them. This was nothing to him, barely worth sweating over, and he moved with ease. Almost there. "I am sure he did not mean to forget you, cherie. Who could forget such as you?"

Was she preening in his skull? Could a bodiless voice preen?

She can if she's no longer bodiless, was the grumbling reply and another sharp nudge jarred his senses.

He could feel it, that faint haze of agitation sinking it, fueled by that sharp need to grab someone by the neck and dig in with his teeth. It left him hanging a little closer to the precipice of losing his sense of self than he truly desired. Control, that was what he needed. Control. She knew it. They all knew it.
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Old August 2, 2011, 02:41 PM   #3 (permalink)
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The waters were relatively still and calm, with only the occasional gentle summer breeze sending mild waves to rock the rickety boat in a sleepy lullaby as the Quel'anthasan attempt to steer it towards the coast. A fine weather it was, a good darkening, the skies were clear and cloudless, the numerous stars twinkled up ahead, a pale reminder of elvish mortality and in almost mocking irony of the elf below, they were sadly dimmed and lackluster, overshadowed by a moon so full and bright, it dispelled the darkness as its reflection glimmered over the Eunesian sea.

The tranquility of the ocean offered no resistance to the elf's effort with the oars as the boat neared the shores. In the distant he could see the numerous flickering lights dotting a shadowed landscape, pretty like the stars, only artificial. Some were even alive, dancing like fireflies, as they moved in erratic fashion to the sounds of drumbeats echoing in the distance. More sound of merrymaking could be heard above the din of ambience, of laughter, squeals and song. Apparently he had drifted towards the shores of the Neos, although most other parts of the coasts were frankly no different, with perhaps the difference in intensity. The Neos was the focal point of the hedonist, mainly from the mainland, something the Quel'anthasan would be familiar with now having resided upon the Red Isle for quite some time now.

The boat arrived at last, greeted by a bump that sent the elf lurching forward slightly as the keel scraped upon sand. He had landed in a bit more secluded area, not directly at the main beach where the large crowd was congregating to contribute to the summer heat. It was darker here. Any torches or lanterns if they were any had long been extinguished, perhaps deliberately, and the place would have been encased in complete darkness if it wasn't for the moon.

He would soon find out why.

The moment the elf stepped out of the boat he was assaulted with the obscene sounds of moans and groans. Directly before him, withering on the sand were the silhouette of bodies, their limbs intertwining like vines, locked together with such deep passion that they hardly even realized the presence of a boat and that of the newcomer. The naked bodies belonged to that of a man, a boy, and a woman. A Secyclid, a mainlander and an Eunesian respectively, as the elf could judge on further inspection, despite their features contorted in pleasure. Their clothes were strewn all over the sand. In fact, Etienne would find that he was stepping on one right now; A pink floral sarong, undoubtedly the woman's. And it was she who finally stirred from her wondrous lust, the first to take notice of the elf.

"Oh?" she gasped in surprise, although given her earlier sounds, it probably didn't come of any different. The two males did not seem to notice the so called change, and continued with their duty eagerly. She however, seemed momentarily distracted as she stared at Etienne. A pretty little thing, as pretty as humans can be, her wide oval eyes locked on to the elf's, fearful at first but eventually giving way to desire, and he would sense he was being invited to join them, even if no verbal invitation was issued. At least, only she was inviting him. The males were still unaware, but then again, given the reputation of the men of Secyclion, and what the summer heat brought to the shores of the Red Isle, there was a very high chance they would not at all... mind.
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Old August 11, 2011, 12:15 PM   #4 (permalink)
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So much…noise. It twined around the Trelorean in manners that agitated and soothed. It was loud, always so loud. There was no escaping from his heightened senses, from the din that scratched around the surface of his life. At times it was an annoyance. There was always so much of it, wanting to be let in, demanding to be heard and grasped. …And yet he would have traded it for nothing. Forever. Never. These were words that had spoken to him since his rebirth (if you will). He felt like a god among mortals, striding among them…snuffing them out as the fancy took him…or not and simply going his own way, reveling in what he could have done, but had refrained from actually doing.

He felt a sort of boyish giddiness as he stepped out onto the docks and let the noise of the city furl around him. So many of them, heady with celebration and cheer, ripe for the picking. He hummed to himself as he stepped along the dock, then stopped abruptly as noise overrode his own sweet tune, his own sound and movement choking off as his neck swiveled, allowing him a wonderful view of bare limbs, hot with pleasure and the sticky heat of the evening. Something coiled in the depths of his stomach as his eyes locked with those of the woman. His lips curled upward. She wasn't altogether very pretty--what human was--but he could not take his eyes off the skin that ground together, sliding and slipping, begging to be handled.

And so he turned towards them, drawn in, the features of his angled face clearly etched with fascination, a sort of yearning that was at once heightened with desire. Stepping lightly, easily, he closed the distance between them. "Cheri, how naughty do you look," he clucked at her and fingers reached out to trail along the curve of her cheek, trace the shape of her mouth.

But when his other hand shot out, it was to twine amid the hair of one of the men, to jerk him upward with a sharpness and a swiftness that Etienne's arm itself twisted as he dragged the man away. His other hand snagged at the woman's neck, clasping tightly. He did not seek to expend his strength too quickly, but he kept a firm hold on both, one tight, the other twisting still. "Tsktsk," he crooned at her. There was the other male to consider, but for the time being Etienne ignored him. "Why so greedy, cheri?"

Then he released her, interested in one thing and one thing only--it called to him, as if he could hear the thump of it, the rush of it--and swiftly bit down on the closest bit of flesh that the man he had taken hold of had to offer him.

oocYou can say he wasn't successful in grabbing hold of them and holding long enough, if you feel inclined to do so :)
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Old August 19, 2011, 10:20 AM   #5 (permalink)
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"Eh... you?" the nearest male immediately responded as Etienne made his presence fully known when he reached down to address the female. He was the boy, the youngest of the lot, a mainlander which judging from his accent was most probably from the region of Prime. His breath stank of alcohol and tobacco, and he had a bleary, distanced look in his eyes, looking like he had trouble focusing despite being aware of what was happening.

Without a doubt, he was one of those foolish youngins, the ones that lied to their wealthy parents about going abroad to study in those prestigious Eunesian academias, only to actually bunch up with their equally over-pampered compatriots to the shores of Secyclion and waste away in the taverns every darkening, partying too hard, experimenting with numerous substances, and generally ending up being taken advantage off from other men, or the occasional women, or worse, used and abused before being dumped in some backstreet... or into the ocean. In Secyclion, there was no gender discrimination towards this kind of things, boys were as equally in danger as girls.

There was a good chance in his un-sober stupidity the boy did not even realize his current predicament, especially when Etienne made a grab for him, pulling his thick long hair, and forcing him upwards and detaching him from both the woman and the man. He squealed and flailed his thin limbs around, before grasping at the fingers that held him, but there was no strength in the boy's grip.

"Who you!? What you doing!?" bellowed the older man, a Secyclid with a handsome face and a well sculptured body, typical of the natives. And typically too he spoke with a thick accent, with an obvious lacking of proficiency in the Common language. He looked annoyed, angry at having his pleasure disrupted in a rather rude manner by the elf, and had quickly got to his feet, his posture indicating hostility as well as martial training, his strong muscles rippling in the moonlight.

Meanwhile the girl was so shock by the Quel'anthasan's doing that she became paralyzed, unable to scream or move. That was until he tossed her back onto the sand and sank his teeth into the helpless boy's neck...

The warm fluid that contained the essence of life flowed out swiftly from the punctured wound, into his mouth as well as spilling forth from its corners, making the boy's already sweaty body slicker with its crimson color. It was headily delicious, even more so than the woman he had taken his fill from earlier. Perhaps whatever substance the boy had took was still in his blood and seemed to have affected the taste somewhat.

... the naked girl watched in horror at the gory sight that Etienne had forced upon her. But then her instinct finally kicked in, freeing her from these invisible chains, and the first thing she did... was scream, scream at the top of her lungs, screamed so loudly, it pierced through the air like a sharp knife, drowning out all other sounds; the music in the distance, the sound of splashing waves and singing crickets, the groans of the dying boy...

The Secyclid however seem to actually recognized what Etienne was. His dark eyes widened in horror and realization, and immediately he did the smartest thing to do; run. Run into the direction where the main crowd was, his powerful leg muscles sprinting him across the sand while he hollered in Eunesian what one could interpret as "Help! Help!".

Looks like things were going to get messy. Especially if the crowd heed the terrified man's call for 'reinforcements', assuming the woman's loud screaming hadn't alerted them already.
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Old August 28, 2011, 09:35 AM   #6 (permalink)
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Warmth flowed through him, delicious, sweet, heady. In those precious short moments that it took to make a body a mere husk, that youth's body was the focus of Etienne's universe. The screams that rang through the air, clarion bells, the demanding rebuffs of the elder man that had been entwined…they were a faded jostle of noises that teased at the outside of his senses. His fingers slid down the length of the youth's face as he savored, his others still entwined in hair, his grasp tight and hard.

When he released the boy, his features were those of someone deeply satisfied. For a moment, just a moment, he sat there in his reverence of the nectar that tore through him. He could have sat like that longer, if his senses, keen as they were, did not jar so harshly as the woman's vocal chords finally broke through the feeding haze that had fallen over him. His head swiveled around towards the woman, cataloguing that she was merely one entity, not two.

There should have been two.

And she should not have been screaming.

The deaths, his meals, had stirred the pot of Etienne's emotions. Normally so flat, not much by way of even existing, his emotions ripened with annoyance as the the screams pummeled him. She was not doing this correctly. Not in the slightest. And the other. Where had he gone? Running. Etienne sneered at the woman and lunged rather abruptly, a fist smashing forward to bat at her face. Surely, such a stationary target could not be missed, no matter that the Trelorean was not given to condescending to physical activities himself.

Regardless of that success, the Trelorean bolted to his feet, head spinning about in the direction of the fleeing footsteps. Run, run, run. Normally quite cautious, the feeding had torn down those walls. Reckless. He would have scorned another, had he seen them acting the way Etienne was comporting himself. Nonetheless, it was the rush of energy, that renewed sense of vitality spinning through him, that convinced the Reverent, not long in this world of vampires, that he would have no trouble. He was reverent. He was strong. Fast. What danger did some silly little human offer?

Nothing.

So, perhaps not in the most infinite of wisdom and not really thinking with the clear head he would often boast of (to himself, if anyone), he took off after the human, drawing on that valuable energy he had just consumed, spending it without thought.
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Old September 5, 2011, 01:58 PM   #7 (permalink)
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Yes, he definitely tasted different.

Had Etienne ever realized this? How different they can taste? Or had he been indifferent all this while? That he did not care, or... he could not care because he did not feel it. Blood was blood after all. There were no spices, or flavorings, or texture, or taste the likes of mortal food - like the roasted pork garnished with parsley, steam fish with, the melted cheese on potatoes, or sautéed mushrooms with butter, and the sweet cakes with fruit toppings - Did he remember those tastes? Did he miss them? Was the price of immortality too high indeed?

Yet the Quel'anthasan could taste him, it was however something that could not be described the same way as the gourmet he had tantalized his taste buds with when he had been alive. It was just... different. It was like... the dangerous taste of sex, drugs, excitement, and thrills -- which was different to the earlier female he had just dumped into the bay, who tasted of ignorance, surprise and need.

The boy was definitely more delicious somehow. But there was no time to continually savor the taste, not with all that darn annoying screaming.

His spent victim slid away from his embrace, falling lifeless like a ragdoll onto the sand, while the woman screamed and screamed when it finally died off into silence, cut-off abruptly mid-scream. Etienne's punch had came flying towards her, though strangely he felt nothing connected to his fist. And it wasn't because she dodged or anything like that. She had simply just fainted off by herself, her prone and fully nude form comically lying sprawled on the sand. At least the vampire need not dirty his hands with this one.

But now for the other male....

And so he dashed towards him. By right, given the distance and the speed of the Secyclid, no way can any normal men close in to him. He had too great and too much of a head start, but Etienne was no normal man was he?

The world around him simply blurred, though his vision was as clear, if not sharper than normal. The sounds too were amplified, though they came rushing and crashing first before giving way to clarity, and then everything became so crystal clear that he thought he could even hear the rustling of insects upon the leaves.

And now, he stood in front of the male.

He might not felt it, but he had simply moved like the wind. To the naked eye, they could not even see what happened. It was like he had teleported - disappearing from one end before reappearing at another.

The male look shocked, horrified, as he came skidding to a halt, and bumping right into Etienne. The vampire on the other hand, felt nothing of the physical, just this rushing feeling like blood was pulsating through his veins, pumped by a heart on overdrive. But... he did not have a beating heart anymore right? And yet here he felt like he was alive again. Too alive. Was this the bloodlust that he had been warned about. Did his creator even ever warn him about this in fact? Or perhaps it was the drugs in the boy's system now transferred into him. Maybe even, a dangerous cocktail of both.

Still, this particular male was not weak and submissive like the first he fell. This one was aggressive, dominant, and a fighter to boot. He recovered quickly, swinging a vicious one-two combination of a left and right hook aimed at Etienne's face, his stance hinting well his skills in pankration, the traditional fighting style of Eunesians.
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Old September 21, 2011, 06:39 PM   #8 (permalink)
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Had the questions been verbally posed to him, Etienne would have known his immediate answer: No. He missed nothing. He could think of nothing that he missed. In those moments--especially in those moments--Etienne could recall nothing, could want for nothing of his mortal tenure. This drive, this want, this taste, this feeling…it connected with the Trelorean. It was who he was meant to be, what he deserved to be, what he ought to be. So the blood flowed over him and he drank it down, savoring the way it melted over his bones and shivered through him. Ecstasy. Sublime sweetness. He could spend an eternity with his arms wrapped around the neck of another, his mouth locked against his skin.

But the blood ran dry and he felt himself wanting. Needing. Desperate for more. He had to have.

With the woman sprawled stupidly on the ground, a limp puppet he could always return to, the Trelorean's newest prey tickled him. The chase…it recalled him to other times when he had selected a target from the crowd, a poor man or woman that knew nothing of the person that was slithering up against them, breaking down their defenses and insinuating himself into their lives to take what he required. The more complicated the trust, the chase…the more rewarding the victory at its conclusion.

So he pounded over the ground, closing in upon the man in a matter of moments that made Etienne smile into the shocked, the horrified, face. It was Etienne's wont to mock his prey or perhaps to soothe them into a false sense of security. He would have now, too, if it weren't for the fist that flailed towards his face. He was no stranger to a fist or palm aiming for his face, but he was nonetheless no fighter. He always took the blows or tried to dodge them as best he could. He would have preferred to seat himself upon a silver threaded cushion than come to blows.

And Aeternia knew that Etienne could not handle silver.

Untrained and hungry, desperate to feel and taste the sweetness that was rushing through him (and so utterly untutored in the ways of vampires), Etienne thought only of his end goal as the fists swung towards him. He could do nothing more than try to move backwards and out of the way before, as the man recovered his first two blows, throwing himself on the man, hands grasping for the other's throat, eager to grasp, to pin, to crush.
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Old October 11, 2011, 06:03 AM   #9 (permalink)
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The man was fast, despite the alcohol in his blood that impeded his movements, still he was fast, a Secyclion in the prime of manhood. But so was Etienne. The gifts bestowed upon the Quel'anthasan by his maker, gave onto him, speed and strength beyond anything he ever had when he breathed still, beyond any living man for that matter. And while the man's performance had regressed slightly in his state of drunkenness, the vampire would find himself achieving the opposite. The overindulgence has affected him not just in mind but also in body. He was faster than ever. Stronger too obviously. It was to be an experience Etienne perhaps could begin to savor, and hopefully, realize by then...

Etienne moved back in a bid to dodge the man's attacks, and doubtlessly proved to be the faster of the two. But though both his strikes missed, it had no bearings on the trained fighter who was accustomed to on-the-spot improvisation, recoveries and contingency plans on a subconscious level, as to keep up with the unpredictable nature of combat. And then Etienne countered back, a move that had already been anticipated by the man; a move that was somewhat clumsy even to the inexperienced eye, having simply flung his frail body frame onto the more muscular human. The supernatural being might have the upper hand indeed when it comes to physical superiority, but there was only so much being bigger (might not be so accurate with Etienne considering his lack of physical stature), stronger and faster could go without knowledge and skill.

Sadly, the vampire clearly lacked that in a fight, appearing as ham-fisted as a human in the name of irony. And before he knew it, he found himself flying through the air before landing very ungracefully on the sand, splayed upon the dirt like paint on the wall. Apparently the human had willingly gone down with him as they collided, going down onto his back before using the momentum and with the aid of his legs to simply toss Etienne over and about in a classic wrestling move. Still he had merely been thrown off, and did not suffer any bruises or any manner of injuries that would delay his recovery, other than feeling a little stunned and depending on how big his ego was, humiliated.

Already a crowd had began to form. They had heard the man's cries, or that of the girl's and had stopped whatever they were doing, curiosity reeling them in. And this was by no means a 'crowd' of five or six men or women, but a rather a very large crowd the likes that had littered the beaches of Secyclion as they came to bask and enjoy the heat of the summer. Fortunately for Etienne, most of them were drunk or their minds clouded by intoxicants of some kind, and that the screams of terror by both genders of his victims seem to have been 'misheard'. Instead of rushing to help the human, they cheered, jeered and clapped, even starting to take bets, enjoying the spectacle of yet another 'drunken brawl'. It did not help that the Secyclid was jabbering away in Eunesian, wherein most of the crowd were Mainlanders ignorant of the language. But there were of course the few Eunesians in the crowd, or the few Mainlanders who did understand Eunesian, also were not that drunk silly to not recognize the meaning of "Help". One of them could be seen in fact, his face changing as he came to know what or who Etienne was, and what he had done.

It was only a matter of moments now, the possibility of chaos from a frenzied, panicky crowd once the word has spread...

In the mean time his prey had his back towards the predator as he tried to get seek assistance and make them realize the danger that was Etienne.

Surely it would be folly to continue with the hunt in front of so many eyes, or not?

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Old October 19, 2011, 12:33 PM   #10 (permalink)
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Etienne found himself flying. It was a strange feeling, one he could not revel in, for it seemed as quickly as his flight had begun, it ended. He thudded into the sand with a grunt, the impact jarring him. Little more. He rolled, scrambling awkwardly to his feet, a hand held in front of him as if to ward off the man, a plead to hold off on the attack. He flashed a wild-eyed grin, his mind racing, his body wanting. It took everything to restrain himself as he flickered a look around him, taking in the specters, some of them desperate to see blood shed, fists flying. His eyes locked briefly with the one whose face altered and the Trelorean merely fixed his grin upon the man.

He did not flee, turn tail and run. Fear was not in Etienne's catalog of sins. He could recognize a problem when he saw one, a problem that could lead to death or trouble. The intelligent thing, he knew, would have been to turn and run, to get out of this place. The city. If he was recognized for what he was now, there would be no hiding. Not in Secyclion. Perhaps not even in Eunesia. They would hunt him, others like him. If they had the balls for it. "Kyrios! My apologies for disrupting your evening," he called out to the crowd, raising his extended hand in the air as acknowledgment to them. "My friend here has had a particularly potent brew along with some herbs that he likely should have left in his pocket. Suffice to say, they do not mix, non?"

Making a show of drawing in a deep breath, he swept at his hair, moving it out of his face."I suggested as much to him and now I'm some sort of monster? For shame, my friend, you'll ruin my reputation. I'm only trying to save you the embarrassment when you get home to your wife. Enough to think that she'll have my head on a platter, much less a whole crowd." His Jaedaxian accent made the words heavy. He knew he was not on solid ground. Etienne was an outsider. Not only did he look as if he did not belong, but he quite clearly sounded like a transplanted foreigner as well. There were mainlanders mixed within the group, but would they be enough?

He stepped forward, closing in upon the man. He wished to reach out and grasp the man by the shoulder, to claim him, but he held back. The man was strong and Etienne could see himself being grabbed by the arm in his reach, thrown over the other's head. He wasn't interested in being flung into a crowd that was possibly being riled against him. It was a shame clara would take too long to obtain, or Etienne might have pressed upon a spell or two to assist him. Suggestion, to make the man really fall into hysterics, live up the crazy. Invisibility, to get himself away, so that he might continue another brightening.

"Would someone be so kind as to help me get my friend back to his home? Kyrio, you look fit to collapse. Your wife is going to rip you to shreds," he informed his accuser in a light tone, his formerly wild grin having settled into a more congenial smile.
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Old November 6, 2011, 07:27 AM   #11 (permalink)
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The man whom Etienne addressed, the one whose expression had made a change upon listening to the Secyclid's words, a young looking man whom from the looks of his features probably hailed from the neighboring islands of Eunesia, released a shrill cry like that of a little girl before he turned around and disappeared into the crowd. Some began shouting "murderer!" or "monster!" but many more were yelling irrelevancies, amid the random inebriated cheers and laughter.

"Give me your wife! Is she hot?!" someone shouted.

"Screw him! Come be my companion instead you pretty little elf thing!" another yelled and proceeded to give off a series of cat calls.

"Hey I asked first!" another responded.

"Non!" jeered a nearby Jaedaxian with blood shot eyes, an equally reddened face and whose breath reeked of alcohol. "Mais elles sont amusants!!" he grinned like an idiot, drunk but apparently not that quite drunk yet to not realize Etienne's Jaedaxian roots.

The vampire could also hear more smattering of Jaedaxianne or Common as heavily accented as his coming from the crowd as they reacted warmly to their fellowman. Secyclion certainly had quite a sizable Jaedaxian population, being considered a favorite tourist destination by the Northrumbian patronage, if not due to the handful of rebels who escaped persecution after Jaedaxia's botch attempt to break away from the Empire.

As for his victim...

He gave Etienne one last furtive look before trying to squeeze through the crowd, to hopefully try get as far away as possible from the likes of this unnatural predator. If the rest of the fools wanted to deal with this being so be it but clearly self preservation was on top on his priority, along with the a small handful of others who thought the same thing. However as he attempt to push through, the crowd retaliated by pushing him back out and into what could be described as some sort of makeshift 'ring' they had created by simply encircling the duo and leaving a small space for them. He looked both bewildered and angry, as he tried to push through again only to be roughly shoved back out.

"Fight!" the wild crowd yelled. "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" they chanted in near unison, broke occasionally by a random person cheering on their favorites. A mainlander yelled something in Eunesian to the Secyclid, while a deranged woman screamed at Etienne, "Get him monsieur!"

Now Etienne found himself with a choice; to give in to the crowd's wishes or to refuse. His opponent was clearly opting for the latter as he struggled to leave the ring.

So much for being civil. It seems like everyone has gone crazy in the summer heat. Well, almost everyone...

Among the many faces, one stood out, enough to catch Etienne's attention despite the rising chaos. He was human, deliciously good looking with jet black hair and intense piercing green eyes that seem to glow in the dim lighting just like a cat's. Naturally he could never compare to elves in terms pf physical looks alone but even from the distance, with the frenzied crowd around him, he carried an air of superiority and regality that could be felt, the mixture of the two creating a kind of magnetic charm that was hard to simply dismiss. He did not join in the crowd, there was no drunken cheering from him, neither did he show any kind of fear, or even intrigue or curiosity assuming he understood what Etienne was. All he did was simply smile, one directed at the Quel'anthasan, yet he made no move to approach or to help, simply preferring to resume the bystander role of watching the elf and his reaction towards the whole mayhem that he had instigated.
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Old January 6, 2012, 08:42 PM   #12 (permalink)
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So much crowd chatter and none of it the like that Etienne wanted to hear. He was not the sort to sit there and banter with the crowd when he would have far rather had his own way, slinking off to tend to something other than physical conflict. Yet there he was…stuck. He let them jeer and catcall, sneer and holler. He ignored them, focusing utterly on the man in the center of the ring. His plea to let him loose and take care of his friend had gone ignored. So be it. He'd tried. Clearly all that remained was the choice to take out the man he had been aiming for to begin with. Only he couldn't do to him what he had wanted to do in the first place.

Not with everyone watching him.

With a theatric sigh, the Trelorean and Jaedaxian drew himself up, one hand at his hip, the other lifting as he indicated the others. "If you say I must, monsieurs, I must. Alas, he does not seem to be much of an opponent for your entertainment, the way he skulks and tries to escape, hm?" He flashed a smile at the man, however distracted he was trying to get away.

It was in this pose, this gesture to the crowd, that his eyes swept over those looking upon him. Silly, all of them. Ridiculous. Ugly things that were merely ants to squish beneath a heel. Then he spotted the man, pretty in the way of humans, if not the way of elves. Magnetic in the way that a man of confidence could be. And he met Etienne's gaze with amusement, almost knowingly. Or simply enjoying the fun the way the rest of the crowd was. Yet that wasn't quite true, was it? There was something…different. He was calm, possessed of his self-awareness. He had not lost his head as the rest of them had. An amazing thing for a human.

Well. Etienne might be denied one meal now, but there was no telling what the rest of the evening foretold.

He watched his would-be prey struggle to escape him. "Shall we end this, mon ami?" He curled his fingers into fists and strode forward, feet moving quickly, if not at the quickest they could muster, edging along in an attempt to follow the man's path. Then he rushed forward, fist slamming towards the man's face with what strength the vampire could muster. If he couldn't feast from him, he could at least negate the problem as quickly as possible. Knock him down and out. Well. Etienne could at least try to manage that.
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Old February 8, 2012, 01:00 PM   #13 (permalink)
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And the crowd went wild!

They roared their approval as Etienne gave it to their demands, striding over towards the cowardly Secyclid. The vampire could smell the blood rush as they actually shouted for it, begging to be entertained with the sight of violence, screaming both encouragement and obscenities to both, particularly the unfortunate prey - yelling how he had no balls, or was not man enough to fight - that the rank smell of foul alcohol laced-breath defiled Etienne's nostrils, made worse with his senses enhance from the sensation of his earlier kill.

And then... BAM! -- Straight to the jaw his fist collided, possibly dislocating it even as the Secyclid flopped to the sand like a sack of potatoes, a total knock out scored.

Just like that it was all over....

Immediately the crowd went still, a sudden silence descending upon the beach as they stood around with their mouths still hanging in mid-sentence. The almost comical sight remained for a good moment or two, before the first few mutterings finally broke the pseudo spell. Gone were the sounds of excitement now replaced with that of disgruntlement as it grew in crescendo. They had been expecting to see a good fight, and clearly this was far from satisfactory. Regardless, their interest in Etienne disappeared just as fast as it had grew, more interest were they now in trying to haggle with the bookie who was busy collecting their winnings or losses, that the Quel'anthasan was free to depart from the now slacken 'arena ring' of sweaty bodies.

If it was that peculiar human male he was searching for, he need not find him; the man found him.

If even from afar one could sense the empowering presence he radiated, it was even more startling now that he stood so near and at an imposing six feet few. "Bonjour," he greeted Etienne, his voice, deep and rich, as velvety smooth as his demeanor. His accent was flawless, perhaps a hint as to his human origins for it was clearly difficult to ascertain as to where he was from based on appearance alone. He looked exotic, a mix-blood, maybe between that of Eunesian and Medonian descent with a tinge of Vagaran, or even Hesperian blood yet undiluted, if not boasting elfin blood somewhere.

"Quite a fight you put up there, if you could call it that," he chuckled, reverting to Common, and with that his accent too - a Medonian - perhaps Medonian blue-blood on top his plethora of distinguished breeding, judging from how he carried himself.

And then with an even wider grin plastered upon his handsome visage, suddenly he leaned in, his lips barely an inch away from Etienne's pointed ears, long pale fingers gently caressing the elf's cheek, "I had my money on you the moment I laid my eyes on such a lovely and deadly creature," he crooned in a voice barely above a whisper. "I would certainly wish to get well acquainted with one as such. Do you have a name?" he asked boldly.

So close, yet so strange. Etienne could feel the wild pulsating, but it was not like that of a beating heart. No, it was different somehow, distant, surreal, akin more to a sensation rather than a literal feeling, like the drums of war signaling oncoming danger... yet still despite so there was no telling what the rest of the evening foretold truly.
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Old February 9, 2012, 01:28 PM   #14 (permalink)
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Quick and simple. His hand hardly even hurt as he flung open his fingers and shook the joints briefly, flexing his knuckles as the sensation of the strike vibrated through his arm. He eyed over the man now sprawled on the ground, cheek canting slightly as he waited…and found that the man was not rising to his feet to retaliate. Either he knew the benefit of staying down and waiting for the rest to disperse, or he was truly knocked out. Whether or not he had died, given the force behind the blow…well. Etienne didn't care enough to check, though he barred his teeth briefly in some display of annoyance at being incapable of taking advantage of his prey's stillness. A free feast that could not be had.

How disappointing.

Feeling twitchy and a little amped from the encounter, the Trelorean pivoted away from the man on the floor, from the people gathered around them, and glanced briefly about the crowd. He did not spot the man who had caught his eyes moments earlier, but that bothered him little. He started away, to put them behind him before anyone else got it in their heads to cause him trouble, only to his ears picking up that familiar Jaedaxienne that turned his eyes on the green-eyed, pretty boy of a human. A human who clearly thought himself the superior of many around him.

Etienne watched him warily, allowed him to draw close, mouth so near to his ears that he could feel the man's hot breath brushing over his skin. There was a danger that emanated from this human. Curious. Etienne shifted away from the man, but only by leaning away from his mouth. He reached up to grasp at the other's hand that had drawn along his skin. The Trelorean was more accustomed to being the predator, to whispering sweetly in other's ears, to tracing patterns on their body to elicit responses. It was strange to find himself the prey to this man's odd hunger.

Clasping the hand gently, letting the other's fingers trickle like silk through his own, he chuckled. "I have many, mon coeur. Have you a preference?" he returned, brushing a brief kiss over the other's knuckles before finally releasing it. "But if you wish…you may call me Évariste."

He desired to turn and walk away, largely because he wished to place some distance between himself and the battleground he had crafted. There were the bodies that could yet be found and Etienne somehow associated with it. And then there was the man… He would eventually wake, if he weren't already dead, and babble what he had uncovered about Etienne. The elf wouldn't be hard to find again. How many were there of a blue and purple coloring on this island? Himself only. Yet he had no desire to turn his back on the green-eyed man either, unsure that putting a blind eye to him would have done Etienne any wonders.

Unsure of what this individual expected of this meeting, Etienne nonetheless had matters to clean up. He pressed his smile at the other. "Mon cher, I promised I would bring my friend to his maison. Would you care to assist me? He looks like a man who is quite heavy, non?" It was likely Etienne could have carried him all by himself, but he had no desire to waste his strength in such a fashion. It was possible he might have need of it later.

With a glance about him, Etienne began to approach the man. With luck he could grab him and be out of there without any incident.
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Old March 2, 2012, 09:15 AM   #15 (permalink)
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"Évariste," the man smiled as he let the syllables roll of his tongue, savoring the name as if it was wine and song on one's lips. Those almost feline-like transparent green eyes roamed all over his prey, betraying lust and desire in his appreciation of the feminine qualities Etienne presented upon his masculine frame, an eroticism almost exclusive only to the children of Phedos.

Prey...

Truly that was the imagery that was being presented right now; the human being the hunter of the hunt, and the elf being the prize to be subdued. Perhaps "Évariste" (if that was what he'd like to be called for now) could have tried to switch the roles back to his comfort zone if he so wished, although he seemed to be tolerant with his less dominant position thus far. The human on the other hand, looked set in relishing his supremacy over the lesser male, as if he had done this a thousand times over. He definitely appeared more accustomed to be taking the lead rather than the other way around, and neither did he look the type to actually accept or enjoy not being in control.

It was awkward for the vampire to relinquish himself to a mere human... if human he even was.

If the lack of a real pulse was not disturbing enough, there was a stiff coldness in his hand when Etienne had grabbed it, like that of a corpse, void of any warmth, eerily mirroring his if one could say the same of him, and yet the sensation of 'breath' coming from the man felt real enough. If the Quel'anthsan had showed any reaction to this strange discovery, the male did not notice, or at the very least pretended not to notice.

"Clever..." he hummed gaily as Etienne turned to walk back towards the fallen Secyclid. "... covering your tracks from the scene of the crime. And I almost thought you were the careless type, or should I say, the young and reckless, too eager to indulge without regards to consequences. Enjoying your newfound freedom much?" he gave a cheeky wink and flashed a toothy grin, one that revealed a short glimpse of... fangs? - or maybe, it was just his imagination and these were just normal canine teeth somewhat elongated.

"And what about the other two bodies you've left on the beach hmm?" he added in a voice just loud enough for their ears alone, and with knowing eyes twinkling mischievously.

"The darkening is young. But still, let's not waste our time dragging around stale meat. Leave the man, he is drunk, everyone is. Let him spread the word, let him sow fear, and when men tremble only then can we truly feel like gods," the man crooned, taking a step forward to reach out, grab Etienne by a wrist and pulled him back. "... or more likely, he can preach but no one will believe him. If you're lucky, maybe they will even pin these bodies on the poor sod, who knows? Now come, I know this great party the heathens are throwing. I'm sure we can find someone there to further satiate your appetite... and satisfy our needs," he quipped as a hand swept around Etienne's waist to steer him away from wherever and whatever his intent towards his own one instead without even bothering to see if his newfound toy was willing or not.

Figures, there was not going to be a "your place or my place" discussion with this male.
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