setting
Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

Current Time in Index, Washington:
rules
PLAYBYS: Sims from the games Sims 2, 3 and 4 are used to visually represent player’s original characters (no characters from within the franchise are allowed). But, you do not need these games to join and roleplay! If you wish, you can post a thread in our out of character / general forum and list as many physical details about your character as you wish. The members of Index will happily try and make a character for you, and you can choose which one you feel best fits your vision.

AVATARS: Avatars should display your characters face clearly and should be at least 200 pixels tall, and 200 pixels wide.

THREADING & POSTING: When threading with multiple characters, it is important that you post only when it is your turn. This can be acheived by taking note of who has posted before you, and remember you are to always post after them. If you were the thread starter, then it is your turn after the final person has joined your thread.

When creating a thread you are required to place a tag before the title. Here are a list of types of thread you can create and how to tag each one:

[Open] Anyone is welcome to join your thread, with no limit on the number of characters.
[Open - #] Anyone is welcome to join your thread, but there is a limit on the number of characters who can join. Replace the # with how many extra characters you will allow to join your thread.
[Private] Only specific characters can join your thread.
[Closed] This tag should be used for threads that only involve your character.

ACTIVITY: To keep threads moving, people are encouraged to post within three days when it is their turn. If you do not post within three days, and you have not asked people to wait for you, it is possible you will be skipped. Keep in mind this is just a suggestion. While we'd love for everyone to be active every day, we understand that real life and other hobbies are just as important, if not more. We want you to be active because you want to be, not because a rule is telling you to be.

MATURITY RATING: Public threads should all be PG. If roleplayers above the age of 18 wish to post content that could be could be considered graphic then it should be hidden from view using the [hide] [/hide] code, which will enable only those in the threads and administrators to view the content.


 [Private] Release the Bats

[Private] Release the Bats

Page 1 of 2 1, 2  Next

View previous topic View next topic Go down

avatar

[Private] Release the Bats

Daron Wynyard | Vampire; Young

Posted on Sun May 07, 2017 4:19 am

Thread Details
Seattle ⋅ Clear ⋅ After Midnight


Daron's Outfit without the headgear. Band is in similar attire.




Ash clung to everything. Every member of the audience had been made to sign release forms before entering the arena. I hadn’t been closely involved in the preperations of the concert for once. Far too preoccupied with other things to really care what the theme should be. Diana had taken care of it with help from Sabine who delighted in the theatrical side of any performance. They had adopted Mad Max dystopian imagery. Canons that spurted pyrotechnic flames had been positioned about the outdoor stadium. Constant bursts timed to various parts of songs had blanketed the entire area in flecks of potentially toxic ash. Every ticket holder had signed away any rights they had to suing the band for inhalation of the stuff. Fuck their lungs. There was always a level of danger to every single one of my Birthday concerts. It was one of the primary reasons why they sold out within a day even though Laudanum was hardly a headlining band. Ambulances lined the exits. Paramedics standing alongside security guards at the foot of the stage. It wasn’t a concert without someone getting bitten, having a bottle smashed over their head or getting accidently stabbed by another groupies attire.

The mosh pit had been pandemonium. At one point I’d been begged to stop a set in order for the barriers to be reinforced but I’d just laughed and frenzied the crowd further. One guitar had its strings literally shredded. One speaker blown setting fire to a prop mid song. We’d gotten a member of the audience to put it out with a fire extinguisher before continuing. Participation was always encouraged. I liked my Prey to feel like they were a part of the performance not just spectators. Of course every concert had to feature at least one lucky guy or girl…I wasn’t picky, getting bitten by yours truly. Since my fangs were always on display throughout the performance I suspected they thought I was wearing an expensive plate. Always gave my meal a close up and personal exhibition of how I could detract as well as extend them however. A story to tell their friends later.

We had started on time. Something I always made sure happened as I knew how often other artists made their fans wait. Though we had been scheduled to finish at midnight as per tradition, I’d finished with a song that I knew was going to get me in shit. The Supremacy had mentioned in their voicemail that they were pleased I hadn’t played any of my banned music at Gayle’s party. Throughout the evening I’d caught the chant of “Cold, Cold, Cold” coming from the audience though. It rose from the depths whenever a pause came between songs. It eventually became a challenge I couldn’t refuse. When I’d whispered the title into Drew’s ear he had looked at me like I had lost my mind. Then just mumbled Your funeral. The crowd had gone ballistic when we’d begun to play Cold. I swore every single person in that stadium screamed the lyrics along with me. Which I growled with far more passion than any of the previous. With that level of adrenalin rushing through my veins I had ended the concert basking in the howls from the Prey who had attended while the rest of the band left the stage. Nothing was better than this. I swore then and there the next concert I performed was going to be in Index itself. Where I had first met Lilith. Singing songs that she would help write. My fans wanted the truth. The bayed for lyrics about Vampires and our world. I was going to give them more than they bargained for.

Diana grabbed at my arm as I strode down the corridor towards the back rooms. Hey! I thought you weren’t playing that song. “Changed my mind.” I snarled, flashing her a sinister grin that was made all the more terrifying due to the fact my chin was caked in semi dried blood. Whatever, they loved it. We have momentum now. We need to discuss your next appearance and I’m not talking about your little stints at Poison, that’s child’s play. I liked that crappy little bar. It was filled with posers, Supremacy sycophants and low grade blood-dolls but I was close to adopting it as my new ‘home’. The only other time I had classed a bar as a sure-fire place to find Laudanum had been the Black Cat Bar. My Makers establishment. “Not now.” Well obviously not now. You need to get cleaned up before I send the competition winner into meet you. My brow creased in confusion as I turned the corner into the Green Room, which had been relabelled The Crypt for the evening. Drew and Kris were already half a bottle deep into Black Sambuca, toasting to a successful evening. Any animosity forgotten for the present moment. Sabine and Alyssa sat together on my couch in the far end of the room. Oren was nowhere to be seen. All the walls had been draped in dark fabric. A coffin acted as cooler, filled with bottles of anything that was best served chilled. Yet another casket presented itself as a table already set up with Absinthe complete with all the utensils required for the proper consumption of the liquor.

“Clean myself up?” Bursting into a snap of cruel laughter I smeared a blood stained hand on Diana’s pristine cream skirt, grasping a handful of her cosmetically enhanced ass. Finally remembering that my Manager had set up some stupid little contest I slapped her rump hard before dashing over to the girls. “Doubt that any of my fans are going to faint at the sight of a little plasma Diana.” Roughly pushing in between Alyssa and Sabine I swung an arm around both their shoulders, pulling them into me. “Send them in.” Diana left the room scowling as she twisted her neck to look over her shoulder at the now tainted material of her dress suit while I glanced between the two female band members. “So who wants the first ride?” A rabid concert never failed to get me hard. Alyssa immediately shot a glare full of venom at Sabine who just rolled her eyes. Fire Crotch can go first. I’ll punch your fucking face if you say one word about sloppy seconds Alyssa. Sabine leaned in and licked up the side of my face. Just leaving the best till last huh Daron? Laudanum’s base player darted out of Alyssa’s reach before she could collect a slap to the face as my red haired singer straddled my lap.

Back to top Go down

avatar

Re: [Private] Release the Bats

Natasha Sinclair | Vampire; Aged

Posted on Mon May 15, 2017 2:09 am

Tasha's Outfit

My ivory fangs burst through a soggy ticket dangling from my mouth upon swaying my voluptuous ass into a massive smoke cloud enclosing a mob of mall goths shoving at each other. A sweat-glistening skinhead balled a spaghetti top into his fist and tugged a screaming redhead backwards into a human-sized splash of mud. My boots scurried sideways before sludge wet the polished leather or the skin-tight denim hugging my thighs. My green eyes crumpled into a wince when something suspiciously hard and wet poked at my cheek and my disgusted face turned towards a missing tooth sitting on my shoulder like a goddamn parrot. This is the best view in the stadium, they said. You’re gonna love it, they said. Whoever sold me that lie must’ve been the Devil himself. What kind of maniac rewards their concert winners with a fistful of knuckles in their crotch. Jesus Christ.

An actual dickhead crouched down like a sumo wrestler in the muddy clearing, cum-stained pubic hair stuck to his bleeding eye, an army of chains thrashed from his leather arms swinging backwards in rapid circles like one of those emo wannabe hardcore fucks. His skull ring snagged onto my zipper and tore my fly right open, revealing neatly trimmed golden curls instead of frilly panties or whatever most of these chicks wear. I turned my head sideways, spat that ticket out like a spent cigar, and stomped my combat boot on his shoulder, shoving him face-forward into the mucky grass. My hands reached down for my dangling zip and yanked it over my blonde kitten as I marched across that dickhead on my way closer to the stage.

Couldn’t see shit was an understatement. I bet that Delta Air Lines plane speeding into the moon is gonna think some Muslim terrorist done bombed the shit out this wicked concert the moment the passengers glance out their windows at swollen clouds of ash blanketing the stadium amidst blazing infernos leaping into the night sky. A vast sea of arms swayed in unison to the growling mayhem thundering out the speakers and a red skirt flapped from the tanned thighs of some slut coasting along the crowd that I can guarantee is gonna get fingered a million times over by the rabid hands clawing at her. She’s lucky they carried her ass away from me because I would’ve made the bitch run out this stadium crying with her oversized bosom falling out her shredded blouse into her humiliated arms. Worthless attention whore slut.

My curvy figure slipped through frenzied bodies hopping up and down, forearm raised over my brow because some dumbass decided to wear an unbuckled belt covered in cheap spikes. My hand clamped onto the offensive trash and snatched it away from his waist. The idiot’s eyes nearly popped out his skull when the belt tightened around his throat and the buckle grip was shoved into a fresh hole that would be a challenge to take out. His hands gnarled as they clawed at the belt crushing his windpipe—then the whole stadium exploded into smoke. Shit whatever there was to see of Daron I wasn’t seeing it now. Silhouettes in the grey brought fists to their mouths and started hacking like their lungs were blackened in volcanic ash. My hands clasped together upon my bosom as my slender body squeezed through the coughing swarm like a snow truck plowing through a blizzard. I wanted to see my goddamn progeny not a recreation of WWII. Shit.

I stabbed an elbow against some pencil neck teen and stepped past his stumbling body into a muddy clearing where absolute chaos was the norm. I was no virgin to moshing, just thought it was fucking stupid, and my nose crinkled at a swarm of idiots throwing their sweaty bodies into each other. I just stood in the middle of the chaos, chin turned up to catch a glimpse of Daron sweeping across the stage. Still couldn’t see much over the heads bopping up and down, but my ears did appreciate the wailing guitars making the whole stadium rumble. My head swayed a little to the beat of the thundering drums, a slight and gentle bob unlike the pansies trying to dislocate their skulls, and my hands slipped back inside the mini jacket exposing my pierced navel and inked guns aiming at my crotch. I had wondered whether his musical tastes had changed over the years. What kind of man he’d become. Now he was up there screaming shit about vampires that made the corner of my mouth curl into a smirk. Real ballsy of him.

Some motherfucker smacked his palm into my ass. I felt bony fingers cupping at the supple flesh real strong and hard through the stretchy fabric of my skinnies like he wanted to bring this ass home as a souvenir.

My eyes narrowed into a red-rimmed glare over my shoulder at some spiky-headed prick spraying a can of bud light around in a fountain of foam. I raised a fist over my shoulder and clocked his ass in the face. The man tumbled backwards against some other moshers, knocked their asses down like dominos, but my hand snatched onto his drenched tee before the back of his head hit the ground and slammed another fist into his bleeding nose, “The answer is no but you should’a asked first moron.”

Someone’s trailer trash Barbie hopped onto my freaking back, could almost see the missing teeth in her swollen silicone mouth when a cigarette-scorched voice scratched at my ear, “Hayns off ma boyfran’ beetch!” It was then I realized all of Daron’s fans that had an IQ over 35 were nowhere to be found in this mosh pit. Probably sitting on a lawn chair beside a cooler stuffed with beers, or even hopping up and down like excited bunnies. Whoever recommended this spot to me must’ve thought I was redneck trash. Fuck them.

I growled and twisted my body to the side, effectively throwing the imitation blonde off me, but my hand caught her by the back of her tank top before she planted face first into the dirt. I flipped her over onto my arm and tore her shirt open, revealing her breasts to the roaring crowd, she started screaming and I gave her a good hard slap before I threw her onto her pathetic boyfriend rolling around the ground covering his nose, “How do you like this bitch.” I gave her a rough hard and inappropriate squeeze. Payback. I never let anyone take shit from me without getting something in return. Too bad her teat felt like a bag of concrete. Hate fake boobs. Only good to get me wet.

I lost track of how many broken noses my fist slammed into as I cleaved a path through those cavemen. Damn well looked the part too, like I just walked out of Hell. At the end of the concert some woman in a cream suit with a period stain on her skirt came to get me. Jesus. I would have made myself decent as I was following behind even the likes of this chick, but I was too lost inside my thoughts to notice the disheveled curls blocking my vision. What the hell was I going to say when I saw him? Hey, howya doin’ this is the maker who abandoned you 50 years ago? Shit I felt like I was walking backstage onto an episode of Jerry Springer.

Then she disappeared, and I found myself alone. I drew my brows together for a moment, the kohl blackening my eyes stood out amidst the white canvas of my skin. My darkened eyes just stared down at my boots, willing them to move, to take one step further. I could turn back if I wanted to. Recede back into the shadows like a coward. Or I could take responsibility for the crazy bastard I brought into this world.

A heavy breath poured through my lips, ash from the freakin canons firing outside like Daron and his band were some goddamn pirates at sea. I don’t know who told him these theatrics were necessary. I turned my chin up, and continued walking to my destination.

I scrubbed my tongue along my mouth, the side of my cheek bulging outward as my eyes narrowed onto a curious room that was black as Daron’s soul must be by now. I couldn’t help but curl my mouth into a smirk at the redheaded booty sitting on his lap. Some things never change. I only leaned against the doorway with my forearm raised above my head. Didn’t fix myself up because I’ve been told I look my sexiest when I look like I’ve been through a war and survived. My hair was fluffed up from the fight, most of my curls had been stretched out into loose waves layered upon each other, a smear of red stretched across my cheek from my otherwise perfectly rouge lips, my smooth abs were on display because I didn’t bother to wear anything under this jacket since I was planning on wondering the ghettos nude. I picked a guy out in the crowd. I was going to steal his cigar, his skull lighter, and terrorize the block until sun up. My other hand rested upon my hip, rattling blood red nails against my jeans, and a smirk curled at my lips, “Hey Daby”—my pet name for him. Daron was my baby. My Daby. “I think I may have killed some of your fans on the way in. Hope you don’t mind a few less heads at the next concert.” I curled my nails before my face nonchalantly, “So you gonna introduce yourselves to me or should I start cracking my knuckles?” I glanced up for a moment and swept my gaze across the unfamiliar faces. I will fight everyone one of these motherfuckers if they give me trouble. And I will win too.

Back to top Go down

avatar

Re: [Private] Release the Bats

Daron Wynyard | Vampire; Young

Posted on Wed May 17, 2017 3:36 am


“Whose bright idea was it to turn a simple bra into a bloody combination lock?”
These outfits might have looked impressive on the hanger. In a garish Halloween costume kind of way. When faced with the contraptions up close I was introduced to a chastity belt for tits. All the chains and studs caught the lighting on stage to wet the visual appetite but they also deceptively hid any means of removing the garments without just ripping them off. Grabbing the front of Alyssa’s barely existent painted on top I immediately went to tear it in two. Had never been the type of child who carefully unstuck the cello tape on Christmas presents anyway. Hey! I wanted to keep this as a souvenir of my first concert with Laudanum. Don’t ruin it. Resisting the urge to narrow my eyes in disgust over something as sentimental as keeping mementos, I removed one hand to run my fingers through her hair. Didn’t manage to get very far, snagging on the snarl of a knot. Even tresses as dead straight and fine as Alyssa’s would get mangled in the ferocity of a real performance.

Unsympathetically scraping my fingers through, Alyssa yelped in pain as I took a chunk of her hair out. At the same exact time I used the free hand to roughly claw at her top. Actually shaking her whole body to tear it free of her. My fingernails lacerating her cleavage. The garment itself rubbing raw against her skin. All the wounds dissolved before my eyes and my young progeny slapped me across the face. Blood bubbled briefly over my tongue as the side of my mouth caught on a sharp tooth. Creating a fissure that spurted and then closed shortly after that metallic tang had infiltrated my senses for the hundredth time this evening. Jabbing forward like a snake I latched my mouth around a nipple, my blood smearing all over it. Alyssa moaned. What had been a half-hearted struggle against me turning into gasoline for her hips. Grinding into my lap.

Was enjoying myself. A start to an after party that would rival the previous years. They always did. Laudanum intrinsically trying to outdo ourselves. When I heard a voice. Not the pleasant though nefarious whisper of Lilith inside my head. Someone else. I voice that filled me with the same conflicting feelings. My tongue froze, my eyes snapping open. That couldn’t be. I was just hallucinating. Blood intoxication had that affect sometimes. Which is why I indulged on a regular basis. To feel and be completely out of control. I had never, not in many years of playing the hedonist heard my Makers fucking voice in the midst of a haze. If I ever did I wouldn’t have her utter that ridiculous pet name she had for me. Like naming a Doberman, Snookums.

Daby? It would have to be Drew that picked up on that straight away. Please tell me that’s a nickname for Daron. I’ll actually marry you right here right now. Even though I couldn’t see him I knew he would have a smirk on his face. Probably jabbing his elbow into Kris’s side trying his best to poison another progeny against me. Challenging him to jump on the rebellion speed wagon that right now they all thought didn’t come with dire consequences. I wanted them to break away from me and stop tugging on sire bonds for sustenance. Drew however did not go the right way about doing just that.

Still stuck in a weird limbo of not knowing what to do about this, when Alyssa asked me a question, I dumbly answered it truthfully. Do you know her?Who is that Daron? “My Maker.” What was worse is that while I had begrudgingly mumbled the response into her flesh she echoed it in a gasp loud enough for the whole damn room to hear. Your Maker? They had all asked me questions. I could have given them a variety of different answers, all of them lies. Instead every enquiry had been met with a stony silence. It was a topic that I would never discuss with anyone. Never confirmed or denied that she was still alive. That she was female. How I was still bonded to her. All anyone knew is that she was no longer in the picture and that I liked it that way.

When the rumbles of surprise reached my ears from the lips of my own progeny, I grasped Alyssa’s hips. Violently launching her off me sideways and into a wall. With her body out of my line of sight, my gaze locked on her. Expression twisting into something that I could only describe as uncomfortable I rose slowly from the couch. Sabine moved to my side and though I wasn’t looking at her. My eyes locked on my Maker. I could tell she looked concerned. I’m Drew, this is Kris. My cocky dark haired guitarist patted himself on the chest, then flicked the hand out to slap the much taller scarecrow vision of Kris in the ribs. Violet over there is Sabine and Red is Alyssa. Nice to finally meet you. Would say Daron has told us a lot about you. But he hasn’t said shit. Sabine reached up and almost subconsciously smoothed down her purple hair. Alyssa wincing as she stood, shielding her breasts with an arm.

“Out.” I said quietly. Three of my progeny turned to look at me, Drew being the only one who ignored the demand. It wasn’t directed at her, it was indeed directed at them. “I said…GET OUT.” Snarling I finally managed to drag my eyes away from…Natasha…to glare at the two girls near me. “Get the fuck out. All of you.”

Back to top Go down

avatar

Re: [Private] Release the Bats

Natasha Sinclair | Vampire; Aged

Posted on Wed May 31, 2017 4:52 pm

A sultry moan sprung from the jiggling lovebags of some vixen riding that boy’s lap like a buffalo through the wilds of Idaho while his rough hands snatched at her booby buckles like a wet beaver digging after the last stick on earth. Just Jesus Christ. This bdsm couch fuckery done left me no choice but to channel my inner deranged homeless man doing Clint Eastwood impressions for turkey sausages because what the hell is this pornographic shit I walked into. My green eyes narrowed into his trademark brooding squint and my nose crinkled up like I’d stepped in a pile of horse shit and wasn’t afraid to shove my shitty cowboy boot up somebody’s ass. What the hell was happening in here? Was Daron an aspiring rock star or an amateur porn star? And who was this wench parked on his presumably throbbing crotch? How come no one was inviting me to join? Well guess what, I didn’t have time for this shit—yeah, maybe part of me anticipated him standing so I can see how large his package was, maybe part of me was enjoying this wanton display of violence, maybe a literal part of me felt like an inflatable mattress swelling up between my thighs—but I came here for a civilized conversation. For once. For goddamn once.

Daron’s eyes snapped open behind those ripe melons suffocating his cheeks, squishing his face together like a fat kid diving head first into a birthday cake, looking like he was blowing up a nice tittie balloon. His irises shone a maelstrom of wintry colors, ice grey confusion rising to the glistening surface, as he stared at me behind the arching back of that woman like he’d seen a ghost or a bill collector instead of his dear old Maker.

My eyelids lowered into a cool stare as a slight smirk curled the corners of my mouth, “Birthday boy enjoyin’ some birthday cakes I see.” My middle finger twirled a blonde lock around its knuckle as my mouth pursed down at an approaching shadow crawling up my leather jacket. My ebony-dusted eyes rolled towards a looming tower of a man and a dark-haired guitarist eager to exchange words with me. One of them mentioned Daby’s nickname and my smile broadened to display white teeth as an amused breath of a chuckle shot out me. “Good, cuz alls yous guys is gettin’ one too.” I swung a hand up beside my cheek and spread my fingers apart to showcase a diamond ring sparkling in rainbow-colored flickers like a heavenly beacon, “I’ll do without tha marriage proposal if you can tell by the rock on my hand. This ring is ovah 5 hunnid years old. Daron ever tell you his Maker is half an ancient?” My mouth crumpled into an impish smirk at such an arrogant title. But it was true. My ass was about halfway towards becoming an ancient. And it hasn’t even been hunters but damn ghosts that try to end my winning streak.

I planted both fists on my womanly hips and darted my tense eyes about this motley crew of vampires in leather and skimpy clothing, “Now you mean to tell me Daron didn’ give you guys cute little names? Surely a group ‘a scary vampires need cute lil’ names so they don’ take themselves too seriously and look like a bunch’a tryhards.” I crinkled my brows, scrubbing my tongue along a cheek, as my fingertip circled around the faces of those two men, “You two. You’are prob’bly gonna be named aftah one ’a those Asian holograms that got kids runnin’ into traffic. You remind me ‘a those adorable lil’ motherfuckers. You know, tha guys that live in people’s bawls and throw lightenin’ and shit?” I looked over at the redhead trying to scoop her bosom back into her lungs, “Sweetheart you look like a Pumpkinpuss to me.” Or a DoMeHarder to be honest. Probably her Google+ name. If not it needs to be. DoMeHarder Wynyard. God forbid two vampires adopt any children, but if these two ever did that kid would make an excellent DoMeHarder Daron Wynyard, II. I cupped a hand over my mouth to suffocate a chuckle.

The longer I looked at this mess the more it seemed Little Daby had some rebellious progeny on his hands. He shouted at them to leave yet they rooted themselves in this room like trees. I bet if I told them to stay they would take my word over his—in fact, it would almost remind me of those Lifetime movies where the grandmother unwittingly turns the kids against their own mother because she spoils them with cookies and fancy shit for Christmas. Not that I had any intention of doing that. Today, at least. There’s no guaranteeing what tomorrow will bring – hell I might get bored and want to start some shit.

My chin perched onto my knuckles with the pad of my thumb supporting its weight as my shifting green eyes soaked up this vision of Daron as if I was staring at a burning masterpiece, one stroked by only the most demented artist, with a brilliant golden frame catching the tongue of flames, unafraid that the museum around it was rapidly burning down into ash. He was a crazy bastard and I knew it. My eyelids lowered upon the dark boots squeezing his ankles, wondering if they featured a steel toe that’s knocked out more teeth than a dentist, then my gaze swept onto the blood smear across his cheek and the midnight tresses shielding his sharp cheekbones. My small hand slipped underneath the glossy strands and nearly cupped against his cheek as my knuckles brushed the strands away from that male model jawline God gave him. “You’re taller than I remember you being. Now where the hell is my prize?”

I stomped my heavy steel-toe combat boot on his damn foot, pressed hard as I could against the bone until a sweet crack broke the silence. Ah, how long has it been since I broke one of his bones? My oppressive foot anchored him to the floor as I cocked my blonde head at him, allowing curious eyes to flitter about his features, “Aren’t you s’pposed to suck my neck or somethin’? I heard vampire blood is pretty bitter so I’ll settle for someplace else.” My hand stroked up his shoulder and squeezed its ruby nails real tight onto the bone as my green eyes bored into his skull with a playful smirk curling the corners of my mouth. I finally walked past him towards a crypt full of beer in the back. If there was ever a time to be drunk, now was it.

I glanced down at the necks of glass bottles and aluminum cans buried inside a million ice cubes. My hand reached down for one, didn’t give my eyes a chance to see the label, and settled my nails underneath the pull tab. I violently shook the can before me as I strode back towards my progeny and when we came face to face I snatched back the tab and a fountain of foam sprayed upward, decorating both our faces with cool liquor droplets.

I eyed a delicious trail slipping down the corner of his mouth and pressed my nose against his cheek as my tongue stroked up his freezing skin. “Mmm. Good old fashioned beer. Here sweetie.” My hand swung into his stomach, holding the foaming can out for him to drink. “Start off with a light drink so you can remember tonight.” Much as he may or may not want to remember this moment, I wasn’t giving him an option.

Back to top Go down

avatar

Re: [Private] Release the Bats

Daron Wynyard | Vampire; Young

Posted on Wed Jun 21, 2017 2:03 am

Of course, they just stood there. Which in some ways made me proud. That their curiosity outweighed the command of their Maker. On the other fucking hand, this was not the time to be growing a pair. Ignoring my requests due to a juicy exposed vein that presented itself in the form of the inspiration for my first single. There had been a time that Natasha had been all I had ever wanted. That sire bond had me in shackles and the only bitch to gain any wishes from this genie had been the one who had made the damn lamp. I had played at her bar night after night always dedicating songs to her even though I knew she wasn’t in the audience. There was only so much rejection that a true artists heart could handle. A pain that had become so agonizing I had turned off my humanity to destroy it. Natasha was a fucking bitch. Not in the way Noelle was one. Though I suppose in some ways I saw a little of my Maker in the infant just on a playing field that wasn’t littered with landmines. Hidden weapons that had a hundred per cent targeting capability because Natasha had all the locations. What often fucked me up and had led to me beginning to avoid her was that when tilted in one light, I knew allowing her to have control meant that I had none. Natasha was my walking chaos but at the same time she represented the most finite of imprisonment. A sire bond only she could break.

Asian holograms? My progeny were going to regret hanging around. I was going to see to that personally but in the meantime, they would have to endure the colorful use of the English language my Maker had. I think she just called us Pokemon. Kris looked to me awkwardly as if I should take offense to the nicknames given to my band. They chose to stay. They were going to have to put up with it. Even though moments ago they had surprised me, all of that was ruined when every single Vampire moved out of the way when Natasha approached me. Parting like a Bible Sea to allow some grand prophet to walk freely. I held my ground staring as stonily as possible at those deceptively innocent eyes. I was not going to allow her to see how her presence just made my skin crawl with a repulsive desire. As she touched me my lips opened in a slow motion warning snarl. Baring my fangs. “Relatives of band members should be forfeit don’t you think? Disqualified.”

My mouth was jarred open a little further as Natasha snaps the steel cap in my boots in two. Both halves of the metal slicing into my feet. The toes becoming crushed with the heavy pressure. I let out the beginnings of a groan but cut the end off, instead, grinding my teeth together and flexing my fists. Knuckles rippling white even through pale skin. “Sucking your neck wasn’t my first thought. I’m far more creative than that.” Each word came out marked with a hiss but my Maker had gone to help herself with refreshments so it was my Progeny who got to see the darkened glare of fury. An expression I expected none of them had yet seen. There were few things that got under my skin far enough to really make me furious. The concept of possibly seeing a man who appeared to have no compass loose his shit was enough to make all of them leave. Only Drew lingering in the doorway gaze locked on Natasha’s backward turned head of gold. All until I tilted my head sharply at him in a way that would only suggest I wasn’t playing any more games.

I’d barely gotten a chance to release my fingers from their death grip, nails creating continuously healing crescent moon shapes in my palms when cold foam shot up my face. It was enough to banish the glowering crease of my eyebrows so I could roll my eyes. My pupils stayed up in my skull as Natasha’s tongue drifted up my cheek, however. The bulge in my pants unable to tell the difference between poison and sugar. “Beer.” Forcing my sight to zero in on the beverage thrust toward me I sneered. “Don’t drink the brown piss anymore but you can go right ahead.” As a human, I had drunk nothing else. Whatever had been cheap and readily available. It had all been more about getting catatonic rather than enjoying the liquid that brought on late evening comae. The first night I met her I had bought her a fucking beer.

“What is it that you want me to remember? Your distaste for my shoes? Or the fact you actually recall the name of my band?” Why the hell had she bothered? She hadn’t even noticed I hadn’t sought her out in over fifty years. Never tugged on that bond. Been blind to any phone calls in the opposite direction. Not that I expected there to be any. What the fuck was she here for? I knew she wanted me to ask. It was the gargantuan behemoth in the room but I’d rather eat my own face with silver plated chopsticks than question her. Moving swiftly over to the couch I sat down and began unstrapping my boot. The wound, of course, would heal but not with shards of metal still embedded into it. Hindering the closure of tissue. Blood had begun to seep into the leather. Some things never changed.

“Beer just isn’t going to cut it. I’m going to need an intravenous injection of Absinthe to deal with you.” The whole time I stayed focused on the removal of my footwear. It disgusted me that I was very aware of a part of me that was glad to see her. No amount of alcohol was going to drown the village idiot who gleefully welcomed the sight of his Maker. The only course of action was to throw the slobbering window licking retard in the recesses of my brain and tell him not to eat the toxic paste.

Back to top Go down

Page 1 of 2 1, 2  Next

View previous topic View next topic Back to top


 
Index is best viewed using Google Chrome.
Site Designed and Coded by Evie.
Administrator & Founder: Evie.

Forum Statistics