Hunt or Be HuntedReplies: 2 / 62 days 6 hours 58 minutes 25 seconds
- [Allowed] NorthernWolves
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[size10 inspired by the Anita Blake novel series by Laurell Hamilton]
Monsters have been in the wings of the world since its beginnings. Humans, in their endless wisdom, had decided of course that those things not understood and potentially of danger to your personal health and safety were to be hunted down, killed, and generally done away with throughout the ages. However, as many things are, the undead more specifically, have been more and more accepted as individuals that think and feel. To an extent.
Zombies are still bare semblances of what a human once was. Ghouls are animals; they hunt and kill and feed off of the flesh of whatever they find. Those are generally done away with with relative quickness, and relative prejudice due to their threat to general populaces. Vampires are incredibly dangerous. But also increasingly numerous. After the early 2000's, they became incredibly popular as a cult/counterculture type of existence, and became highly stylized in the media, nothing said about immortal souls, or a lack of care towards mortals. So, now with their numbers so large they in that sense are forced to be considered a sort of partway-human type of individual. And killing a vampire, without law sanctioned execution warrant, is illegal. Like murder of another person. Though with vampires, that gets real messy and they're still straightening that out legally.
Are you a Hunter, or a Seer who is about to get pulled into a world that you're incredibly not prepared for when a master vampire "asks" for your assistance in solving the murders of a handful of local master vampires. Or are you a civilian who is drawn into this sort of shadowy side-world with the wide eyes of a, but the desire for that pull of darkness, those beautiful faces, and gets swept up in the danger of the world of the vampire, or a vampire junkie. And you bear witness something you weren't supposed to.
I have a few characters I've an idea to play.
[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]]
I write long-form fiction, so I'm somewhere around 1000+ words on a post, on average.
I don't believe in strict posting schedules, because I am a busy human, and I'm sure you are. This is for fun and leisure, after all. Come when you can and have the energy for it, and that's all I expect for you to respect for me as well. I try and post weekly, or every other just because I have work and band and a lot going on.
Do not be afraid of talk and chat! I can't use the realtime chat bar, but I use PMs, or if you're down we can do Discord. Please share ideas if you've got them, and if you need help, I haven't given enough for a post, whatever you need, and I'll do the same.
Romance for the story is an option, but it's not required. I do like some usually, so please tell me if you absolutely don't want that and I can for sure accommodate.
[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]]
[center [+red Any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to PM me! Send your favorite dessert in the subject bar!]
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[left [pic https://i.pinimg.com/564x/20/d5/ed/20d5edb93aa86a1b079a6cbfda113c01.jpg]] Finlay Street was one of those streets that was really cute and fun and bright during the day, but being this close to a college, and this in-between places populated with people, the storefronts shuttered for the evening and all of the outdoor furniture pulled inside to prevent pilfering, it gained this ominous, liminal feeling. You knew you weren't supposed to be here. There was only one apartment that existed above one of the storefronts that never had lights in it, and thus no witnesses. Only those who filled in the cracks.
Potentially harmless, but intimidating looking men sitting against concrete planter edges or building alleyways with their Huffy bikes and flat brims, looking like they were waiting for trouble or ready to start it. Wandering few homeless, in this transitory street, looking to either kill time or to scavenge what they could here and there. That was the sort of feel the street had after dark. Potentially dangerous. Close to campus, so it should be fine. But possibly very dangerous. College towns as a whole had that feeling. A transitory, liminal, potentially dangerous feeling. Many people either broke, lost, or stuck here during or after school dumps them into the real world. It was a volatile place to be.
And leaving Finlay St, there was the dark expanse of a nighttime schoolyard. One of those yards that had the playground structures huddled next to the building, and the empty, blank grass that seemed to stretch for miles, edged in a chain link fence. It was this long, empty space that Ilvana had to pass through, or around, to get home.
And it was that space that as a young woman walking home, alone, a few of those individuals approached her. Asking where she was going. Saying she looked good, huh? Very good. Agreement. Hungry eyes. Licked lips. But it wasn't the assumed form of coercion that they were after. Their eyes were on her throat, the backs of those eyes reflecting the light. Fangs, young vampires, shown in big grins. Being able to smile without showing fang was something the older ones learned. These ones wore snapbacks, big sweatshirts, and crooked grins. They could see in the dark. Could she? They circled her like so many buzzards.
[right [pic https://i.pinimg.com/564x/05/85/93/0585931c287629a8db9137671173f3e0.jpg]] Oliver Hargreaves was one of the individuals on that street. However, he was one who was standing straight, eyes straight- though wandering around with curiosity, languidly walking with his hands in his pockets. Long, dark coat swishing about his calves, he swept through the grass, semi-long, and looked up as he heard the commotion. He drew closer to the single sodium light on the field.
His pale hair glinted, coming into focus from the edge, one long earring charm on a chain glinting in the light.
The presence of so many made the air thicken, almost. Half of vampiric communication wasn't audible, not palpable. His presence made the air almost cottony with static, like the moments when a thunderstorm cell was hovering, the air cold, but dry, charged. Before everything let loose.
For now he simply watched, looking at the human woman they had cornered.
In one testing tube you had a liquid containing a student of a never quitting caliber when it came to school, the second testing contained a liquid of an important assignment in the form of a term paper which decided whether or not students would advance to begin their PhD's. The first liquid had no appearance of having a volatile state, while the second appeared to fizz and pop and bubble with an evaporating smell.
Let's stop and make a hypothesis here: If one mixes the nonvolatile and volatile liquid together, then the resulting reaction would create a potable and potent yet unstable concoction that quickly evaporates leaving behind a solid residue.
Results in the form of observations:
The term paper, a 20 page long blood sucker, had been issued to Ilvana's class just short of three weeks ago.
Now, the first week there had been no working on the actual paper itself for a lab required to be finished first before any of the writing - or its modern counterpart, typing - could begin. For Ilvana laboratory experiments had the feeling of a second skin. No stumbling, merely flying fast, without errors, from one part to the next.
But the paper itself. She always encountered a grinding, slow uphill fight. The process of mixing grammar, sentences, everything in her lab notebook, various punctuation, proper citations including in-text citations and spelling into a perfect elixir of an essay never came easy to Ilvana; no help came from the fact about the fate of failure waiting to smash the still forming elixir into oblivion.
As the minutes diluted to hours, and to days, a change occurred in Ilvana. It occurred gradually but nevertheless her friends noticed it right away. When one of your friends who's outgoing and happy begins to closet themselves in their room and in a constant state of an information hangover with just a touch of irateness and frustration. Ilvana even quit hanging out with her friends at places they'd almost always hang out with
This change had the same noticeability given to a clear liquid turning into a shade of violet after the addition of an unknown substance.
Conclusion: If one mixes the nonvolatile and volatile liquid together, then the resulting reaction would create a potable and potent yet unstable concoction that quickly evaporates leaving behind a solid residue. Before the beginning of the term paper Ilvana had maintained her friendships without any trouble. However, as time crept forwards Ilvana had slowly distanced herself from her friends until completely stopping attending the hangout sessions and occasionally spitting out irate rants.
A Friday evening, a nice refreshing evening to end another week before the weekends dawned over the horizon. Three weeks had passed since the term paper's assignment, and its due date slowly loomed in one-in-a-half weeks. As it concerned finishing in time, Ilvana's worries were literally zilch. But the quality of it, the worries far outnumbered the entropy of a single cup of water at one degree centigrade.
Inside the dorm she shared with her musical degree inclined roommate, Ilvana sat all alone in the pitch black of the living room. The only light illumination came from the blaring and glaring white screen of her laptop. Curled up on the couch, Ilvana's attention focused on the screen, more specifically the black pixels against the backdrop of white pixels of an open word document.
Two noticeable sounds could be noticed:
The first one would be a quiet, soothing sound of music coming from a Bluetooth speaker whose lone blue light winked every now and again. The music style had the style of classical era of music of the likes of Beethoven or Haydn, the only reason Ilvana knew this was listening to her musically inclined roommate, but with more of an electronic feel to it. It helped create a less stressful atmosphere, complemented with the leaf-brewed green tea whose rising steam could be seen when the blue light winked.
As to the second sound, that concerned the keyboard. Ilvana's fingers made it steadily click and clack like a [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ClAQ6k--jnw Maxim Machine Gun] as the 19th page slowly was mowed down to completion with each firing of the next word. Occasionally there'd be a break in the click-and-clack suppressive fire before there'd be a few short bursts. But sometimes, there'd be a huge break before the fast firing of words like a [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1BPNEFyWeBs minigun] would drown the music before coming to an abrupt halt as the ammunition depleted quickly. Curses flew out with ever increasing anger, followed by frustrated sighs and groans that accompanied the heavy and depressing clack of the backspace being hit, eliminating one character at a time with the fearful precision of a [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rmz717Q2RHQ 50 caliber sniper rifle].
Slamming down on the control key quickly followed by the S key, Ilvana let the computer process the save command before quickly exiting out of the accursed word document. Closing the laptop and setting it aside on the table in front of her, Ilvana closed her eyes and basked in the darkness. Curling up cat-like, she cupped her arms against her chest breathing slowly and deeply. Finally, finally she'd been able to finish the first draft of essay. Over 40,000 characters arranged into over 6000 words space out over to an odd 50 paragraphs on 20 pages, only counting the essay itself and not the 21st [i Works Cited] page and all the links oozing into the 23rd page. As to editing the draft, the editing could bugger off and leave her.
Reaching into the pocket of her blue jeans, Ilvana pulled up her phone as the screen came to life as a warm orange of a sunset. The phone silently unlocked as she touched a yellow with white ghost tiled app, opening her Snapchat. Browsing through various stories, there came a series of her friends. A bitter smile formed itself on her lips seeing her friends having fun at a bar, a time existed where she'd enjoy those sort of moments with them. Wait a minute, what was stopping her now? The essay basically done and tomorrow the weekends, she could get drunk to the point of waking up with a hangover tomorrow and still be fine.
Standing up, Ilvana's face screwed up into a bit of pain as the muscles in the legs complained loudly from the sudden stretching after being in a compressed state for two hours nonstop. Trailing an arm along the wall, Ilvana blindly walked while feeling for the small bump somewhere in the wall indicating the presence of the light switch.
Flipping the switch with a sharp flick of the wrist, the four lightbulbs just as sharply illuminated the room in a dazzling smooth, white color. Ilvana closed her eyes right away, the eyes hurting from such a sudden transition from dark to light. It took a few forceful blinks before the spots disappeared.
Looking herself over, deciding whether what she be wearing could be suitable enough. A blue pair of jeans with no hole, a simple oak brown belt snaking its way through the loops in the jeans, a charcoal black t-shirt with a dark green Celtic snake design on it. The jeans appeared fine, and though the t-shirt be slightly ruffled it was still wearable.
As she meandered over to the entrance/exit, for every entrance there's an exit, of the dorm room, Ilvana gently pressed the right palm of her hand against her left shoulder. The stretch felt present as the left shoulder finally eased its complaints. The arm did complain a little as part of a metallic chain and a silver Celtic cross indented into the back of the right arm through the t-shirt.
Ilvana personally viewed religion as an agnostic, even though her parents were Catholics. But this religious necklace had less of a religious meaning and more of a token of memory for her father had made it himself. The Celtic Cross around her neck over the years had imbued itself with the many excellent family memories.
Picking out a pair of inconspicuous grey sneakers, Ilvana slipped them on, the laces left tied from the previous time she had worn them, over the short, ocean blue socks on her feet. She nodded as she donned a faded, forest green jacket, realizing the floor had felt so smooth had been because of the socks.
After finally slinging her small, taupe black duffel bag over her right shoulder, Ilvana stepped out into the chilly night. Every breath made her feel that more alive as the night air chilled her respiratory system, for so long the only air she had breathed was the stale, stereotypical dorm smell which one made feel dead after spending too long inside. Much time had passed since feeling this free.
Walking into the bar, her friends spotted their illusive toxicologist wannabe friend before she could spot them. They waved their arms around, and the obvious commotion caught Ilvana's attention as she recognized her friends.
Making a beeline to the corner they had occupied, her friends quickly made room for the illusive friend.
The musical degree roommate, Hope, started off the joyful reunion with a quip, [+red "So, how much has the paper contaminated you, you've been somewhat toxic"]. If Hope had been using a serious tone then Ilvana would have ended up feeling insulted, but since it said in that joking and teasing tone everyone broke out chuckling; chuckling and laughing and friends, something she hadn't done in what seemed forever. [+purple "I've been quite contaminated, but don't worry. I don't think I'll be toxic for long, the paper is done and this night and you guys should be the perfect antidote to help cure me."]
The night at the bar went on longer than usual, for Ilvana had curiosity around her friends' doings while locking herself away. Over the pints of stout and ale and a few hours of time, slowly they caught up with each other while getting progressively drunk.
Nearing the closing time of the bar, their small six strong group was the last one to leave. Ilvana stayed behind for a bit, washing her face with icy cold water in the bathroom to wake up from the partial stupor caused by the alcohol before beginning her journey back to the dorms.
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.