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Post by Mother of Dragons on Feb 5, 2012 10:36:56 GMT -7
Van Helsing chuckled, but the sound was humorless and didn't reach his eyes. So she really doesn't know, even with all these people around us avoiding me like a have the plague... This is interesting. Maybe, if I keep talking, she'll let something slip. And, if she runs... that's the best free opportunity for points with the Vatican. But what if she's...?
He cleared his throat and motioned for the bartender, who rushed over and quickly gave him the shot of whiskey he asked calmly for. Van Helsing didn't notice or care how much the man's hands were shaking when he poured the liquor and handed it to him.
"Then I guess we have nothing to worry about," he replied, one hand on his glass. "What's your name?"
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Lestat clapped his hands happily for a brief moment, relieving the tension that his new acquaintance seemed to just douse the air in. She was intriguing, reminding him a little too much of some people from his past, but he wasn't about to give up so easily. No, he didn't care if she drank, or relaxed at all. The Brat Prince just wanted to hear her story and see if she could be of any use to him.
"Well, you first, mon petit," he insisted, eyeing Astrid up and down while he spoke. "You don't have to be so afraid; it's not becoming of a beautiful creature like yourself. Though... I do have to say one more thing before you answer my questions: do not be ashamed of yourself. You can hate your very soul, every heinous sin you have to commit, every sunrise you miss, every child you cannot have... but do not fall into shame. You must have pride, darling, or the thing you will become, in your despair and anger... let's just say no one will take you out at that point!" He paused for effect, one of his favorite conversation tactics, and then continued swiftly, "Who turned you, Mademosielle D'arque... and why do you want to destroy him so badly?"- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Anne often wondered what exactly had happened to her body over the last five years; after all, there was no medical book or physician she could bother with her unending questions about herself. No, she did not hate what she had become. In fact, when she was with Henry, she really didn’t care what she looked like or even if she was human or not anymore; they did what they had to do to survive, and that was the way fate had planned it. She was in no position to argue.
Neither am I in a position to complain, she thought determinedly one day on her long road north. Anne had been looking for her lost lover for just over five years now, with no luck but a few dead ends from some disdainful, vindictive vampires that purposefully pointed her in the wrong direction. The horse she had stolen in the last town was thankfully saddled and ready to leave when she found him, though she left all the food in his bags back in his owner’s stables; she had no need for it. The rumors all point northwest to Transylvania and the Ukraine, extremely cold, ugly, and dangerous parts of Europe.
“Of course that’s where I’ll find him… them… someone,” she muttered aloud. Her voice cracked and changed several octaves in her brief, choppy sentence; she hadn’t spoken much to herself or anyone else lately, and, as always, she received no response beside her horse nervously shaking its head. She patted the animal’s neck from her side-saddle position, knowing that it could tell she wasn’t human; I bet I just smell awful to him.
Anne wore a dark, worn cloak over her intricate, outdated, corseted dress. Besides Henry that’s what I miss the most: the clothes and the attention and respect that came with them. Humans are so superficial, judging people by what they look like, consciously or not, before they even speak. I figured out how things worked; despite our lower standing, even if I was covered in sweat and ink all day from working the printing press with my father, I saved all my money (and whatever Henry kindly gave me) to buy fine silks, damask, velvet, and cotton to make and fashion my own gowns. Going out a night, dressed perfectly, sparking from the gems in my shoes to the small tiara in my hair, no one looked at me with rude judgment. Now I have to cover my clothes and hide my face, receiving a whole different kind of look if I don’t: “devil woman, cursed bitch, demon child.” The usual.
None of that bothered Anne; all she wanted to do was find her Henry, go home, and go back to the way things used to be: keeping her “life” up during the day, and going on romantic adventures with Henry at night. She knew she had to be careful, though; even this far north, the church still had its spies and influences, making the land unsafe during day or night for those immortals that didn’t take care to hide themselves properly.
I will find him, Anne vowed to herself mentally for the millionth time. And when I do, I will drain every last drop of blood from each man, woman, and child that touched—
But her train of thought was cut off when she was suddenly yanked down from her horse and crushed to the ground. She barely heard her left arm snap and break under the impact, a small cry escaping her lips from the sharp pain. Slightly dazed, Anne tried to move when something heavy was smacked into the side of her head. The world then instantly became dark and, unable to breathe, she passed out in a haze of black and red.
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Post by Armored Soul on Feb 5, 2012 11:52:11 GMT -7
Astrid frowned deeply, so upset by Lestat's little speech she didn't even hear his question. "Excuse me, sir," She began vehemently, something inside her snapping her hesitance. "I will answer your questions. I will sit with you. But I will not listen to you tell me to be proud of what I am. I have no reason to be 'proud.' And I can't see how you are so proud. What I do... What I have to do is wrong. All those people I've... met; they had families and lives, and I took them from that. And I've tried animals instead but they're just not good enough." She relaxed her fists but didn't wipe the blood away, only turned her hands in her lap so she could stare at the little pools of red. "I cannot have any sense of pride in what I am. I don't care about being taken out; that's what got me in this mess in the first place."
She blinked, fear creeping back up over her anger. Was that too much to say? Had she upset Lestat? She stiffened, bracing for whatever form of retaliation Lestat would give.
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“Wake up,” Kain shook Aidou’s shoulder lightly. Once again, the smaller vampire had been shuddering and quietly whimpering in his sleep. Kain didn’t know if vampires had dreams or not; he’d never dreamed himself, but something obviously bothered Aidou whenever he slept. It was one of the reasons Kain would sleep so close to Aidou – to comfort him and perhaps ease whatever troubled the blonde.
Aidou’s blue eyes snapped open with a small gasp. He looked up and found he was on his back Kain hovering over him. “Good evening,” he greeted with a smile. If he had dreamt, he didn’t remember it. But his smile faded when he saw the concerned look in Kain’s deep brown eyes. “Is something wrong?”
Kain gave thought to telling Aidou how pitiful he was when he slept, but decided against it. After all, Aidou was not hurt from it; he appeared to be perfectly fine. “Nothing at all.” One large hand slid under Aidou’s neck and lifted his head so he was closer to Kain. The two stared into each other’s eyes, woodland brown meeting sky blue. “You’re just hard to resist.” Kain leaned even closer, inwardly enjoying the little hitch in Aidou’s breathing, and bit the bottom’s lip. He licked the blood he’d drawn and promptly got off the bed.
“Wh-what was that?!” Aidou protested. Sometimes, his cousin was nothing but a stoic tease. His elegant, blue outfit, several shades darker than his eyes, crinkled as he got off the bed. He yawned as he fixed and smoothed the fabric then retied his ribbon around his neck. He noticed the window was still covered and gave Kain a questioning look. “Are we not leaving now?”
“We could,” Kain answered the innocent question. “The sun hasn’t set yet, but we could still go out. There are enough shadows to move in. Your choice.”
“Ah,” Aidou sighed and pondered the idea. He wanted to meet another pretty girl and see if he could get Kain to cooperate this time. He knew Kain hadn’t left while he was sleeping – he never did – so the vampire must have had a grumbly tummy at this point. “Okay, let’s go.”[/size]
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on Feb 5, 2012 13:00:05 GMT -7
"Maria.” Jinx lied without hesitation. “And your's?” She watched the bartender pour her aquantience a drink and the fear seemed to pour out of him. Now that she focused some attention on the room, and not just on the man next to her, she could smell it all around. She almost flinched away from the bartender and his stench. The whole room stank and she didn’t know how she’d missed it. How much attention was she paying this man? Clearly too much. Turning away slightly, she waited for his name.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl’s head hit the pillow of his rented room and he was asleep. The poor monk hadn’t traveled for such a long period of time in years. Thanks to the exhaustion and stress Carl’s dreams were filled with images of monsters and explosions that kept him twitching and muttering in his sleep. The inn actually had nicer beds than his own old mattress back home, but he slept all the worse for the softer cot. The donkey, quite unaware of the monk’s troubled sleep, slept peacefully with only a few flickers of his large ears to indicate any activity in his donkey brain.
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Post by Mother of Dragons on Feb 5, 2012 15:07:25 GMT -7
"Pretty name," Van Helsing said, assuming that the girl had some kind of family in Spain even though she didn't look the part at all; she's much too pale...
He decided to take his time responding, not sure what the girl's reaction would be when he told her of his... position in life. After taking his shot and motioning for another, the monster hunter looked over at Maria and gave her one of his small, emotionless smiles.
"Van Helsing."
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Lestat sighed, though it wasn't out of boredom or rudeness or pity; he understood. Louis had practically said the same to him, so many years ago. Yet she's already been changed, and hurt, obviously, in the process. What can I say to make her feel better? I'm sure she deserves it, and, hell... I can use as many good points as I can get.
The Brat Prince nodded his head slowly, making sure Astrid could see he was actually listening to her despite the fact that she didn't answer his loaded question. He leaned over toward her slowly, hoping he wouldn't frighten her. Positioned comfortably on his side, Lestat gently took her closest hand in his, and, with a flick of his opposite wrist, flipped out his handkerchief again. Wiping the small, lace-lined cloth along her bloodied palms, he began softly, "None of us wanted this, love; all the way back to the beginning, when the demon spirit that vampirism came from descended to this land... no human asked to live this way. Either way, though, you were given life. That in itself is a gift, and, if you have the steel in your heart and the fire in your veins, you can appreciate the Dark Gift as well." He handed her the kerchief, now stained a light pink. "Why don't you keep that, as a token of our new... friendship; something you can hold onto while you answer my question."
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Anne awoke in a cloudy haze, her eyesight rimmed in blood-red circles. She had no idea where she was, if she was alive, or how long she’d been… wherever she was. Above anything else, Anne was deathly afraid; as a vampire, she had never passed out before. During the day, she and Henry often fell into a sleep-like trance for hours at a time, wrapped in each other’s arms in their small loft with all the curtains drawn. She’d never fainted or been knocked out, though… does that mean I’m dead? Is it that simple for a hunter to catch and destroy someone like me? Impossible. I… I can feel my toes, my fingers, even the fabric of my dress on my legs, but I can’t see. Where am I?
She slowly flexed her toes, but found that her ankles were tied together. Moving the fingers on her right arm was easy, but when she tried the muscles in her left, pain erupted from her fingertips to her shoulder. So my arm is still broken; I’ve got to put it back into place so it’ll heal properly, otherwise I’ll have to break it again and reset it… not a pleasant experience. Her hands were tied tightly behind her back, straining the broken bone in her arm to almost unbearable angle. Moving her wrists carefully, Anne bit down on her tongue, twisting the bonds as much as she could. They felt like metal from their cool touch and tough texture on her skin. Come on, break, she thought angrily, her panic rising further, making it hard to breathe and swallow.
As she struggled, Anne thought of a moment, years ago, when she and Henry were still in Italy; he was her teacher, best friend, lover, and soul mate. The fact that they couldn’t die, despite how unorthodox their lives were, was just a side effect. The world is an unforgiving place, Annie, but that doesn’t mean you have to let it forgive you at all. You do understand? You don’t need forgiveness; God does not exist. It’s just you and me, and I will always protect you. You’re my other half, dear, and this world will be dead without you.
Anne let out a low growl, frustrated and in pain. Something as simple as being bound with metal was going to stop her? Though she didn’t see it, Anne’s eyes shifted to a solid gold, only flakes of her original mocha brown still visible. She twisted her wrists, letting the metal cut down into her skin and flesh, until, a few moments and several snaps later, the bonds broke and Anne could fully move her right arm. Instantly she reached up and removed the black bag that was still over her head. Looking around hurriedly, Anne saw that she was in a small shack, made of only one room with no furniture and one window. She was alone now, and, taking the opportunity, Anne slowly moved her left arm out in front of her. It was an internal fracture just below her elbow, and Anne had to swallow several cries and hold back tears when she gripped the malformed, purpled bump. Condensing all her strength into her right hand, Anne squeezed her first tight, and, with a sickening, liquid crunch of a sound, snapped the fracture back into place.
She sighed and leaned back against the wall of the small shack she was already slumped against. It took her less than a minute to untie the bonds on her ankles. The skirt of the dress was stained with mud and slightly wet. Not knowing the terrain around her very well, Anne had no idea where her captor had taken her or how far it was from the path she’d been following. The good news is it’s almost night, and I’ll be back on track no matter what. Whoever took me off that horse wasn’t very smart; finishing me off during the day would have been the best decision and now… they won’t live to see the morning.
Anne stood carefully, still feeling extremely dizzy and weak. What did they do to me? she wondered, quickly double-checking herself for any other injuries and finding none. Glancing through the gaps in the curtain, she could see that the sun was finally setting. The main door of the shack was barely hanging on its hinges, the deadbolt not put in place. So they take me off the trail, tie me up, and leave me alive in here alone? What the hell is going on?
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on Feb 5, 2012 15:33:11 GMT -7
Jinx’s outward reaction was to smile, reach her hand out to him to shake and say, “Nice to meet you. You know that name does ring a bell… something with the Church, I believe.”But that was just a glamour.
Underneath the now very heavy glamours she held around herself she was terrified. Jinx didn’t talk to other vampires but she wasn’t deaf to their whispers. Again that voice started shouting in her head. He smells like ash! it repeated over and over. But this time she knew why and didn’t ignore it. Ash, from burning someone alive. Other words and thoughts cascaded around her thoughts in-between the ever screaming voice of her conscience: murderer, he ties them to a cross and sets the sun on them, Godless, merciless, inhuman, torturer, bastard. Words she’d heard other ‘monsters’ use to describe the man she was casually having a drink with.
Beneath her heavy glamour her eyes flicked to the window where the sun was darkening and around the room to the fearful people. Seeing their fear seemed to turn off the fear in her own head and quiet her silent screaming. What did these humans have to fear? He wouldn’t tie them up and burn them to nothing. He wasn’t going to send these ‘good folk’ to Hell. She wanted to get up and run. But another thought occurred to her… what if she could get rid of him? What if she and her kind could stop hiding from this monster in human skin? Could she kill him? He was just a man after all… he bled and breathed like the one she’d killed that afternoon. She could do it!
Her focus returned to Van Helsing completely, letting her murderous plan sit in the back of her mind. “What brings you to this little town, Van Helsing?” she continued, tasting his name on her tongue and wanting to bite it off as she did.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl slept badly as the sun started to set. He'd probably get up later in the night for something to eat as he had forgetten dinner all together. But while he slept his dreams started to shift from explosions and monsters back to his home. He saw himself reading a book at his desk. The book was about strange creatures that the Church wasn't hunting... yet.
When he woke up later he would realize this was just some memory of a book he'd read a few days ago and wonder why he'd dreamed about it.
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Post by Armored Soul on Feb 5, 2012 16:30:20 GMT -7
"Th-thank you," Astrid's shell broke. She'd tried but she couldn't keep it up. She trembled, fighting tears, as she lightly grabbed the kerchief and nodded, remembering the question Lestat had posed. It would be hard to talk about, but she had promised she would answer. And Lestat's kindness had earned something from her, if not her complete trust. She swallowed her nerves and tears, and played with the kerchief.
"I met him four years ago. I was getting a lesson in horseback riding when my mare spooked and ran off the trail and onto the city street. I fell and hurt my ankle. He... he was the one who retrieved my horse and helped me home. He told me his name was Edmond Augustine; I'm not sure if I believe that anymore. We spent a lot of time together after that. I... fell in love with him. And he told me... he loved me. We were to be married. Then... we were coming back from the theatre one night... and I told him for the hundredth time that I loved him. He took my hand, smiling at me like he always did, and led me away from the street. And then he...." She shook her head, unable to voice what had happened. Instead, she tilted her head to the side and brushed her hair away, showing rough scars that crossed her neck. They looked more like scars from a vicious animal attack than vampire bite. Edmond had nearly ripped her neck in two. "It hurt... I thought I was going to die there. I'd... given up. I didn't understand; it was completely out of nowhere. I never suspected anything, never noticed anything out of the ordinary.... He was like you." She paused again, gripping the kerchief as she continued, "But then his mouth was against mine and... and I tasted something strange. I know now that it was his blood, but I didn't then. I couldn't fight it. I thought it was just some twisted good-bye kiss. Then he told me he'd be watching, and he left. He just left.... For three years I've been trying to find him. To pay him back. And to make sure that he never does this to anyone else."
The weight that lifted off Astrid's shoulders was immense. She'd never spoken of it to anyone and it was a strange relief to say the story aloud. She kept her eyes lowered on the kerchief, unsure if she wanted to see Lestat's reaction or not.[/size]
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Post by Mother of Dragons on Feb 5, 2012 19:05:40 GMT -7
Van Helsing took his second shot, buying himself more time. Afterwards, he shook his head from the sting of the alcohol, then waved a hand casually through the air."Business," he began casually, not feeling bad about the dull answer; it was the truth, technically. "Just a few errands for my employer. I'm guessing from the fact that you have no one talking to you and the bartender seems terrified of you that... you're not a local. Where are you from, Maria?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Lestat was silent for a moment, taking in Astrid's words. He didn't offer her a clean handkerchief as he should have; he was deep in his thoughts, thinking as quickly as possible to make sure the silence didn't last too long: By the devil, this poor child has been wronged. I can understand why Magnus did what he did to me, turning me one night and then setting himself on fire the next day, leaving me with nothing but questions and an unimaginable amount of wealth that I didn't want. It took me centuries of self-loathing and near-death experiences with my family, loves, and happiness as the sacrifice, but... I understand now. This girl, though... she has nothing but her hatred and want for vengeance, and it will destroy her if she doesn't have guidance.He sat up a little, propping his head up on one hand, his face tilted upward so he could see Astrid's expression. He chose his words carefully, trying to show her that speaking with him. Lestat thought of apologizing, but could already tell she would neither appreciate nor take well to a meaningless "I'm sorry." "You've been through a lot for such a young vampire," he began quietly, watching her face carefully. "It's assholes like your Edmond that give us folk a bad name." He paused to see if the light quip would get him a smile, but, as he expected, no luck. Instead, he reached out a hand to tentatively touch the scars on Astrid's neck. His fingers trailed up and down the marks, from one jagged line to another, and, incredulously, Lestat felt his eyes being to tear up. Clearing his throat as quietly as possible, hoping the sound and his uncalled-for, unusual emotions went unnoticed, the Brat Prince extended his thumb to Astrid's chin and gently turned her face toward him. "I think... it's time for you to stop being afraid, mon cherie. Don't mistake me, though: keep your anger, your pure hatred, your necessity for vengeance. Those are things you will need to line your heart with to do what you must. Believe me when I say this, though: you are not alone." He broke their eye contact for a moment, looking down at the carpet at the front of the couch, several dried blood stains visible there. "My story is long and tedious, something you may learn over time if you wish, but, for now... you need to drink. I can feel it in your pulse." He increased the pressure of his fingers on her chin and neck, pressing hard enough on her skin to bring up patches of red on her pale-white skin. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Anne searched the empty, abandoned shack with frightened, dilated eyes, looking for any kind of weapon she could use in case she had to fight her way back to the trail she’d be on. She found nothing, unfortunately, besides her dark riding cloak in a pile in the opposite corner from her, and her metal bonds on the floor. Anne picked up the piece of wrapped metal rope that had bound her ankles and stuffed it down the front of her bodice.
She walked slowly over to the unlocked door, painfully aware of her healing bone and how loud her boot heels were on the dusty, creaky floor. Smelling the air, Anne could tell there was a human nearby… close… maybe…on the other side of this door, waiting for me. She exhaled deeply, her pulse doubling with her new realization. Was this some kind of game for this hunter? To bag her like an animal in this shack and then wait for her to fight back so he or she could finish her off while she was conscious? Well, I may not be an expert, but I can sure as hell hold my own. Right… deep breath… get ready…Anne leaned herself up against the wall of the door, closed her eyes for two seconds, then kicked the door open. The old piece of wood broke off of one of its hinges and swung outward, clunking loudly when he bounced off the outside of the wall. She looked around the immediate corner and then to the other side, but saw no one. Gazing out the door at her surroundings, Anne found that she wasn’t far from where she was before she’d passed out; the trees and ground looked similar to the terrain she’d been crossing for the last couple days, and, when she looked out further, Anne was relieved to see her stolen horse tethered to a tree not thirty feet away. She couldn’t help but sigh; according to the rumors she’d heard, Anne still had a while to go and needed the horse in order to make the best time.
Stepping forward a few feet, Anne poked her head slowly out into the clearing surrounding the little shack, careful of the sun that was still shining dully on the ground beyond the holey awning outside. This hunter or whoever could be just around the corner. I’ve gotta watch myself… I'll do a quick search around the perimeter of the house and the trees nearby, and if I find nothing then, I'll take the damn horse again and ride as fast as I can away from these people.
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dushasoul
Making a name for themselves.
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Post by dushasoul on Feb 5, 2012 19:12:09 GMT -7
Anya moved swiftly through the barely sunlit street. She managed to reach the inn ahead of her in no time, avoiding any conversations. The excitement she felt, at the possibility of another vampire being so close, fueled her. She spoke with the inn keeper, giggling politely at his comments and compliments. She knew the man was a humble human, looking to please a lovely lady. It was the same as the man on the train only hours previous. It seems that humans use flattery as a first impression quite often. It's interesting to me to see this firsthand. I'm only glad I can speak several languages or this conversation would be hardly existent. Anya gave the keeper a smile and paid him for the room she'd requested. He gave her the key and directions to find it and she left. She hardly noticed any of the others in the room. None peeked her interest. She moved towards the stairs and lifted her skirts as she ascended them. Her sharp hearing picked up whispered words from those below. She ignored them, the playful banter amongst men, saying who'd get the girl and who'd score points later in the night. She rolled her eyes, sighing in annoyance. One thing she missed about having Mikhail with her, was his constant safe guarding. The way he could always feel emotions not just from her, but from the others around her. She was naive in many ways, and he had always stepped in to save her from it. I'm on my own now. I have to learn to take care of myself, otherwise, what can I do for my people? Anya reached the second floor landing and turned on her heel moving down in near silence. Her steps were soft and light, as a dancer as she twirled, swinging her bag with her and stopped in front of the door. She checked her key once more then pushed it into the lock and swung the door open.
The room itself was small but nice enough. She walked inside and set her bag down on the bed and explored the small space. The room only held a small dresser and bed. Nothing more. It was quaint but Anya knew it was good enough to satisfy one night in the town. She only needed to get her bearings and find food then later, when the moon rose high in the sky, she'd leave again.
Anya moved over to the bed and laid down on it folding her arms behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. It was a rather empty feeling, traveling alone. She hoped that perhaps, if she found the vampire in the town, he or she would let her travel with them. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. A friend, to help her on her way. Now that was an idea.
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Post by Armored Soul on Feb 5, 2012 19:51:27 GMT -7
For a moment, Astrid's guard was completely dropped. She let Lestat touch her neck without moving away or flinching, and she listened to his words. But at the suggestion of needing a 'drink' and the pressure of his hands, she leaned away and shook her head. "I won't." Instead of looking away like she'd done before, she looked right back at him. But her conviction wavered at the eye contact and she visibly trembled. "I can't. It's too difficult; I don't like doing it."
As much as she didn't want it, her mind was spinning with the tantalizing thought of blood. It had been three days, going on four. Her control was slipping. If she pushed herself, she could go another day without hurting anyone, but it would be a very rough day. Besides all that, she'd told herself she would leave once night fell. The sun was surely setting by now if it hadn't already. She was going to leave and move on. But the idea of staying with Lestat for just a little longer was nice. He seemed to understand her; she never thought anyone could understand her. He'd told her to stop being afraid. Was she supposed to trust him? He said she wasn't alone. She couldn't begin to understand that. Yet she wanted to trust someone, even if he heart was surrounded by brick walls and moats, she wanted to have just one person. Could she learn to trust again? Learn to trust Lestat? Maybe; there was a small chance. If she was going to open herself up, why not let it be to someone who seemed to want to help her?[/size]
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on Feb 5, 2012 21:18:34 GMT -7
Jinx glanced at the bartender. “I don’t think he’s terrified of me, if you don’t mind me saying. I won him a good amount of money last night; I’d like to think he even likes me.” She offered Van Helsing a friendly smile. “But what man wouldn’t? Even you came right up and said hello.” Jinx wanted to bite Van Helsing right here and now. If he knew what she was he’d stab her right here and this thought blazed in her mind, making her actual face a mask of hate. Somewhere deep down she knew she was just as much a killer as him, but she did not see them as equal.Her glamour did a wonderful job of hiding any such thoughts, thankfully. She was even blushing, to anyone else’s eyes. “I’m from England originally.” She replied to his question. “But I like travel too much to want to return too often. This is a pretty area, don’t you think?” she looked out the window, willing the sun to set completely if for no other reason than to relax her. “And where are you from, Van Helsing.” It took a little extra glamouring to keep his name from sounding like a curse. She nearly spat it out of her mouth, but it sounded like a flirtation after a little help from her Gift. She drank the last of her wine and tapped the glass to the beat of some song or another.
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