dushasoul
Making a name for themselves.
Posts: 71
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Post by dushasoul on Mar 6, 2013 17:45:48 GMT -7
Anya moved quietly placing herself apart from the rest, but only just slightly. Van Helsing's long coat still draped over her arms, her bag nestled near her feet. She leaned against the edge of a table and listened to the others talk. She'd noticed one of the female's watch her as she re-entered the room and thought perhaps she'd completely overdressed. But she couldn't let that bother her a bit. After all, the Frenchman still out-fancied her attire.
Anya shifted her bright, blue eyes in the hunter's direction as he spoke to the others. She swallowed realizing once again that the strange 'friendship' she'd managed to make with Carl, was shattered now. Though she didn't regret saving his life. The two women in the room seemed passive at the moment, which was more than Anya could say for the haughty, brat of a man with blonde curls. Anya swallowed again, clearing her throat and stepped forward a few feet. "As you have stated, Miss Anne, it is understandable that you would distrust these two men. I myself would in your place as well. However, we all have the same goal at this moment, do we not? Those...'creatures' were not something I'd wish to meet again. The hideous twisting of our natural being...the unruly terrorizing of the citizens of this town. It all should stop." Anya's gaze crossed over each face in the room. She wasn't sure what she'd said would be supported but she felt it necessary to say. Her eyes fell lastly upon Carl, her expression soft. "And as for you, dear monk. I myself can assure your safety if Van Helsing cannot. Though I doubt you've really much reason to believe me." Anya's lips curled into a tiny smile. Louis’ eyes narrowed as the feeling, of other creatures such as himself, seemed to grow faster than he’d expected. He stopped in his tracks, releasing Astrid’s elbow and cocked his head to one side. He could hear a dull hum fast approaching, growing louder until he could distinguish the sound as dozens of beating wings and inhuman shrieks. One look at Astrid told him that she could hear the same thing. The girl looked frightened though she hid it very quickly. It seemed she understood the danger of such a large swarm passing their way. “I fear something is fast approaching. Please stay inside, milady.” Louis turned quickly and threw open the door stepping back outside. The sky had darkened suddenly. Thick gray clouds discouraged the morning sun’s rays. He hurried to the center of the street and stood, searching for the source of the vile sound. His sensitive ears turned his attention skyward. Eyes widening, Louis breathed in the stench of the strange vampire children. His senses were confused, they were vampire, but not. He couldn’t quite understand what his eyes, ears and nose were telling him. “You will all perish!” A shrill, female voice screamed almost in Louis’ ear a fraction of a second before he felt a solid mass collide into his back. He hadn’t had time enough to react and found himself on the ground, struggling to remove the enraged female from his back. He cried out as long talons ripped into his shoulder. Before the next strike he was able to roll onto his torn back and shove up both arms, blocking the wild fury of talons and teeth.
Astrid hurried from the inn, her eyes wide. Her vision snapped to the man pinned to the ground, a flurry of fabric and hair seemed to be slashing at him. The young French-woman wasn’t able to discern what had happened. She barely had sensed the vampires at all before hearing the horrible shriek in the empty town. She bit her lip, drawing blood from one side. What should I do? Should I help this man I barely know? Risk my life for some stranger who very well could have just been deceiving me? The thoughts swirled in her head. She had no reason to trust Louis, yet he’d been so kind to her, without any reason. She clenched both fists at her sides then darted towards him, only to be met with a swarm of horrific, gray bodies and amongst them flashes of green.
Astrid’s first instinct was to scream but the sound caught in her throat as a face emerged inches from hers. The pale skin and ebony hair were strikingly beautiful, in an evil sort of way. Verona’s fierce anger seemed to roll off her like water as she lashed out towards Astrid. The younger tried to dodge away but knocked into seemingly countless obstacles. The swarm of vampire children dove in and out scratching and clawing at her as she fought to move.
Not far away, Louis heard the swarm and second woman as they attacked his temporary companion. Why the sudden violence found them, he didn’t know. Instinct moved his arms and muscles for him as he fought the woman atop him. One good strike with his leg sent her flying backward and Louis was on his feet in an instant. He could hear the wild fury around Astrid, the shrieks and cries of the gray children as they moved in and out. Even with his keen sense of sight, he couldn’t tell how many there were. The bodies were all moving too fast for him to know what arm belonged to what body. Without a second thought he launched himself into the fray, slamming into several of the small bodies filled with teeth and nails. His senses were overloaded as he fought desperately to get through to the center where he had last seen Astrid’s smaller form. He threw his arm forward and grasped only a handful of fabric that seemed to rip easily as it vanished from his fingers.
Without another warning the swarm disappeared and soared into the sky. Shrieks and maniacal giggling filled his ears and he turned his bleeding face upward. His eyes widened as a curse forced through his breath. Two large, white creatures clashed and collided into each other tearing at a third body between them. Terrified and agonized screams burned his ears at each attack until finally the sounds stopped. Pieces of the body fell as the swarm of vampire children circled around it gnawing on what they could snatch from the air. Then, as suddenly as they’d all appeared, they swarm and it’s mothers disappeared, letting the remnants of bloody, tattered cloth and bits of flesh and bone fall to the ground.
Louis’ heart seemed to collapse inside his chest at the sight. That had once been Astrid. Now…the girl had been reduced to almost nothing in mere minutes. He slowly stumbled forward, his own wounds starting to heal. There was nothing left worth burying as he knelt down next to the barely familiar fabric. He felt a pain shoot through his entire body as the memories of Claudia burned through him. He’d been helpless to help this poor girl, just as he’d been helpless for Astrid. His human emotions took over him, wracking his body with the pain of memory and utter despair. He’d barely known the French girl, yet it seemed as though he’d cared for her a long time. Yet…fate wouldn’t allow him that pleasure. Destiny had taken yet another companion from him in a horrible way. In a way that they would never be returned to him.
Shaking, Louis stood, the tattered bit of cloth in his hands. Doors opened behind him, voices filling the empty streets. A woman shrieked at the sight of him, a man slammed open his door, carrying a club, another a bolt of fire. It seemed the humans of the town knew what those creatures were, and assumed he was one of them. Though in some aspects they were right. Louis clenched the cloth tightly in his hand and turned towards the pathway closest to him. His muscles tightened and in an instant he was running, faster, faster, a desperate sob clenching his chest tightly. The horrible reality slammed into him with each step as he put the town and it’s people behind him in an instant. He ran without thought to where he was headed until he reached the next town. Also, devoid of people at the early hour, he could tell it had been ransacked by the same swarm.
Louis stopped, sniffing at the air, catching the scent of blood and sweat and…something else. Something familiar. The vampire couldn’t stop his body from moving forward towards the scent. His mind wasn’t thinking for itself and neither was his heart. Only old instinct drove him as he approached the inn and pressed his hands against the door. The clouds were clearing and the sun started to shine in parts of the town. He could hear voices inside and thought perhaps he would turn back. But even before the thought had finished, his hands had pushed open the door and he stepped inside, standing in the doorway. He was silent as he looked at each of the members inside until his eyes rested on the blonde, French-man.
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on Mar 12, 2013 10:14:01 GMT -7
Carl looked around uneasily. He’d never talked to a vampire before—if you discounted Anya and his awkward travels—and suddenly a whole cast of them was looking at him as if his opinion mattered. “I… I can’t say I trust you people.” He spoke up, his eyes casting around for some comfort. “Even you, Anya. You… saved me, yes? But you’re a monster like the rest.” The usually kind monk let these words slide off his tongue with very little guilt. They all seemed comfortable with each other, and why not? They were all the same—at least in his eyes. But there could be no discounting of his background: Carl was a monk. A man of the church who believed that these creatures were to be killed. Not just the ‘unnatural’ ones like Dracula’s spawn. ALL of them. His scared faced turned to Van Helsing. “I will help you, since that’s my job right now…. But you’d better give me a better answer than that your reasons are your own. I’m not some vampire who for some reason you’re sparing. I’m a man of God, like you. You work for the church like I do. I will….” His voice wavered as he held a threat of reporting the hunter on the tip of his tongue. But it stayed there. The monk stopped himself from ranting further, touched the cross at his chest, and let his anger and fear go a little, “Never mind.” He ended instead. “I will stay and help you, and you will give me your reasons.” He ended with a statement, not leaving an inch for the hunter to argue, before being silent again and watching the group of creatures. He noticed the door open and another face pop in. But Jinx didn’t notice the new stranger at first. She continued to twirl the glamoured rod across her fingertips. Faster and faster it went, venting her frustration at these proceedings. The woman in outlandish apparel assumed everyone had the same cause, suddenly Anne was ready to puppy dog after the others in some attempt to be helpful, and the hunter was as close lipped as ever, giving no reason for anyone else to follow him but expecting that they would. She slowly let the glamour fade and rested her fretting hand on the table she stood next to. The more these people talked the more she wanted to run. Let the voice in her mind guide her far away into invisibility again. Her eyes flashed to the door, although her feet stayed where they were. She felt grounded, as if she SHOULD stay. Ought to stay. Had to stay. But that voice…. So soothing.... As she looked to the door, the new figure caught her eye as it had the monk’s. He wasn’t human either.
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Post by Mother of Dragons on Mar 13, 2013 9:29:26 GMT -7
“Carl, I understand how you feel,” Van Helsing conceded, nodding slowly. “I must point out that the Vatican would not have sent you out in the field if they did not feel your well-being would be taken care of by myself; they trust my decisions.” He paused and glanced around him. The hunter wanted to share more details with Carl. In fact, the human monk was the only person in the Inn that he felt would understand where he was coming from, but bringing up the topic of fortune and fate, coupled with a vampiric telling, wasn’t what he wanted to do in front of all his new companions. Later, he thought resolutely. When the two of us normal, Christian folk are alone, I’ll tell him what he wants to know… now I have to figure out how to say it all.
Van Helsing kept his eyes on Anya when she spoke. The voice that came out of the tiny, delicate girl’s body was much more mature, melodic, and well-worded than he would expect. Her new attire fit her perfectly, and for some reason he found himself unable to ask for his trench coat back; yes, he knew she was a monster, one that had apparently tricked poor Carl, but she appeared as an innocent child in his over-sized coat, and that calmed his nerves a little. Van Helsing knew better than to trust in physical appearances, but he took the fact that this girl looked like a girl and not a blood-hungry monster as a trust of good faith. The words “faith” and “monster” in the same sentence almost made him laugh out loud. Her comments about the true form and line of her kind were ones he did not understand; to the hunter, all vampires were the same, only varying in age and unholy ruthlessness, yet… he’d seen the way Anne spoke, so lovingly, about her missing other half, how Jinx poked and prodded him like an endearing school teacher with his best interests at heart, how this Anya appeared to be so serene and fairly regal… and they all killed, all drank blood, all did things that were considered evil and wrong by the European, Christian world. Yet there seemed to be a line between these creatures and Dracula, one that was being defined even clearer in his head each day as he recalled the Vampire Seeress’ fortune…
“The same goal,” Anne echoed, though she wasn’t completely in agreement with the statement Anya had made. “I suppose that makes sense…”
“Let me get this straight, s'il vous plait,” Lestat chimed in casually. “The most notorious, dangerous monster hunter in Europe wants to gain the assistance of a band of misfit vampire to help defeat this Lord Dracula and his brides? What’s in it for you, I wonder?” He glanced at the women around the room, pale eyebrows delicately raised. “Compared to myself, this mock-king you speak of is lowly trash; there are others, even, I know that are much more powerful and respectable. Surely the hunter can handle scrap like this on his own?”
“There is a reason this vampire lord is a danger to my people!” Van Helsing snapped angrily, standing from his chair abruptly, the rotting old legs grating across the dirty floor. “Dracula has terrorized innocents for centuries, and the Vatican has not been able to capture or eliminate him because-”
“Because you don’t know who you really are?” Lestat cut in smoothly, his grey eyes flashing to a vibrant, deep gold. He bit his lower lip at the tension in the room, showing pointed fangs that amplified his mischievous grin. “You, Gabriel van Helsing, are lost, and your church cannot help you, cannot provide you with salvation. And you yearn to know the secrets of your past, the sins you committed that somehow were so horrible that they condemned you to a lifetime of hunting creatures you don’t understand. Now the tables are turning, oui? This town-”
“Enough!” Van Helsing shouted, pulling a blessed blade from a hidden pocket. He pointed and leveled the weapon at the vampire perched smugly on the bar. “You will not taunt me to anger, de Lioncourt. Stupid French bastard-”
The Inn’s front door swung open at that moment, and everyone turned to look at the newcomer. Lestat rotated his head last, eyes still flashing yellow. Then his jaw dropped: for just a moment, a heartbeat, a half-second of his immortal life, Lestat let awe show on his face. The man’s name was on the tip of his tongue, nestled deep in the center of his chest, surrounded by a cage of thick, hard ice. He snapped his mouth closed and glided gently down from the bar, drawing himself up to his full height. Taking one step forward, silence taut in the common hall of the Inn, he used all his effort to put a serene, nonchalant smile on his face.
“Quelle surprise,” he murmured in French, then cleared his throat, gathering himself as quickly as possible. “My dear, sweet, darling Louis… where have you been?” Lestat rushed forward to the door, arms outstretched, waiting to see what his former companion would do or say. He was rather unpredictable, but to Lestat, right now, nothing else existed in the world: the people, human or no, waiting behind them, the Inn itself, the town’s troubles, the monsters outside the door… none of it mattered, now that this sad, lonely creature had shown up, somehow back in his life after a long, long time of estranged distance.
Behind him, Lestat vaguely heard Anne say, as if in a cloud a hundred miles away: “Monsieur Lestat, do you know this man?”
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dushasoul
Making a name for themselves.
Posts: 71
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Post by dushasoul on Mar 13, 2013 20:50:00 GMT -7
Anya watched the interchange between Van Helsing and the French-man. She restrained herself from saying anything to interrupt them. It seemed that Helsing was having a very hard time surround by the very 'monsters', as he called them, that he hated. She herself never liked the word. It stung everytime someone said it. She was born the way she was, why would they call her that? She couldn't help it. It was the same through history. Humans treated anything they didn't understand as 'wrong' or 'evil'. Of course, with the kind of life a human had, it wasn't too hard to understand. However it didn't take away the sting of the words. Anya's eyes fell to the floor as her thoughts distracted her only to be brought back by the door opening behind her. She turned to see a man enter. His clothes having been ripped and stained with blood. She sucked in her breath a moment then exhaled. "Bednaya dusha..." Anya whispered under her breath. The man was obviously distressed, his face stained with tears and despair. Even she was able to tell having not seen him very long.
Louis tensed watching as Lestat came toward him. His breath, had he really needed any, was taken from him. Could Lestat really be there, coming towards him? Saying his name like he had so many many years ago. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. Of course he looked perfect like he always had. "How could you?" He asked raising a hand to grab hold of Lestat's vest. "That girl was young and inexperienced and you let her just leave? With creatures- monsters like that around here? How could you, Lestat?!" Louis wasn't able to contain himself. His despair and anger bubbling and crashing into each other chaotically. Of course he blamed Lestat. Why not? It was easier than facing the truth. Claudia...Astrid. The two were very different yet to him...the memories were so similar it was hard for him to force them apart. However, no sooner had he lashed out, his eyes wetted again. He forced the tears back and let his hand fall. He looked down at the ground. He never thought his next meeting with Lestat would turn out as such. He knew he would meet the man again, it was inevitable with how long they lived, but he'd never meant it to be like this. Without another thought his head fell forward onto Lestat's shoulder. His was the first face he knew in a long time and with their history he couldn't help but want to seek comfort.
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on Mar 15, 2013 16:12:29 GMT -7
Jinx rubbed the back of her neck, awkwardly as she watched the new man go from rage at Lestat to crying on his shoulder. This room was already pushed to the breaking point of unease and the new member seemed to have his own dispute with the French man. In an attempt to diffuse a little of the tension, she opened her mouth. “Eh, excuse us? Who are you?” She spoke up, “Is this a lovers quarrel or something?” Carl’s body relaxed a bit at Van Helsing’s assurances and he nodded. He did trust the man, even if he was confused and upset. And he was even calming down his fear a little bit of Anya. A little tiny bit, but still, you could not keep an avid fear of the woman. She was too small and sweet looking. And even if he wanted to see her as a big bad monster, the way she spoke about Dracula’s kind as “hideous twisting of our natural being”, he could not pretend to mishear her as evil. The new man who walked in startled him further as he went to the loud French man who seemed the most dangerous or at least outspoken. The vampire woman who made an inappropriate comment about lovers (who Carl remembered had been complretly unhelpful when they were being attacked) earned herself a glare from the monk. Unhelpful and snide were not things they needed at the moment, didn’t she know that? He looked to Van Helsing for a que for what to do.
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Post by Mother of Dragons on Mar 16, 2013 7:52:35 GMT -7
Lestat tensed at the physical connection, keeping his face impassive. He resisted the urge to slap Louis’ hand away from his vest and straightened the creased, rumpled fabric before it set in such an inappropriate manner. Accusations were typical from this old friend of his, full of guilt and a heavy conscious that made Lestat roll his eyes and sigh every time. Yet… who was he speaking about so passionately? That girl, he thought, eyebrows narrowing slightly as he tried to reason who Louis meant. Ah, Je l'ai eu! I’ve got it: Mademoiselle Astrid D’arque. If he met her, they can’t have known each other long… so why does he care so much if she couldn’t hold her own? Oh, damn. I understand… you poor, tortured creature. The Brat Prince stopped his vindictive thoughts when Louis’ eyes began to tear; he knew that look, had seen it so many times, directed at his shameless, heartless self for some ill action or another. Frustration accompanied this damned Frenchman more than Lestat could stand; the idea of hearing about theology, right from wrong, death from life, punishment and reckoning all with that sad, pleading face that begged for salvation that Lestat himself had made impossible… it set his teeth on edge just thinking about it! Tears, it’s always tears with him, for the devil’s sake. Hell take and burn that stupid, stubborn girl for torturing my child so.
As Louis’ head dropped to his shoulder, Lestat put up a tentative hand. He cleared his throat, aware of the stares behind to two of them, standing in the doorway. “Come, now,” he said quietly, not caring to respond to Anne’s question. Lestat wrapped a gentle, casual arm around Louis’ shoulder and led him inside a few steps, the door shutting quietly. “We’ll talk about such things later.”
He had a sudden urge, then, to whip the two of them around and just disappear; he could do it, whirl Louis and himself off into the shadows of the night, close his eyes and have them appear somewhere better, alone, safe… France, Bulgaria, Africa, America… it didn’t matter. These people were intriguing, yes, and their cause was one he felt like seeing through, but this was Louis de Pointe de Lac! His twisted child, his melancholy lover, his eternal burden of sorrow. Think, Lestat. You can mold them all to your whim. Make them all dance, that’s it; speak honey till it flows in their blood… it makes the kill so much sweeter.
“How many more are you expecting, monsieur? I think this Inn’s monster capacity has reached its limit.”
Lestat’s snapped his gaze to the hunter when he spoke, eyes a fierce gold. His hands clenched as he controlled his hot temper, fingers digging into Louis’ back. “How dare you speak such degrading terms in my presence? I am the Brat Prince, the master of darkness, the lord of silk and lace! The devil himself fears me! Hell, I AM the devil, you filthy, lowly-”
“Lestat, surely fighting with Master van Helsing won’t help our cause,” Anne cut in, standing from her chair. She curiously watched this newcomer, then bent at the waist and made a perfect, proper French courtesy in introduction. She wanted to giggle a little at Jinx's comment, but judging by the reaction of the monk, such a move may draw even more anger into the room. It was clear that this stranger knew Lestat, and from the way they spoke so quietly, touched so familiarly, it was clear to see they had quite the past. Anne had no idea how old Lestat was, but how he spoke and acted gave her the impression he was ancient. None of them knew much about each other yet, now that she thought on it. At the moment, keeping these people from slashing throats before they even set out on their task was important.
“Oui, bien sûr,” Lestat agreed smoothly, though he did not look to Anne; his brilliant eyes were locked on the hunter, who stared back evenly without a tint of fear. “We have much to talk about still, and the children… ah, excuse me, the humans are tired, I am sure. It would be best if you and your monk went upstairs and prayed.”
Van Helsing ground his teeth for a moment, not moving. Feeling Jinx staring at him, he glanced sideways at her and shrugged his shoulders, as if saying, "even if I did want to make a move, how outnumbered am I?" The hunter wanted to stay and interrogate this newcomer; he did not trust anyone, especially another vampire, and sleeping while they all palavered down here made his skin crawl. Yet he had already proclaimed some of those present as friends, companions in an equal cause, and demonstrating such would surely build their bonds for when another dangerous fight came. Besides, he wanted to speak to Carl alone; they would have to be cautious, always alert, ready to dispatch any of these creatures should they prove… unhelpful to their end goal.
“Carl,” Van Helsing muttered under his breath, motioning for the monk to stand with him. He turned back to Lestat and added: “the sun is setting now. You may have your privacy till dawn, then I expect answers. We will leave with or without you at first light.” The hunter marched deliberately up the narrow stairs, the width of his broad shoulders barely clearing the distance between the walls.
Anne sighed as he went, glad that a more violent confrontation between the two hadn’t arisen. She looked back at Lestat and his new friend, noting the way the first kept a protective arm around the latter, hand clenched slightly. A memory came back to her unwillingly, when she and Henry would wander the streets of Milan, blending with the innocent Italian humans: Henry always had an arm around her, either wrapped easily over her shoulders or resting around her waist, comfortably on the band of the poufy, billowing petticoat that made her glide when she walked. Their skin was ice cold, the evening air warm, yet the touch wasn’t for safety or romantic ideals; they had a connection, one between their souls, the very liquid in their veins: master and servant, parent and child— could that be the case? Is that what these two are to each other?
You will be cautious with him, demoiselle. He is my fragile child, and will remain such till the end of time. Do not test the patience of a Prince.[/color] Anne jumped where she stood when Lestat’s voice popped into her head, clear as if he were speaking at a normal volume right next to her ear. The Frenchman was not looking at her, nor did his mouth move, but the emotion in his tone was lucid, and she thought it best to keep her mental musings to a minimum; it was obvious that the past here was covered in bloody bruises, and treading lightly was the smartest choice.[/font][/size]
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dushasoul
Making a name for themselves.
Posts: 71
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Post by dushasoul on Mar 16, 2013 10:28:00 GMT -7
Anya watched the confrontation once again. She smiled slightly at the gentle if not apprehensive comfort the French Vampire gave to his companion. It seemed the "Brat Prince" had a softer side after all. She nearly raised her voice when the vampire and hunter began to fight again but thought better of it. If she played a more 'passive' role amongst them they would be less likely to determine who she was. Quite honestly Anya wasn't sure if it would be a danger to her or not if they knew. Centuries of one vampire after the other coming to try and claim her throne, her life had taught her to keep such a secret just that, a secret.
Anya remembered the heavy coat in her arms and rushed forward as Van Helsing's large boots thumped loudly up the stairs. She held it out easily in one arm, two steps from the lobby floor. "Pozhaluysta, podozhdite, ser!" She first stated in Russian, then realized her mistake and corrected herself with a new phrase. "Van Helsing, your coat?"
Anya waited on the steps below not wanting to draw more aggravation and tension into the inn. She held the coat carefully almost like it had been a precious gift. She smiled gently and took another step up so she could reach him. "I appreciate your kindness having only just met me. It was really quite gentlemanly of you. Thank you."
Anya handed the coat over to it's owner whether he had been ready to take it or not and leapt lightly from the stairs landing on one foot and rotating full circle before she walked back into the center of the room where the rest of 'her kind' were standing. She noticed the tension between Lestat and the younger vampire Anne and reminded herself to keep her mental walls intact while with this group of vampires.
Louis, had he been human, would have cringed at the polished nails digging into his back but at the moment he didn't really care. His mind was busy waring with itself as to his actions with Lestat. Had he really treated the man just like he used to? And so easily stepped back into his life after avoiding him for so long? He attempted to step to the side, the close proximity confusing his emotions and intentions more. He admitted he was glad to see a familiar face, someone who wouldn't turn and run from his existence. Yet it had been Lestat also who set his life into chaos. Ending his mortality in a way Louis never had intended at all, thus damning him to eternity on the Earth. He noticed for the first time, exactly how many other vampires surrounded them and he steeled meeting each one's face. One liked he and Lestat to a lover's quarrel and another seemed to almost agree. Then the young looking, tiny girl. Who was she exactly? Where did she come from? She was different from the rest, any vampire could tell if they paid enough attention.
She had a grace about her that seemed more defined by the language Louis assumed was her most native. Had that been Russian? That might explain why the girl seemed to prefer a dance in her step. He turned his attention to the other female. Her dress torn to shreds much like his own clothing. She must have met with a creature much like he did. She jumped and looked towards Lestat making it clear to Louis what had occured and he frowned turning his face towards the ground beffore stepping away from the man completely and taking a seat at the nearest table. He sat, his knees apart and his elbows resting upon them. He held his face in his hands, his long hair, having been tossed loose of it's ties, now hung around his head. How could so much have happened and changed in only mere hours?
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on Mar 16, 2013 11:02:37 GMT -7
Carl was on his feet and following the hunter as soon as his name left Van Helsing’s lips. He wanted to get answers and away from this weird congregation. The fight that nearly broke out was enough to tell him they weren’t wanted. Let these creatures figure each other out alone. “Van Helsing,” The monk held out the man’s crossbow which Carl had been clutching to himself during the little meeting they’d just had. He still held the new weapon and reminded himself that despite the chaos around them, he still needed to deliver the new devise and teach Van Helsing how to use it. “Remind me to teach you about this one later.” He spoke up, thinking that he might forget what with all the craziness they’d run into. They found themselves into their room, if you could call it that. The owner of the inn seemed to take as much care of the rooms as he did his bar. But it would do for a night of explanaitions and quick rest. “But for now,” he began again, closing the room’s door behind him and finding a place to set his things. “Let me hear what you’re thinking.”Jinx watched the two humans disappear upstairs and then gazed around the room. She’d been quiet for an unusual amount of time for herself, sans her quip at the newcomer, but she found herself still unsure what to say. So, pushing forward, she started at the only place she could: at the beginning. “So… who is everyone, exactly?” she asked, feeling out of sorts for asking the blunt, simple question. But hell, they hadn’t even exchanged names with everyone. Assumptions were flying and emotions were high. Not to mention she hadn’t forgotten Anne’s hunger before they’d fallen into this town’s trap; she probably wasn’t the only one running low on that red, hot pick-me-up. It was a bad setting for such a meeting, so the basics were probably for the best.
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Post by Mother of Dragons on Mar 16, 2013 12:31:23 GMT -7
The hunter accepted his coat back, surprised as he was by the girl’s kind words. He opened his mouth to reply as he folded the old, dirty leather over his arm, then cleared his throat. Unable to decide what to say, he gave Anya a curt nod and continued up the stairs.
Van Helsing sat on one of the tiny cots in the room with Carl, old, dry straw crunching beneath him in the mattress. He sighed, both at Carl’s words and the uncomfortable thing he’d have to sleep on. His head ached, his body was sore from the fight they’d just barely escaped, and talking at length about something he never wanted to discuss aloud was a grim prospect. Then he glanced up at Carl’s innocent, expectant face and grimaced.
“Carl, you must not speak of this to anyone else,” he began quietly, sure that, somehow, their voices would carry through the walls and down to the creatures below them. “First, I need to tell you that I’ve had… an epiphany.” The word sounded odd coming from his own mouth, and he shook his head in uncertainty. “Last month, I was hunting south of here, and burned a… unique vampire. She spoke to me about my future, a prophecy that is hard to explain. In short, I was told that in order to defeat the monsters, mingling with them may be necessary. They have the natural tools to harm their own kind, and, for a short time, siding with them will be extremely beneficial; Dracula is more than ordinary, and from the small demonstration he gave us today, we can count on more opposition than imaginable. I don't normally agree with such things are the prediction of one's future or fate, but I cannot shake this off. Besides, a couple of them like me, I think." He tried to smile at his last sentence, but failed miserably. He cleared his throat again, thinking on how to continue. Carl was not a fighter, but he was the best the hunter had for a second man. After all, he knew the monk was smart, brilliant, even. His inventions and quick thinking would only be helpful in its own way.
“This is the difficult part: you must be able to accept their ways for now, Carl; they will kill, they will drink blood, they will enjoy it, just like any of their kind. After this is all over, when I have Dracula’s head to bring back to the Vatican… we’ll see what we choose to do with them.” He paused and caught Carl’s eye, his face extremely serious, set as stone. “So don’t get attached; they are monsters. If the time comes, you will help me destroy them all. Can we work together on this, my friend?”
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Lestat listened to Anya as she spoke to the hunter, who was retreating with his tail between his legs. This made the Frenchman smile, a smooth, charming curve of the corners of his mouth that almost passed for a smirk. She acted so sweet, yet as the Brat Prince stared at her further, a sense of unease settled in his stomach. Dread was not a feeling Lestat was used to; in fact, it had been decades since he even remotely knew the emotion. He narrowed his eyebrows at the girl as she moved gracefully back into the center of the room; what was she playing at? When Jinx suggested introductions, his heart leapt with joy at the chance to display himself yet again, shaking off the feeling Anya gave him… somehow it was slightly familiar, but he ignored it, flipping back his golden locks and clearing his throat.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Lestat began, taking a step away from where Louis was seated to make his presence even more apparent. He knew exactly what he was going to say, but it took the Frenchman a moment to actually begin; Louis was right behind him, sitting so sadly, yet… he was still right there, so close. Lestat forgot for just one second that this was real and not a dream. No, he did not need Louis; the man was a drag, a bag of discomfort, always speaking of doom and mortality and the meaning of the human soul… it was enough to kill any buzz. What would it take to shake such notions from the vampire that sat not five feet from him, to make it actually enjoy immortality, the power and sheer bliss of being here forever? Lestat had wanted to share as much with someone for so long, and he’d come close several times, only to have his black, greed heart shattered. What did Louis know of pain, the poor soul that had no one? Surely the Prince himself had more scars, just was smart enough to cover them and bury them properly like any normal soul would. Lestat found himself glancing around the room in the silence, taking in the faces of all those present, breathing deeply, eyes glinting. He found himself wishing he’d brought that violin with him from the Madame’s house, then began:
“Who am I, exactly, is what this dear lady has asked. Of course, such a question can be debated by philosophers and scholars in the future, for after all, we as living beings do not change over time; we only become more fully what we are. This we can all agree on, yes?” He only paused half a heartbeat, spinning in a smooth, perfect circle. Then he continued on: “I know these things because I am Gentleman Death, the lord of darkness, the Brat Prince of France. You needn’t know much more about me… after all, I am an unwilling devil.” He winked, laughing quietly under his breath.
“Umm,” Anne began uncertainly, unsure if it was alright to speak, whether Lestat was finished or not. The vampire proclaimed who he was so often that the long speech was not necessary, slightly annoying, even, but she enjoyed it nonetheless; the way he moved was of a God: his steps were fluid, his clothing and hair perfect, his voice flawlessly warm and inviting. His gestures flowed from prominent to held back, a steady ebb and flow of the clear demonstration of a vampire; he knew his power, flaunted it, abused it, and loved every second of it. Taking it all in, Anne shivered, a chill running down her spine. She needed to speak to this Brat Prince later, when no one else could judge what she wanted to say. Now, though, she stood from her seat and took a small step forward.
“My name is Anne de Lyon, and I’m from Italy, though my family has French roots. My… my lover and I were traveling north to get away from Van Helsing and his kind, when we were separated. I need to find him; he turned me only five years ago; it was a choice I made and do not regret. I’m afraid I still have much to learn, from many like yourselves, I suppose.” She smiled weakly, then steeled herself for how she wanted to finish: “Despite my age, though, I feel that Van Helsing is not a serious threat to me; that is why I decided to travel with him in the first place. I met Jinx at the same time as the hunter, and after I saw how he behaved around her, I thought that his cause is a righteous one to help with… and the devil knows that I need righteousness in my life.” She glanced at Lestat for some reason, feeling that he would object or interrupt at such a statement, but he only stared back at her, arms crossed neatly over his silk vest. “What I mean to say,” Anne continued as strongly as she could, “I will fight to find Dracula, and in the process, find my Henry. I’m fast, and I will keep up. I promise.”
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dushasoul
Making a name for themselves.
Posts: 71
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Post by dushasoul on Mar 16, 2013 13:11:43 GMT -7
Anya's sharp, ice blue eyes flicked towards Jinx as the question was asked. None of them had really tried to figure out who the others were, though they all wondered. Each of them acted and dressed differently. Each were a different age. From different decades it appeared. Anya was the odd one out in several ways. Firstly she had no prior aquaintence with any of the vampires around her. Though it seemed that the two women at least somewhat knew each other. And the men...it was obvious they had a very strong connection and past. Anya thought it over for several moments then shook her head. Vampires were a very different race from humans. Their relationships were stronger, more powerful and lasted centuries. Gender and morality didn't matter as there were far fewer of them and when one has eternity of being on Earth they didn't need to worry about religions or 'the after-life'. Not nearly as much as a human did.
Secondly, Anya was a whole different kind of vampire. All of these had been changed, made into who they were. Anya was born. She was a rare form of vampire, even more so with the lineage of blood that ran through her veins. She had a raw, direct power that the others had to learn, some on their own, others having been taught by their creator or another vampire who happened upon the pitiful, newly born creature. Her eyes shifted around the room waiting for the first response. She herself couldn't tell them who she was, though her name should be enough to quell the questions that may follow.
Louis however had a different set of questions. Who were those two humans? Why were they freely conversing with known vampires? The girl in the torn dress had called him Master Van Helsing. Louis' eyes widened at the thought. Van Helsing...the hunter? What in the world could these vampires be doing with the feared monster hunter from Rome? Why was Lestat here and with other vampires no less? Louis had thought the man preferred to avoid just large groups to keep to himself and his 'princely' ways. He looked up at Lestat's voice filling the room. He half expected the man to claim him as his child, the one whom he 'saved' from the pains of mortality. Yet he didn't. Louis wasn't sure what to think after that. Years ago Lestat had always made it very clear what their relationship was. Things had changed and Louis felt alone amongst the group.
He stood, the chair grating across the dusty wooden floor as he pushed it back. He remained where he was and looked around the room the expectant faces. He could only see Lestat's back, but he knew somehow that the man had an arrogant expression upon his pale face. He pulled at his shirt, parts of it having stuck to his skin as blood dried between. He let out a long breath before he spoke to the group. "I am Louis de Pointe de Lac." Louis started then hesitated, not sure what to say. After such a profound show of arrogance from Lestat and a deepfelt confession from Anne, he felt he had nothing but simple despair to share about himself. He was a simple man, having tried to kill himself but was stopped by Lestat at the last moments of thought. "I also come from France where I...and my wife had lived. Mortal life claimed her early on and I became sick with despair. Being mortal, I had the chance to end all that pain. I would have too, if it were not for a vampire who thought it best to 'rescue' me from mortality."
Again, Louis hesitated. He didn't look anywhere but distantly at the wall behind them. He felt, rather than saw Lestat's expression as he spoke. His mind and his heart fought each other on what to say next for several breaths. Finally he swallowed and erected himself further. His back straightened as he pushed his hair back over his shoulder. "I was reborn of Lestat de Lioncourt." He stated. His eyes peirced through the room as he made eye contact with everyone. None of the others seemed to know where their creator was and he was uncertain how they would react to his words. Though Louis had no reason to hide it. Lestat would clearly make it obvious given the time.
"It is very nice to meet you, Louis." Anya spoke softly and offered the poor man a smile. She then turned and awknowledged the others in the room. It was left to her and to Jinx to introduce themselves. Anya leaned up on her toes then rocked back down twice before beginning her own.
"I hail from the North East of Russia. My...well...those who know me, know that my name is Anya Resnikova." Anya wasn't quite sure how to introduce herself in such a manner as to avoid the sound of being a royal. Though something in her head made her think perhaps to tell them a small bit of truth. As a token of good faith. It was clear that they knew she wasn't quite like the rest of them and Anya thought it better to answer one question to disperse such suspicions. "I am traveling away from my home in order to better understand this world that we live in. Learn about my race and the souls within it. What I've seen so far has been nothing sort of strange and fantastic. I've seen creatures I never knew existed amongst out kind. I suppose remaining in one area most of my life has clouded my view of the Vampire race. But one thing is certain. Most of you have spoken of a creator. A person who 'changed' you into a vampire." Anya's eyes met Anne's then Louis'. She then changed her expression slightly. Despite her height, she seemed to grow as her aura exuded the raw power she possessed within her body as she looked to Lestat, keeping his gaze. She knew he suspected her, after all he'd been very observant despite how much he seemed to love himself. "And some...have noticed that I am not 'created'. I was born."
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