Hunt or Be Hunted

/ By Tweedy [+Watch]

Replies: 18 / 1 years 11 days 14 hours 43 minutes 24 seconds

Allowed Users

  1. [Allowed] NorthernWolves

[center [pic]]
[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]]

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]]

[center [+red Any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to PM me! Send your favorite dessert in the subject bar!]


You don't have permission to post in this thread.

Roleplay Responses

[right [pic]] The eyes she looked to, having gathered herself, had a glimmer of unfamiliar light in the backs of his pupils, like embers behind a grate. His smile lacked a lot of the humor it had had before she had looked away from him. She was being really rather irritable and unpleasant, and he was losing his patience. [i She] had approached him out of nowhere. The smile he gave was slow, amused, and very serious as he arched his brows. She was very angry, and very assertive and demanding of something that could very easily kill her.

She was young, and she didn't have the perspective or forethought or self preservation, it seemed, whatever you call it, to understand where she was. Alone.

"[+goldenrod My, you really aren't any fun.]" he said, stirring the carbonation slowly out of his drink with the straws. His eyes narrowed a little. "[+goldenrod Did you happen to tell anyone where you were going tonight?]"

Oliver sat up straighter with a sigh, that smile yet on his face. "[+goldenrod First of all, yes they were. Doing exactly that, actually.]" Being undead or not, which he was neither confirming nor denying, didn't suddenly change you into the delectable, romanticized creature of the night that sat before Ilvana now, and into the gothic things that lived in the mortal imagination, and all that fiction. Death didn't change people like that. Not at first, at least. And those fledglings would likely never change, or leave this city.

"[+goldenrod Secondly, if I [i were] such a creature, truly, then perhaps I would be persuaded to solve a problem before it starts after being tracked down by an unpleasant, nosy, accusatory little person who doesn't like me anyways.]" Oliver took one of the straws out of the drink and dipped it into his mouth, grinning. "[+goldenrod Birds. Stones...]" The last thing he needed was her making a big huge stink out of things and setting some very unsavory sorts his way, either undead or the type that rather didn't take kindly to that sort of thing.

Oliver sat forwards, then, shrinking the distance at that little, round bar table between them by a lot, leaning on his arms. "[+goldenrod Oh, wow, good for you. What do you want, an applause? A certificate? "You got me."]" He laughed, voice low and between them solely. Wrinkling his nose a bit, a fang-revealing smile was brief, gone. "[+goldenrod Gee, I owe you now because you know my [i big] secret, and you're allowing me to keep it, safe and sound.]"

He took a slow inhale, through his nose, and his eyes traced over her, breath seeping between his teeth and tongue in a low hiss. "[+goldenrod What exactly did you think this encounter you created in your head was going to turn out like? You're either [i very] arrogant, very trusting,]" He shrugged. "[+goldenrod Or naive, or very short-sighted. And I haven't eaten yet tonight.]"
  Profile Storage / Tweedy / 6d 7h 51m 21s

No doubt he was having fun at her behest. Ilvana hadn’t come for a tease battle between herself and an individual she’d only met last night under eerie circumstances. The whole point of ‘you are a vampire’ was expressing her final thoughts on who he truly was. In some small way it felt infuriating. Here she sat, definitely forget the stalking part, attempting a serious conclusion for the events of the previous night; having it laughed back didn’t feel polite at all.

While Ilvana didn’t really care for atheists, she disliked Satanists. Why anyone would praise or even go as far as to worship the icon of evil completely baffled her. Concept wise it was equivalent to all those Neo-nazis who worshipped people like Hitler. Just felt as if people threw common sense out the window.

In a way she’d also thrown common sense out the window. Usually if one met a stranger after a mysterious late night run-in then one would avoid another encounter with the same stranger at any cost, especially if they were a supernatural species. In this case Ilvana thought she had justification, mostly the unquenched thirst for knowledge.

Leaning back in the chair, Ilvana closed her eyes while seething through her teeth. She could not tell whether his words were truly dismissive or poking fun at her situation, and either path led to anger. In the former case she knew he was lying, and in the latter it’d be making fun of her running into supernatural creatures. Either way, he knew how to infuriate someone.

After a few deep breaths in and out, Ilvana flicked her eyes back open locking her frustrated gaze with his. [+purple “Both you and I know those people were not a collection of frat boys having an after-frat party walk around. Those were feckin’ vampires, which actually now that I think about makes certain stories about this town and others make some god damn sense. And yes, I won’t be talking to anyone else about this for selfish reasons.”]
  Ilvana Sprat / NorthernWolves / 17d 20h 53m 3s
[right [pic]] Oliver blinked, gazing at the woman, the picture of innocence in the face of such a mean glare. His lips perched, daintily caressing the tiny straws in the drink he was pretending to nurse.

His brows shot up, a moment of gentle disbelief that perched on laughter was held between them before the actual laugh came. "[+goldenrod Oh stop,]" he teased, giving her a big, pleased grin. "[+goldenrod You're making my goth little heart flutter.]"

He pressed another snicker out from behind his teeth, plucking out and chewing absently on one of the cocktail straws.

"[+goldenrod Mm, yeah, trusting you with this big old secret,]" he mused, smiling softly. "[+goldenrod And you got attacked by a bunch of guys in hoodies and snap backs making moves on you, don't you remember?]" he inquired, arching his brows at her. "[+goldenrod But vampires, that's a good headline. You'll make the local news with that, but please don't involve me, they'll think I'm a Satanist, and I'm just atheist.]"

Oliver headed her off, sighing softly through his nose as he went through the motions. Admittedly, he was hoping to have been a little more on his game last night, but the messy drunk thing was a big ick-out for him.

He fished out the cherry in the bottom of the drink and slipped it into his mouth, humming in acknowledgment of what she was saying while he chewed it slowly, languishing in its odd, red flesh.

"[+goldenrod This is what I get for saving some poor drunk girl from a bunch of frat boys...]" He pushed his lower lip out, leaning his temple on the heel of his hand.
  Profile Storage / Tweedy / 32d 9h 52m 56s

Humans were species of contrasts and opposites, so much so that humans as a species had difficulties in understanding themselves. One such thing humans couldn’t understand about each other was fear. An assembly of humans would have one or more people afraid or have a phobia about something, while others didn’t have that fear or phobia. One of the more known fears was arachnophobia, and people who enjoyed arachnids couldn’t comprehend the scariness behind such creatures. And here’s where another incomprehensible aspect plays in; Despite the fear of something humans would do it anyways. Whether peer pressure or not caring humans would find one reason or another and bypass the fear.

Ilvana was afraid of vampires, especially after what she’d experienced the night before. She didn’t remember every little detail because of intoxication, but major points such as blood sucking and [i ‘vampire magic’] was ingrained into her brain. Whatever vampire magic she’d seen had most likely only been the very tippity top of the iceberg. He could simply convince her to leave him alone and she’d automatically be relegated into an observer, watching helplessly as she walked out and left him alone. But the overwhelming excuse came in the pursuit of knowledge. Ilvana just had to bloody know, that’s how she’d successfully done her science classes and this was just another of her experiments.

Ilvana appreciated catching him mid-drink, giving her time to calm down and let out whatever dear she could. Vampires could sense fear as weakness, and she did not want to appear weak or afraid. She knew no way she’d hide all her fear from him, but every little bit had to at least count one way or another.

Ilvana, expecting an answer to her question was thrown off by his question as an answer to her question. Her eyebrows furrowed, the left one slightly raising as the eyeballs swiveled down and glanced at the clothes over her body. Indeed they were the same ones from the previous day, but why would that be such a deal? Not the first time she’d done it, nor was it that uncommon to do. Whether out of laziness, saving money, or because the clothes weren’t that dirty, Ilvana rewore clothes. She knew her friends did it, which meant others on the university campus also rewore their clothes.

Shaking her head, Ilvana wiped the confusion before offering a stony glance while the bright green irises peeked inquisitively. [+purple “Enough with the nonsense”], leaning her head in while tilted her head down a bit and quietly, [+purple “You are definitely a vampire”]. Despite speaking quietly, Ilvana had an uncomfortable feeling that others somehow overheard this statement or accusation and now were paying unwanted attention. The feeling went hand-in-hand with the gloomy dark mood of the bar, making Ilvana feel that skin-creeping along her back. Biting her lower right lip gently, [+purple “What I don’t understand is why you let me go. Seeing as you vampires are a secretive kind, you could’ve kidnapped me. I do respect you for trusting me in not blabbing about it, but why take the risk?”] Despite also saying this quietly, Ilvana glanced around. She could swear that there were eyes in their direction, actively giving attention and wanted to hear further how the conversation would go.
  Ilvana Sprat / NorthernWolves / 52d 15h 59m 0s
[right [pic]] Oliver had found a familiar face amongst the crowd. You tended, with longevity, to stick to those who were your similar kind and at least in this town he was one of the elders. Not a coven leader, by far, but he was someone recognized by some in the area. And it so happened that the individual whose seat Ilvana had taken was one such individual.

His attention had been drawn with their absence to the glass in his hands, and momentarily away from the people he was sort of watching. Curiosity was getting the better of him, looking at the drink with its red colored cherry liqueur. He brought it up towards his lips. Just the tip, he thought, considering it before delicately dipping his tongue onto the edge of the glass to catch some of the liquid inside.

Ugh. He hid his disdain in a deep, wrinkling frown as something moved in front of his eyes.

Oliver placed his sweaty glass back down on the table and his coaster, his brows arching as he stared at the woman in front of him. His eyes moved over her, his expression only deepening when he recognized the same clothes as the other night.

The platinum blond leaned forward, pressing his brows together, "[+goldenrod Do you only own one set of clothes?]" he asked, placing a look of concern over his face. He at least managed to change clothes, the man in a black jabot and fitted, red velvet coat over top. A very vampiric look, including his ring-studded, long fingered hands. He had curled his hair this time, the ponytail laid in a puffed coiffure over his shoulder, bangs bouncing a bit as he made this affect.

He took pause, pursing his lips, "[+goldenrod Or- did you sleep in those?]"
  Profile Storage / Tweedy / 86d 11h 33m 54s

The sleep was strong, but the awakening weak. Ilvana waked up slow without alcohol ingestion, but the alcohol added all sorts of pleasant effects for slowing down awakening even further. Nausea from stomach inflammation, head throbbing from acetaldehyde , general body throbbing from vasodilation going into vasoconstriction, light and hearing sensitivity from disrupted neurotransmitters, low concentration of electrolytes/hydration/blood sugar leading to low concentration. Now would’ve it been easier to simply say that hangovers made one feel completely fucked over? Well yes, but then the opportunity for flexing chemical knowledge would’ve been passed over.

Not only did Ilvana wake up with all those hangover symptoms, she felt a need for a bathroom break. Alcohol tends to block the antidiuretic hormone, something aiding in water absorption. This tricks the body into expelling more liquid than absorbing, causing a foggy and painfully throbbing rush into the bathroom while absentmindedly taking off the pants and underwear so as not to soak them.

After all that, the rest of the morning was spent sitting in the couch with a cup of tea and bottle of water, alternatively sipping from the cup and bottle. Every now and again a need for a bathroom break emerged, but not as bad from the first.

Towards late afternoon most of the symptoms had disappeared except for the slight head fog. With the disappearance of the symptoms, the curiosity of last night rose and took its place. That whole incident was in a fog of its own, but the internet existed for a reason.

Making a fresh cup of tea along with a water bottle refill, Ilvana began her internet scouting for all things vampire related.

The internet had plenty of information, from myths and legends to people with so called first-hand experiences with vampires. It also contained data which disagreed with other data, but this disagreement came from the difference in region of said data. But there were definitely similarities in the stories and first-hand experiences of others which Ilvana herself had run into the previous night.

During all this searching the desire for concrete answers slowly awakened. Vampire or not that guy had been extremely rude, evasive towards all the questions. Ok, maybe he did have a right in not answering her questions but he had attacked her first and not the other way around. Seeing as this encounter had occurred after a bar, Ilvana thought maybe this time she’d go into the bar. Now the question came to which one for there were many bars and pubs in the area. A simple search for a horror themed bar came up with only one result, it was some distance away but having a car helped. And Ilvana’s purpose didn’t include getting drunk, rather demanding answers.

Dressing the same way she’d dressed the previous night before, walking out the dorm and into her blue Honda Civic. The car had a slight beat up appearance from the age, but it worked fine and Ilvana appreciated the worn out aesthetic on both inside and outside.

The drive, aside from outside noises, was complete silence. The chance did exist of overthinking how she’d start off the conversation, but that was what Ilvana focuses on as well as her driving.

30 minutes later Ilvana pulled into the half-full parking lot of the bar, the name in Halloween-font and colours not too high above the doorway. Walking into it the appearance was just like the pictures people had posted in their one-to-five star reviews, harsh lights in a dark and gloomy inside creating that dystopic themed reality.

The one downside of such an aesthetic made finding a pale-skinned guy difficult, aside from wandering around closely to each customer and giving them a look. Or maybe she could entice him to her, the chances of that were slim but she didn’t want to be that wandering creepy customer.

Walking up to the bar Ilvana found an open seat next to some other pale person, this one a female. Ordering a pint of beer, she quietly sat while glancing around.

A few minutes passed by. People entered and exited through the single set of double glass and metal doors, sitting behind the bar or one of the scattered tables. Yet the person whom she sought did not approach, and she’d been here 15 minutes and halfway though her pint glass.

Scooting the chair backwards with a slight squeak, Ilvana stood up and headed towards the bathroom. She didn’t truly need to go, paying more attention at the people around her then the nonexistent full bladder inside. Casually strolling through the bar looking around with the eyes, every now and then turning the head both sides.

Nearing towards the bathroom Ilvana’s hopes were lower and deflating lower. Glancing with the eyes one last time she thought a familiar face popped up, turning her head and squinting at the face which she though was familiar.

Either way she’d end up making an awkward moment, but the need to know outweighed everything else.

Walking up to him in an absentminded fashion before taking a seat right across from him. [+purple “Did you find someone else, or were there too many pickles out there?”], a mischievous, fear-tinged smile spreading on her lips as she locked eyes with him.
  Ilvana Sprat / NorthernWolves / 119d 19h 56m 26s
[right [pic]] Oliver departed quickly from the woman, fearing that she would demand he escort her home. He was feeling the heat of anxiety and repulsion at the prospect of dealing with her just losing everything all over the sidewalk. Beyond that, he was a terror, a hunter and didn't have to deal with such paltry human things anymore.

He ended the night by ending another paltry, human thing. He had been walking with a woman that he was grabbing near him, closer, closer, rougher. It left him vulnerable, ignorant of Oliver's presence. It was easy to separate them, with the woman running, sprinting away into the darkness just as the man had grabbed her. The vampire left the aggressor's body in the park.

The next evening was much the same. Though this night was warmer. He watched the humans around him and saw lighter layers, shedding his own overcoat and allowing his button up and waistcoat breathe. He didn't feel any chill, not like humans did, and so he had to make an effort to blend.

With an untouched drink in his hand, he began to mingle. He recognized a few of his kind across the bar, a favored haunt. It was a horror themed bar, with its harshly colored lights and dark interior. Being pale and mysterious wasn't unheard of here, which was merciful.

Oliver got something fruity-looking, in a squat whiskey glass with a skewered cherry in it, enjoying watching it sink deeper and deeper into the drink itself when he took his eyes from the people he was absently watching and listening to.
  Profile Storage / Tweedy / 138d 13h 42m 25s

Ilvana's body halted all quivering and shaking while the extended right hand began. As if all that motion had transferred from the body and into that hand, not stopping until even the fingers were affected in such a manner. This only happened due to the left arm wrapping the jacket closer round her body with the hand iron gripping it close, the warmth now better trapped nearer the chest area.

The legs still shaked for alcohol did nothing in helping the body keep warm. At least they weren't quivering so Ilvana didn't sway like a tree in the wind.

A smile dawned on her lips, amusement, which should've been kept hidden, at his sneer. No doubt her tackling had rubbed off on his vampiric sense of not being touched, especially by such a lowly form of life as a human being. The dawning smile rose to its zenith after hearing his first words. Ilvana had never mentioned or thought anything which related him to looking cute, quite the opposite since he'd attempted forcing himself on her in the dark.

More coward than cute, that's what he should've said.

His second phrase however only resounded with truth through and through. With her blood alcohol content Ilvana would've easily ejected the acidic mush onto the ground and whatever stood in front, how she hadn't yet was somewhat of a mystery. As to pickled food, not everyone enjoyed pickled food. Some enjoyed reaching for a pickle submerged under the pickle-juice depths and lifting it upwards for the teeth to crunch and tongue to taste, others looked at this form of enjoyment as an odd behavior.

His floating theatrics were mundane, especially after witnessing one after the next. But he had to maintain his dignity in one way or another, even going as far as calling her pickle girl. Now wasn't that all fine and dandy, being left with a drunk and pickled first impression instead of the vibrant bright red hair. But considering the dark atmosphere, no chance was given for the hair to show off its flair.

Now with no one else near only the sound of a creeping, chilling wind was heard. It was through this wind that Ilvana wandered back, a few near run-ins with inanimate objects before crashing into the door of her residence. A few groaning seconds passed to cover up the jingling of a blind search. Ilvana stood hunched over in the dark for a minute trying a few keys, sometimes using the same key, before finally the lock unlocked with a satisfied [i clack].

She didn't close the door, Ilvana slammed it with a resounding and thundering [i boom] and turning the lock before walking to the couch and dropping on and then into it. No time was lost in dropping into the depths of sleep.
  Ilvana Sprat / NorthernWolves / 179d 18h 27m 36s
[left [pic]] His pride was thoroughly wounded after being tackled by a [i human]. God, he was lucky they were alone or he would never live it down. He let himself get so high and mighty... he needed to pay better attention, he had a reputation to keep! Frustration at himself and how dirty he had become as a result of being tackled made the man's face hard when he looked at Ilvana, as she introduced herself.

He sneered, watching the weak mortal pull herself together and let himself lazily drift on an immaterial breeze before he righted himself again. She didn't look afraid anymore, either, which was disappointing- and in and of itself frustrating.

The moon in the thinly clouded sky above them, as Ilvana looked up at the pale man, illuminated the contrast between dark eyes and clothes and his hair and face. His mouth pushed to the side in a frown as he looked her over, doing little to hide his repulsion to the sloppy drunk affect before him.

Oliver looked at the hand she offered him- slick with sweat and shaking. Hardly appealing if he was feeling humorous. His face gained a disbelieving sneer. "[+goldenrod I may be being cute, but I'm not being friendly.]" He turned over in the air, slowly, onto his back, looking upwards at her briefly.

"[+goldenrod You smell like you're about to burst at any moment and I'm not interested in seeing that. I don't like my food pickled,]" the vampire said, floating back away from her and alighting delicately on his feet again.

Putting his hands in his pockets, the vampire shrugged, shifting the tucked scarf at his throat, puffed like a jabot. He glanced over his shoulder, "[+goldenrod [i Au revoir], pickle girl.]"
  Profile Storage / Tweedy / 193d 15h 45m 11s
The first contact surprised Ilvana. Yes she had made the decision to rush and shove him into the ground, but even then a part of Ilvana's mind doubted she'd be able to. Even though ΔT between the yelling and rushing was small, those few milliseconds would have been enough to prepare a defense against a bullrush. And considering that the guy in front of her, even though he hadn't confirmed it, most likely was a vampire which meant his reaction skills were through the roof.

Despite the surprise Ilvana smiled as she crashed down atop him, hoping to pin him to the ground. It was at this moment she knew she fucked up; Not pinning him fast enough led to another surprise, an unpleasant one this time.

As soon as the jolting vibration of hitting against the ground began its travel Ilvana loosely felt, due to inebriated senses, arms all around her. The chilly night air seemed to vanish from her chest, replaced with a warm cylindrical object, the arm, while another uneven blocky object pressed against her back. And faster than one could snap Ilvana saw stars, literal, shiny, blinking stars against the cloudless, charcoal black sky.

Seconds later Ilvana felt the pain. It wasn't your typical sharp, pointing pain, but more of slow spreading tender pain. Because the landing had happened across the entire back instead of a single area the pain wasn't as bad, the alcohol a helpful addition, but the impact caused muscles to tense. To the groaning added curling into the fetal position while rolling around onto her right side. Ilvana's sharp breathes, few seconds pause between each one, blasted white clouds into the night air, acknowledging she'd fucked up and had been tossed like a ragdoll.

Based on the snarling voice she'd managed to merely piss him off, which meant she had somehow surprised him. Ilvana's mind turned from thinking about the pain to attempting to answer the [i "but how?"] question. Ilvana already made up her mind that the person whom she was dealing with was a vampire, which meant that the super-heightened senses should've kicked in the moment she'd rushed in and not after the tackling. The only answer left was distraction, but why would a vampire be distracted by leaving?

Ilvana froze, her stomach quickly folding up into the chest. He had bent over, gazing deep into her eyes. She meekly nodded her head to his [+orange "Overcome?"], totally defenseless and open to being sucked dry. Helpless prey in front of the predator.

Another surprise, another good surprise. He made the choice of letting her walk home and take the time to sober up and think. Ilvana unclenched, drawing in a deep breath to make up for not breathing during the entire time.

She slowly uncurled, leaning part of the weight onto her hands while moving the feet into a position to stand up. The time taken to stand dragged out into two long minutes, complete with shivering, acid reflux burps, a few near tumblings, and a lot of groaning, but eventually Ilvana managed to stand up on her lightly shaking knees and brush herself off. Only now looking at him did she his reverently floating figure, evoking not surprise but a friendly, chuckling smile. Deciding to save as much honor as possible, [+purple "Not an ideal first impression.. My name is Ilvana by the way.."], her right hand trembling as she moved it slowly up and forwards, stopping it two feet away from him
  Ilvana Sprat / NorthernWolves / 215d 18h 32m 1s
[right [pic]] Oliver felt his soft grin slide wider, into a sneer as he saw her double over and get sick. But the feeling was tainted with the disgust that followed. Was she going to be [i sick]? That was certainly one of the things that he was certainly pleased that he didn't deal with anymore.

He stepped back again, slipping his hands back into his pockets, and gave a little 'hmph' of a laugh that was halfway out of his mouth when the woman in front of him screamed. And not a fearful, submissive sound; it was an angry noise that froze him for just a moment as she threw herself towards him.

Oliver, for all intents and purposes, was so shocked that he actually felt her bodyweight slam against him for a moment and take him to the ground. But once he was there, as [i soon] as he smelt that sickly, acrid breath tinged legitimately with stomach acid now, he flipped. Rather, he flipped her. One arm braced against her, his forearm against her torso, fingers closing in her shirt front. Oliver, with preternatural strength behind it, he flipped her off of him; depositing her with a finality on her back next to him on the ground with a disgusted grunt, disposing of her nearby on her side or back. There, his hand released her immediately, wringing it.

The man sat himself up, brushing off his leather and velvet coat. It was a [i nice] coat. Expensive. He sneered, teeth bared. He had no time to hide them behind a cleverly slanted smile, no mind to keep them away.

"[+goldenrod Ugh, puh-[i leaze] don't tell me you just tried to tackle me,]" he snarled, adjusting his coat on himself with a huff.

With that he let himself get light. To Oliver, that was the feeling, controlling himself beyond what gravity did, letting the air feel as if thick, buoyant water. His body left the ground as if picked up by strings and he floated- yes, floated, levitated. He let himself float upright, brushing his coat down and tugging it properly down at his hips.

He brought himself over Ilvana, bending almost upside down* with a mean sneer on his face.

"[+goldenrod Overcome?]" he teased. "[+goldenrod I know. I have that effect on people.]"

"[+goldenrod Go home. Sober up. Think about this. I'll be in your dreams, won't I?]" he let his voice fall, scraping the bottom of his register with a self-satisfied look.

"[+goldenrod [i Ooooh~]]" he wiggled his fingers a bit, chuckling.

[right [size10 *like, if you've seen Adventure Time, or like seen art of the character Marcelline or Marshall Lee they just kinda lazily float around
  Profile Storage / Tweedy / 219d 17h 27m 56s
Books and movies, they were practically the same thing. Yes movies included things such as sounds and a beautiful visual, but those were the only differences. Movies never created original content, they merely reflected a book. It did not matter the book, the book could be the first bible for all she cared, which meant that any movie including vampires inevitably 'stole' from a book.

No doubt this argument was a minor one given the current situation, but an intoxicated state literally skewed everything.

His words, like himself, prayed on her, him physically attempting while the words mentally and slowly sucked all hope. This whole situation, not a single drop of normalcy. Only the unnatural pumped through the veins and arteries of the current events, a feeling which Ilvana was unprepared for. On the one hand he was correct. How could she be sure of anything given her intoxicated state, how could she tell the indeed from the not-indeed while all her senses were skewed?

Ilvana's upper half lurched, her extended hand automatically forming into a cup while moving up to cover her mouth. A beer flavored acidic tinge filled her mouth for a while, the stress causing an attempt by the stomach to eject its contents. The first few times getting intoxicated Ilvana had let her stomach ejects its contents out her mouth, but after awhile she learned to control these rebellious acts of her stomach. Not only did that aid in preventing a mess, but it also preventing splashing some bystander by accident like in this situation.

Excuse him to where? His words began to build a fiery fury inside her, he wasn't helping at all unless making the situation more confusing counted as help. But then Ilvana noticed his facial expression, arched brows with a curling, teasing smile. He truly thought all of this was amusing, maybe for him but completely the opposite for her.

And then the walls holding back the fury burned down. Ilvana yelled a guttural shrieking sound, bull rushing him in an attempt to pin him to the ground and get some grounded answers from him.
  Ilvana Sprat / NorthernWolves / 232d 18h 22m 21s
[right [pic]] Oliver's mouth was twisted down, pressed hard as if it would keep the scent away from him better. He backed up as she approached him.

She cut their proximity with a pointed finger, the vampire's hands inching towards raising out of habit, noting the focus it took to keep her wavering hand directed at him. Sighing, the side of his hand dismissed it away from him, lowering his hands.

Thos ehands ultimately ended up in his pockets as the woman went about trying to piece together the science behind a vampire. He did have to smirk at that, letting his head tip to the side.

"[+goldenrod I don't do explanations, I'm afraid.]" he said with a smile carefully crafted to hide any fang. It was something you learned, how to curl your lips just so that it wasn't obvious. Smoothed over many situations.

"[+goldenrod And movies,]" he corrected with a nod to her, one hand slipping out of his pocket to gesture, pointing back at her briefly. His smile was gone, but not departed. In his eyes, amusement danced. Oliver had dark eyes, for as light as his hair was. Brown.

"[+goldenrod Beyond that,]" the man said, nodding to the side and stepping closer to the foul-breath, trying to stay clear of it as best he could, but only partially successful. "[+goldenrod How are you so sure of what you saw?]"

No one could hold polite conversation and save themselves from bad breath. That was a part of the pretense of socializing, wasn't it? Intimate closeness. Mercifully for him, however, his subject hadn't thrown up at all tonight. At least not yet. The ugly sweetness of stomach acid and alcohol wasn't something he was keen on experiencing. And the longer he lingered, he knew, the better his chances of experiencing it.

But, as he prepared to depart, Oliver arched his brows to her. How [i did] she know? A smile curled at his lips again, teasing. "[+goldenrod Now, if you'll excuse me...]" He stepped back.
  Profile Storage / Tweedy / 245d 1h 36m 33s
The silver cross itself contained no conscious entity within, it had naught a care whether its wearer lived or had their mortal coil snipped. Even if the cross had a conscious, why would it care if the bearer became a sneaky, late midnight snack for vampires. The vampires would dare not touch it, they dared not risk a slow, corroding torture, even for a millisecond.

Unlike the cross, despite the intoxicated state, Ilvana still was a conscious entity who for the moment desired to leave without a scratch. Maybe [i without a bite] was more case specific, despite the intentional bad pun it would make, but Ilvana still hadn't accepted that these masculine beings were indeed vampires.

Now if this had been a joke there soon would be a punchline, a bloodsucking punchline but a punchline nonetheless following Ilvana's asinine defensive posture.

But the biting, neck tearing punchline never lunged forth, instead it was purposefully misdirected. The cross' whistling incrementally quieted into nothingness as the guys turned their attention in the opposite direction. Ilvana attempted following their gaze, curious as to what brought this distraction. Was that shadowy figure reality or a figment of an alcoholic imagination? Even the words, which steadily flew like a fog over a lake, were hard to understand, both the meaning and their source of origin.

Too late, much too late for sneaking off. Only when the moment of lateness suddenly appeared did Ilvana even think of using this god-sending distraction for sneaking off. Only when she felt the strong and sturdy yet soft embrace of a practiced dancer swinging her off of her feet was their even a minute motion to sneak away.

Now, a curious thing about reality perception and the speed of the intoxicated person. This was an inverse relationship; as the speed of the intoxicated person increases reality seems to slow down, and vice-versa where the speed of an intoxicated person decreases reality seems to slow down. It all had to do with alcohol slowing down a person's reaction due to it being a depressant, the slower something moved the more time one had to react to it with the vice-versa holding true as well.

The run turned into a linear blur, the surrounding environment melding into an orb which slowly changed colours except the darkness of the night, the blackness of a raven the only constant in this change. While the eyes gave a beholding feast to the brain, the rest of the body offered not even a minute complaint. Only did the stomach detect something, a slight motion of its acidic liquid sloshing around but not enough to send the brain a complaint ticket.

And as quickly as she had been picked, no that wouldn't work. Being put back down, at least the perception of it, definitely had to be faster. Not only was her body swung back vertically to firmly stand on her two somewhat unsteady legs, Ilvana found her right arm, the one grasping the silver cross, forced away from both their bodies while completely straightened out. And to top it all of the feeling of an uneven rough surface crumpling her clothes to press against her spinal chord.

Stuck in this awkward position, Ilvana could only helplessly watch as her ex-savior 'saviored' his prey. Her breath haggared, more irregular and spreading the unsavory alcoholic smell faster. Solely because of the intoxication did this guy push her into the tree, causing a small jolt of discomfort from the bark knuckling the spinal chord, and then complaining his food being not up to par.

Ilvana pushed herself away from the tree, the arm holding the cross going down to the tree and using it as a crutch for her unstable stance. Raising her other hand and pointing it at him her slurred voice came out. [+purple "Wait, you do you have some uuhh explaining to do."] This guy had to be like the others, which meant that he also was a vampire. [+purple "Vampires can't physically exist..."] In all this craziness, Ilvana's mind raced down the chemistry knowledge highway, speedily searching for some mental solace. [+purple "Wait"], dropping her pointed hand and then raising it to her aching head, [+purple "skin paleness. Explanation, exists one. Erythropoietic protoporphyria. That, it that causes pale skin with a very severe extreme case of skin being burned alive. So, yeah...."]

For Ilvana it made partial sense, she managed to scientifically explain one of the vampire's identifiers. But the fangs, speed, she couldn't explain that. [+purple "Impossible though, vampires only exist in books...."], more to herself in a mumbled breath. But as she thought about her own words, vampires had existed in various mythologies. But still, those were books on mythology, mythology wasn't science.
  Ilvana Sprat / NorthernWolves / 254d 3h 1m 58s
[left [pic]] Watching, soon, grew tiresome. Especially as the sluggish pace of a heart inundated with a depressant such as alcohol sped now with fear. Physically speaking, when it did that, it almost became a blush of phantom taste in the mouth, he had found. Likely some hungry anticipatory response, like any food would once have done for him.

The issue here with asserting himself was numbers. He was older than these vampires, but was he quicker? Was he smarter? He certainly liked to think so, but self-image versus actual skill was always was in something of a dissonance, it seemed.

It didn't seem wise. It didn't seem sound. But they seemed to be simply playing with her, and Oliver was out to hunt. That was the plan. They were fooling around with touching her and teasing, and he wanted to eat. He wanted to eat her.

Swallowing, he felt his gaze focus a bit on her and pulled them away, keeping mindful of the others surrounding her. But. Alas. The energy one vampire emitted was almost like a scent. Others noticed. Prey at times noticed, that whole survival instinct deep down hard wired into a creature. And it snapped like static in the air.

Oliver noticed one pair of eyes catching him standing just out of the reach of the sodium light, watching. He nudged another with his elbow, low voices and 'hey, dude-' followed by a gesture.

To outside eyes, namely to anyone in that field with a normal amount of night vision, not a vampire's; he was little more than a tall figure in a long coat with pale hair and glimmering eyes. Like an animal's, simply reflecting the light.

[right [pic]] He recognized attention was on him and swallowed, stepping forward once. His throat felt like it was trembling, but it was in that almost nauseous, starved way. He could feel his mouth watering.

His eyes kept flickering back to the redhead, sliding his gaze back over the others.

"[+goldenrod Are you going to just play with her?]" he swept his gaze again; wary. He wanted to see them move before they got too close. "[+goldenrod Or are you going to go pack hunt something else?]"

They started to turn more fully towards him when Oliver realized something. [i He didn't have to win this with brute force.] His thoughts had been all on numbers and fighting and... he really didn't need to. An internal sigh at his brutishness, and as that occurred to him, he felt a rush of adrenaline, of 'eureka'.

And so, in the blink of a human eye, a very inebriated human eye, he was before her and then his weight came against her, sweeping her from her wide stance in the middle of the pack of vampires. Ilvana was seized around the middle with long-fingered hands and strong arms and whisked away somewhere else.

His hold was firm, not painful, but when the line of his body initially came in contact with her the strength behind those undead limbs was hinted at. In the way a cat's claws flex softly into you and then retract when they're perched on your lap, for that moment you can feel just the verge of what could turn into painful, and then it's gone. His hold was arresting for a moment, but he didn't intend on squishing her. Oliver wanted things intact. Wanted her intact.

And suddenly they were somewhere dark, but smelled of grass and trees and breeze. It sang through the canopy over them as a breath huffed out of the chest of the man who had picked her up like she was nothing. And it wasn't like he had flown, no, she recalled the sensation of motion, of a lot of motion of- and it all suddenly occurred to her stomach that it had been jostled a bit, catching up slower like her mind did. She didn't need to know that Oliver let her- forget his sort of mad dash away from the newly dead that included a scramble over a fence. Easy enough mind trick, if taxing.

Oliver's breath hissed, feeling the impending temperature of the silver nearing his skin. Even through his coat he could feel it. Grabbing the arm that she clumsily had that stupid cross in, he pushed it away from him. He placed his hand just below the bend in her elbow so that the arm straightened and she couldn't move it toward him.

The hunger felt like it was tangible now, like it was something reaching out of him. He inhaled softly through his parted lips and teeth, and nose. One of those full breaths, relieved, taking the air. But he was smelling her aliveness so close to him.

"[+goldenrod Goodness you're sauced,]" he breathed on the exhale as eyes, drowning deep, made a pass over her. It was a croon. Soft, teasing, his eyes reached for hers to see how glazed they were. He held her gently against the tree trunk she could feel against her back. He wanted to take a look at what he was eating first. At who.

He caught the scent of a rotten, haggard pant from the woman, the specific tang of tequila on her breath. And it brought with it a very human feeling. Revulsion. That bodily reminder of when you almost died drinking that much, when you are anywhere near that alcohol, or the scent of a food you had that gave you poisoning. A bodily, dry heaving response. Even now.

Oliver pushed her away with a sound of disgust, "[+goldenrod Good god, are you serious? Ugh.]" he pushed his fingers over his mouth, the web of his thumb settling over his mouth, the other on his hip. "[+goldenrod You know what, never mind. I'll find something else.]" Rotten luck. And after he went to all this effort for an easy meal, he supposed it was only fair.
  Profile Storage / Tweedy / 272d 16h 36m 58s

All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.

Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our
Privacy Policy, Terms of Service and Use, User Agreement, and Legal.