|
Post by Damon Delatorre on Jul 28, 2012 8:34:07 GMT 1
Damon looked at the corpse of the half eaten woman who was now outlined in chalk. It was a stupid tradition, outlining the body that way. Five minutes after she was removed, no one would care if a dead woman had been found there. He stared at the scene for what seemed like an eternity to the other investigators before turning to face them.
"It's our serial killer. Same MO, call girl in her mid thirties, cheap perfume, pocket full of scripts she is obviously too poor to be in possession of. Her lips are swollen from heavy kissing, illegal contraceptives in her purse, one heel broken from running and among the Lycan bite marks, you see human ones, here..." he pointed at her breast where a nasty bite had been inflicted, "...and here..." he pointed at a second bite on her shoulder. "Multiple stab wounds with a 6 inch blade and I am sure if there was much left of her lower half, we would see that he had sex with her postmortem." he made a face and shuddered, "Sick bastard." he muttered. "Wrap her up boys, we aren't after the Lycans this time, we are after The Ripper." he turned and began walking, deep in thought.
Damon knew there was more to the story but for now, the woman needed to be taken off the street. Something had scared the Lycans off. It wasn't the killer since he was long since gone before the lunar beasts discovered the body. There was something out there that frightened the Lycans who, in themselves, were one of the most frightening creatures on the planet.Damon loved a good mystery. It was not often he was able to entertain himself with such investigations. He needed a place to sit and think. There was a place nearby that suited his taste. They made fantastic tea and biscuits. As the body recovery team began clearing the crime scene, Damon walked down the footpath, whistling. It only took him five minutes to get to the sleepy little coffee lounge. All he had to do was walk in and sit down and withing two minutes, his hot cuppa and a plate of biscuits were placed in front of him.
"Anything else, Detective?" the young man who was one of the owners of the establishment asked him.
"I never ask for anything else, why do you ask me every time?" he asked curiously, not quite understanding the frivolity of the act. "No thank you." he corrected himself.
The man walked away and he sat there sipping his tea and staring out the window.
"Excuse me." he heard a voice ask, "Is anyone joining you? Because that seems to be the only vacant seat left in the whole place." He looked up to see a smiling face.
"No, not at all, be my guest." he said absently and stared out the window again. He vaguely noticed who occupied the seat across from him.
|
|
|
Post by menarose on Jul 29, 2012 5:45:17 GMT 1
Mena shifted restlessly in the small bed provided for her at the Casino. Every evening was preceded by the same dream; never waning and always repetitious. The dream was always so realistic. It was as if she lived through the ordeal herself…
Of course she did. Every afternoon prior to the beginning of yet another day of punishment as a blood slave she relived the events that brought her to her current set of circumstances. She had been tired of feeling subjugated under the ruling thumb of the vampires. Her mom, ever the dutiful drone, went to work every night as a blood donor. It paid very well and they were allowed to live in some form of ease but she hated seeing her mom with fang marks on her. She hated it fervently. She dreamed day in and day out of escaping the city to live in Haven where humans were free of vampires. She had begged her mom on so many occasions to just leave New Vegas and begin anew. Mena’s mom was rather used to her cushioned lifestyle, especially after catching the eye of a vampire, and wanted nothing to do with hard labor.
She would never listen though so Mena thought she would take matters into her own hands. Her mom had been seeing a vampire male for some time and he would stay over most days since having her home fitted for a vampire’s death sleep. She would make her mom see reason. So one morning right after he went into death sleep Mena entered her mom’s room and staked the vampire, only to become completely shocked at the fact that he did not die. She was even more shocked at the fact that her mom called the VSF on her.
So much for blood being thicker than the undead…
The VSF hauled her off to the council for sentencing. Coucilwoman Tulani, having taking a liking to the fact that she could pass for Arab royalty, decided to make her a blood slave to Arabian nights. She would work there as a blood donor. Mena could remember it so clearly. Her mother had been there to watch her sentencing, sneering at her after it was decided she would not be killed. “How could she do this to me?” she thought mentally. “I only wanted to help her escape the entrapment she was in.” She could remember the solitary tear that escaped her eye as she turned away from her mother to begin her punishment.
Mena’s eyes opened the instant he gaze was torn off of her mother’s sneering glare.
“Fuck my life…” She groaned silently as she quoted mentally what had come to be her catchphrase. She really did need something, anything in the midst of all of this that made what she lived through now somewhat worth it.Glancing over at the clock she realized it was till early afternoon. Maybe, just maybe she could sneak out and do something different for a change and be back in time to perform her required duties. Mena quickly showered and donned clothes. She had in her possession a few credits she received as tips even though no one was required to give them to her. It was odd gesture for them.
She left the club in a hurry and wandered about until she found herself in front of a quaint coffee shop. She entered with haste only to find the shop was bustling with people, so much so that there were few seats remaining. She noticed a handsome man sitting alone. She smiled at the fact that everyone here was human. No one to try and feast on her blood tonight. She purchased a coffee and walked up to him, smile still on her face.
"Excuse me, Is anyone joining you? Because that sees to be the only vacant seat left in the whole place."
"No, not at all, be my guest." Mena gave pause before sitting down. Though he was very polite his response was distant, indifferent. She decided to not let that bother her. This was a rare opportunity and she would soak it up like the Sun she so rarely sees these days. She took her seat, sipping on the finest brew she had the pleasure of ingesting in a long while. "That really hits the spot! I'm Mena Rose. Thanks for letting me share this table. Ande you are?"
|
|
|
Post by Malach on Jul 29, 2012 6:03:44 GMT 1
Malach was bored already.
He was angry with Caleb for being careless and fragile and getting hurt like he had and especially for not making a wish whilst he still could. Malach had not yet finished playing with Caleb and he very much resented being deprived of his company prematurely. It was no fun amusing himself in Styx when there was no-one there who could appreciate his wit. One of the staff had even tried to tell him to stop and that had not ended well for the vampire at all. Sometimes Malach despaired of the stupidity of humans, even the undead ones who had at least had a few centuries to learn better manners.
The Magister from the Casino was still the single most intriguing thing he had encountered since Caleb had summoned him. Unfortunately he was also singularly the most dangerous. More than once Malach had been tempted to go and call on the vampire and to draw him into a game whether he willed it or no, but that required patience and care, neither of which Malach was in possession of right now, if ever. Whilst he could theoretically go back to the Casino or visit one of the others, that game was old already. Right now he was just bored and the great big city did not seem so great or big after all.
What he needed was a new game with a new player. The idea had dawned on him that perhaps a Lycan might make a good playmate; they were quite durable and some were even as old as the vampires. He had never gotten the impression however of them being particularly bright, and that might be a deal breaker. He had still been mulling over whether it might be worth the risk of calling on the VSF Chief when he drifted across an interesting compromise option. He had been absently looking for lycans and here was the VSF investigating lycans. Perhaps one of the Magister's little protégés would be fair game for Malach?
Malach lurked and listened, his presence no more than a breath of golden mist lost in the summer heat haze. He listened... and he very much liked what he heard. Oh yes, this was a clever one. Ideas began to hatch in Malach's mind like a wriggling nest of cobras. He wanted this one, and that meant one way or another he was going to have him. He followed the young human detective to the coffee shop and watched him go inside. Now how best to get his attention?
“Damn but it's too hot! Don't you think it so? They should make it rain more. What do we have elementals for if they can't keep it cooler? Damn! I wish I wasn't so hot...” “Granted.” Malach muttered. The irritating stream of chatter from the woman walking past the coffee lounge window came to an abrupt halt as she promptly turned blue and began to shake uncontrollably before collapsing on the pavement with a sudden case of hypothermia and extreme frostbite.
Malach shimmered back into his humanoid form, still clad only in the gold embroidered, azure silk pants and emerald sash he had been wearing in Arabian Nights. He peered at the detective through the glass of the window and winked.
|
|
|
Post by Damon Delatorre on Aug 1, 2012 17:17:23 GMT 1
Damon wondered at humans and their rituals of digging for information… First, she would want his name, then what he did for a living, and then god knew what else. Damon never knew how to respond in a way that didn’t make people uncomfortable. That was why he had no friends, not that he needed any. Being raised by Vampires, it was perfectly alright for him to not show emotions that he felt were useless and unneeded. However, is society, it was considered rude to not answer the inquiry of another regarding his name. So Damon turned once again from the window and extended his hand in the customary fashion, “Damon Delatorre. Pleased to meet you.” His icey blue eyes locked on hers and he noticed what a beautiful shade of brown they were, quite captivating actually. His head tilted slightly to the side and the corner of his mouth turned up just a bit as he fought back the smile that might give her the wrong idea.
Damon’s attention turned back toward the window as the site of movement out of the corner of his eyes. He looked in time to see a woman fall to the ground; shaking uncontrollably and a man appear beside her. That wink told him volumes. This person or creature was up to mischief and was most certainly the cause of the woman’s unfortunate circumstance. “Excuse me.” He muttered and got up from the table to make haste outside.
The small gathering crowed annoyed him. People seemed to never be able to tear their eyes away from another’s tragedy. “Back up! Back up! VSF here.” He announced and took out his badge and waved it around for people to see. That was one benefit to being on the police force, people feared the VSF most of the time or at least respected it. He immediately lowered himself near the woman and took out his communication device and placed it in his ear. “Detective Delatorre here. I need a medical evac at the Pit Stop, “ he looked up at the man who was clad only in gold trousers and a sash and shook his head, unamused. “Looks like a supernatural attack, mutant, elemental or something or other. Doesn’t matter what it was, just send an evac unit equipped for hypothermia. And send a special teams unit, it seems a super natural being has lost control of his impulses.” He reached in his coat pocket and quickly pulled out a pad of paper and his pencil flew over it. He looked up at Malach once or twice before putting the pad of paper and the pencil away.
Damon looked around at the crowd, “Nothing to see here, be about your business.” He commanded. He was glad some foot patrol officers showed up to help him disperse the crowd. He turned and locked eyes with Malach, “I don’t know what you are, but I know you did this.” He said evenly, with no emotion. “I don’t know what makes you think you are above the laws of this city, but harming a human is punishable by death. However, I can see that death does not frighten you, nor do the authorities. Which means you are quite old and very clever.” The creature intrigued him but only for a moment. “I have your description here and I will be forwarding it on to the special teams unit who have ways of dealing with very old and very clever mischief makers. I suggest you make your way along before they arrive and go ruin someone else’s day…I’m off the clock.” He turned to go back inside but the crowd of people who were inside the Pit Stop were blocking the door. “Back inside everyone, nothing to see.” He stretched his arms out to herd them back inside. “My beverage it getting cold.” He said in a bored and annoyed fashion. He noticed the girl again and wanted to continue practicing his social skills, “Now, where were we? Ah yes, Damon Delatorre, Detective Damon Delatorre. I am very pleased to meet you.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Whatever you do, don’t make a wish; I am fairly certain that man is a Djinn. A very dangerous one in fact.” He continued back to his table and sat down. He picked up his cup and took a sip. He noticed the man’s eyes were still on him through the window so he made a shooing motion with his fingers. He had no desire to play with a psychopath right now, he was busy.
|
|
|
Post by Malach on Aug 2, 2012 5:07:18 GMT 1
Malach met Damon's eyes with an expression of amused curiosity. The human had such pretty eyes and that was important to Malach who's first impressions of people tended to be shallow, superficial and petty. Damon also maintained that same reserved demeanour that Malach had found so very enthralling in Caleb, an almost vampiric calm, so unusual for a human. His eyes roamed over the young detective searching for any hint that he was possessed of the same power as the Magister but he saw none. “They do it to themselves...” he purred, “I need do nothing when they are so eager.”
Malach was not at all used to being dismissed and he pouted petulantly as the human turned away. He had expected a better reception after he had been thoughtful enough not to interrupt the clever little speech the detective had given at his crime scene. Well if that was the game he wanted to play then Malach would oblige him. If it was a villan he required he could have one. Caleb had called him 'nice' once, but 'nice' got him what he wanted from Caleb. He watched Damon walk away and the glitter in his mismatched blue/green eyes was not 'nice' at all.
When Damon returned to his seat back inside the shop and made his small dismissive gesture, Malach gave a wicked smirk and mimicked the gesture back at him. However when Malach did it a spray of liquid green fire flew from his fingertips towards the window. The glass melted instantly where they hit with a little fizzing sound that showered those closest to the window with tiny droplets of molten glass before the thermal shock sent cracks running all through it and the window collapsed into a million fragments tinkling to the floor accompanied by the djinni's tinkling laughter.
Malach loved the sound of breaking glass and it took almost nothing to encourage him to make it happen anywhere he went. “Your suggestion is my command Detective Delatorre...” he giggled as he disintegrated into a swirl of golden mist. “...and by the by... whispering doesn't help you....” the musical voice echoed around the coffee lounge but Malach was already gone.
|
|
|
Post by menarose on Aug 3, 2012 7:13:59 GMT 1
Mena Rose sipped slowly on her drink, relishing in it rich aroma and supple flavor. She drank it black. No need to doll up this beverage with creams and sugars; nice and strong. She smiled in spite the ambivalence she felt. She was happy, giddy almost to be out in the presence of other people. Yet for some strange reason she felt herself missing the Casino. Was this some sort of psychosis? Was becoming a blood slave meant to break her will and make her enjoy the presence of Vampires? The thought shook her to her very core. The smile quickly left her face.
The man sitting across from her claimed his name to be Damon Delatorre. Hmmm Damon…it had a nice ring to it. It sounded deep and broody, just like what the man across from her appeared to be. Looks could be deceiving however so she reserved judgment until she found out more about if, if she did that is. No sooner than having received his name he excused himself from the table. Her eyes widened. Did she forget to put on her odor masking cream under her arms? She leaned her head down when no one was looking and sniffed near her underarm quickly; nope no smell there, just flower fresh.
Mena watch with intrigue as Damon walked outside. Though it was slightly muffled she could hear what he was saying and it frightened her. He was VSF? But he was human! She had heard of humans working for the VSF before but she had never seen on in person. Oh this was not good. If someone found out that she stole out of the Casino Anika would have her head on a platter. She had yet to earned leave privileges; would seem that she couldn’t keep herself out of trouble. If Anika finds out about this she’ll never earn them. She’ll be lucky if they don’t lock her up in a room when not feeding the clientele. Mena groaned audibly. She must have the unluckiest life ever.
So wrapped in her own thoughts she paid no attention to the muffled conversation between Damon and the shirtless man. She was contemplating how to make an unsuspicious hasty exit when Damon arrived back to the table, his voice jarring her back to reality. “Now where were we? Ah Yes, Damon Delatorre, Detective Damon Delatorre. I am very pleased to meet you.” When he leaned in and whispered into her ear, his breath a whisper on her ear, she could help but react. He was handsome and despite the warning bells going off in her head her body reacted in a pleasurable shiver. She was only human after all and sometimes they react without will to stop to baser needs. “I won’t.” She whispered barely audible.
With steel reserves Mena continued to sip on her coffee. She watched as Damon shooed away a bystander; one with no shirt on and a sash around his waist. Her left eyebrow piqued in curiosity at the quick dismissal. Her eyes were too focused on Damon to notice the next events. One moment she was looking straight at him, the next He was in between her and the glass. She heard fizzing and the glass to the coffee house shattered into a cascade of shards. Without thinking Mena clutched to the back of Damon’s shirt and held on tightly. Someone spoke in an almost maniacal giggle “You suggestion is my command Detective Delatorre…and by the way…whispering doesn’t help you.”
Never had Mena encountered an all consuming fear as she had when she heard the voice. Instinctively she clutched Damon’s shirt tighter…..what the hell was going on??
|
|
|
Post by Damon Delatorre on Aug 7, 2012 9:50:35 GMT 1
Damon watched the woman who was obviously a tangle of stressful thought. In but a moment of study he figured out who and what she was. Human, but refined with products only those privileged would have. Nervous, as if she was worried about getting caught doing something wrong, not young so not a parent...a master. Blood slave out for a stroll. Fire, deep in those beautiful mahogany eyes; a natural instinct for rebellion. A despiser of the Vampire species.
Damon sighed softly and looked back outside the window, which he was right up against, that would count him out as even a friend with his parents being Vampires. He only had a moment to think of what to do next when he saw the green misty tendrils reaching for the window. He didn't know what it was but it was most certainly not good. Instinct tore him from his seat and across the table, pressing his back against the girl and shielding his face as the molten glass spattered his clothing, bringing its way into his skin, the remainder of the glass shattering and raining onto him, leaving tiny cuts all over his bare hands.
When he looked again, the Djinn was gone. He quickly turned, peeling his jacket from her hands as he lowered his bloody hands to beat at the burning clothing, only making the glass burn deeper into his skin. "Are you..." he stopped and hiss, tearing his shirt open then peeling his jacket and shirt from his rippled torso. "Are you alright?" It was lucky that at that moment the medical EVAC had arrived and a call for reinforcements went out.
The burning just didn't seem to stop and felt as if it was getting deeper. He looked down and tried to pull the bits of molten glass out but they burned his fingers. He reached over to the table and grabbed a spoon and used the handle to begin digging the bits out. "That man doesn't know it yet but that was the dumbest thing he ever did. Mother and Father will be so angry." he whimpered as he worked. Upon quickly glancing around, he noticed all those who had been close to the windows were in the same shape.
|
|
|
Post by menarose on Aug 9, 2012 1:31:51 GMT 1
Damon’s clothing was quickly snatched out of her hands as he turned around swiftly to assess if Mena was indeed ok. Her fear widened eyes met his as she nodded yes to him, incapable for the brief moment of speaking. He was beating at his clothing with bloody hands. Had he not been there; had he not instinctively shielded her from the brunt of the damage who knows what would have happened to her when she returned to Arabian Nights. Whatever it would have been, it would not have been good. She shuddered to think of even the smallest possibility of what would have been dealt out as punishment.
He quickly had relieved himself of his upper body clothing and was using a spoon to dig pieces of molten glass out of his skin. He was a strong one but even the strongest man would have problems dealing with glass that was still burning as was evident with him faintly whimpering. Mena’s heart was heavy with both gratitude and a need to comfort him, to help him in any way she could. It didn’t appear that the spoon was helping; rather it was hurting him further. She grabbed a couple of coffee stirrers from the table. They were wooden and small enough in size to get underneath the bits of glass. She gently swatted at the hand that held the spoon in an effort to stop him from continuing. “Let me help you. It’s the least I can do after you took that damage protecting me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for thing great kindness.” She looked into his eyes as she spoke so that he could see the sincerity of what she spoke. She then gently placed her right hand on his torso to keep the skin from pulling with the glass.
Trying to be as gentle as she could Mena removed all of the glass from his Torso and hands in a painstaking manner. She did not want even one tiny piece of molten glass or glass shard remaining. She noted mentally that he would probably scar form this incident but not ever scars could or would detract from his handsome body. Her cheeks blushed slightly at the thought. “There all done with you.” Looking at her handiwork she spoke again. “That’s not so bad, now is it?” She said as she looked up at him. Noticing the clock behind him Panic filled her. It would not matter if she ran as fast as she could. She would not make it back to the Casino in time without a ride and a ride was exactly what she did not have. “Oh no…” Her eyes filled slightly with unshed tears. “I’ll never make it back in time…” Mena’s frightened eyes met his again. “I’m so sorry. I have to go.” She said as she turned to flee out the door.
|
|
|
Post by Damon Delatorre on Aug 12, 2012 13:26:40 GMT 1
Damon didn't know how to react to this behavior by the girl. He was not used to anyone wanting to help him because he had always been so independent and he generally didn't like to be touched by anyone. The spoon was unceremoniously snatched from his hand and discarded. He would have protested and argued that doing it himself hurt less and that pain was always a temporary inconvenience but for some reason, he simply let the girl have her way. He looked down and watched her work, noticing how delicately she worked. The burning eventually stopped and was replaced by the sting of fresh wounds.
Suddenly she was finished and speaking to him. He looked at her blankly before opening his mouth to answer her. But suddenly she looked frightened and worried. The unshed tears in her eyes confused him and he tilted his head to the side, wrinkling his brow. Then, she got up and ran out. He was going to follow her but medics filed in and he was pushed back down in his seat before he could stand up all the way. He had no choice but to let her go.
Twenty minutes later, Damon stood at his parents door, freshly bandaged and scowling. His mother immediately made him sit down and bit her wrist. She removed his bandages and began smearing her blood on him. It was not the first time she had done this in his life and he was not grossed out in the slightest. It was healing medicine and it felt good to get rid of the stings and aches. Of course he had to repeat what happened twice and warn his father not to go near the Djinn no matter how angery he was. While his father was on the phone with Mathias, Damon was left to the doting of his mother.
"I met a woman..." he interrupted her ministration.
"A wom...what? Was she a vampire, do you want me to turn you so you can be with her?" Always the same thing coming from his parents. When would he let them turn him.
"No, she was human but she was afraid of something. And I told you, I will let you turn me when I am ready. You know I don't want to grow old but I am just not ready." he informed his mother. "I am going to find her. I..." he dropped his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know why." he muttered softly.
"Damon," his mother cupped his face and made him make eye contact, "You just follow your heart. It knows why and in time, you will too." she smiled softly at him and began to clean him up.
Damon sighed, "What if I can't do it? What if...I'm just too different." he asked without emotion. He never knew why he sucked at relationships. Maybe it was because he didn't understand why people reacted to things they did; why they did what they did; what was the use of relationships; why did they hold hands; why did they kiss; why did they laugh; why did they cry? It all stumped him. Why was the girl going to cry? That seemed to worry him most of all.
All night he tossed and turned, once again not sleeping more than an hour before getting up with determination to find the girl who was now haunting him. Three hours digging at the station and he found her. She was a blood slave...that would make anyone cry.
Two hours later, Damon walked into The Arabian Nights casino, looking for the girl, Mena. He flashed her picture at employees, each pointed him in a different direction. In the pocket of his jacket was an envelop full of credit scripts from his parents and a petition to transfer ownership. Sometimes his parents drove him spare with their doting on him, but this time, he didn't argue.
The last employee he asked pointed at the back of a woman dressed like an Arabian princess, looking miserable and sipping at a beverage. He almost didn't recognize her. He walked up behind her then stopped. He was unsure what to say. He felt tongue tied. "Uh...hello, Mena. Do you remember me? Detective Damon Delatore. We met..." he suddenly snapped his mouth shut. He knew she was not supposed to have been out of the casino unescorted so he practiced a skill his mother taught him and lied, "by the pool, last night?" he finished looking unsure. Did he do that right?
|
|
|
Post by menarose on Aug 13, 2012 5:37:23 GMT 1
Mena sprinted towards Arabian Nights trying her best to channel the speed of a vampire. She may not like them but damn could they run! She knew there would be no way in hell she could just walk right into the club and get away with. No she had to think smart. What would be the best way to enter the Casino without someone noticing that she wasn’t there in the beginning? This is going to be tricky indeed. There’s a possibility that she would be caught by the surveillance cameras, but that was a risk she would have to take.
As she approached the Casino it appeared that no one was in the pool area at the moment. It still wasn’t dark enough to support vampires being outside yet. This just may be her break. She sided herself up against the wall of the building just around the corner from the pool. It was closed off with a fence but the fence was short and she would be able to cross it easily. Peeking around the corner Mena checked for any activity and quickly ducked back around. Mentally bracing herself, she left the corner and walked up to the gate swiftly. Grabbing the top of the gate that came up to her chest in height she jumped and propelled herself over the fence. She missed her landing and stumbled forward. Mena had never been one for finesse and it best showed itself now. She was unable to right herself and stumbled until she ended up in the deep end of the pool with an audible squeak of protest.
Climbing out of the pool with as much dignity as she could bear she marched to the table of fresh towels and picked one up. She dried herself off as best as she could before rushing inside. Mena had hoped to not see anyone on her march of wet shame to her room, but would not be the bearer of such luck. As she turned the corner in a blind hurry she nearly ran into Jaylyn, one of the bouncers for the Casino.
He possessed an ear to ear grin. “Have yourself a good trip did you?” he managed to say without erupting in his ridiculous chortling.
Mena grounded her teeth before plastering a fake smile on her face and responding. “It was very refreshing to say the least. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to freshen up so I don’t smell like pool water.” She moved to walk around him when he put his arm out to block her path.
“While you’re at it you might want to shower off the stench of sweat from running over from the pit stop. Little bit you know nothing passes these walls without one of knowing about. Since your little stunt gave me and the guys such a giggle we’re not going to report you to the boss this time. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. You remember the last time you disobeyed her. She nearly drained you without caring what the council would say about it. See to it you stay within the confines of the Casino or AT LEAST petition one of us to take you wherever it is you want to go.”
Mena blanched at his words. So they knew the whole time she was gone? She really was trapped in this godforsaken hellhole! She looked up at Jaylyn and nodded her assent then when his arm lowered she sprinted to her room quickly showered, blow dried her hair, apply smoky eyed makeup, donned her Arabian Nights costume and headed down to the main casino. She spent the first hour walking the casino, offering wrist or neck to the customers. It was such a degrading job and she was far better than that of a blood slave. She knew it in her heart that she was. Eventually she would be free of these bonds and she would leave the city straightaway and beg the Havenites to allow her to join them. Forget mom; forget all of those who think to use her. She would have her day when none of this world in New Vegas mattered. That is what kept her sane.
Yet in the back recesses of her mine there was a man. A handsome man with beguiling, soul searching eyes and a smirk that would make even the strongest woman melt. That man made her doubt her reasons for leaving the new Sin City. She must remain focused. She doubted that she would even see him again. No decent high ranking human would sully themselves with a blood slave. They got nothing from it. Blood slaves, from what she understood could only be used for sex by a vampire would paid for their blood services. Or at least that’s what she perceived it to be. Fortunately she had yet to experience it.
Once Mena made her required rounds she ordered a mint flavored water and snuck off to the very back of the Casino, plopping herself on the comfy couch. She passed the time slowly sipping on her drink and night dreaming of the man at the coffee shop; about what it would be like to meet him not as a blood slave, but as an unindentured human, an equal almost. What would that have been like?
“Uh…hello Mena. Do you remember me? Detective Damon Delatore. We met…” There was a pause as she nearly jumped out of her skin and semi choked on her drink. “By the pool, last night.” Could things become more embarrassing and belittling? He now knew what she did. How, she could only imagine. Did he research her? Find out why she became a blood slave? How mortifying! And to top things off since he knew what she was he was trying to cover for her.
Her face turned beat red as she turned to face him. He was still just as handsome as he was at the café earlier. She smiled faintly. “You don’t have to cover for me Damon. They knew the moment I ‘snuck’ out. Guess I’m not as stealthy as I thought myself to be. Please take a seat.” She motioned to the seat beside her. “Had I known that I would have saved myself the embarrassment of landing myself in the pool trying to hop over the gate beside it.” She shifted in her seat and took another sip of her mint water while she tucked a silken strand of hair behind her ear. “So what brings you here tonight?”
|
|
|
Post by Damon Delatorre on Aug 16, 2012 15:57:40 GMT 1
Damon’s mind was always calculating, thinking, conspiring, figuring and solving all at once. To understand what was going on in his head the moment he looked into her eyes one would have to imagine a busy freeway, suddenly stopped cold; horns honking, people shouting, fists waving. Damon’s mind had gone blank for the very first time in his life and he didn’t like that feeling. The stirring of confusion in his rattled brain caused such discomfort that he actually made a pained face. Suddenly, everything started going again and his thoughts came together again.
Damon forced the signature smile that was so endearing to his mother because she knew how hard it was. One corner of his mouth lifted and his perfect teeth showed behind his smiling lips. He never understood emotions and he didn’t understand why he wanted to know this woman and to have her near him. That brought him back to the reason he was there. “I wonder if your mistress would be available to speak to. I have a message and request for her from my parents.” He said without emotion.
Damon had been born in the lab, the product of reproduction donors born at the request of his parents who wanted to adopt a human child. He never knew who his birth mother was but she didn’t matter. She was probably paid very well to give birth to a child she would never love. Love was redundant but he was lucky enough to be loved very deeply by the couple who adopted him. What little he was able to feel emotionally was the product of his parents love and support.
He realized what kind of confusion his request might cause her because most humans did not make requests of Vampires. “My parents are vampires.” He informed her just to assuage the confusion his first statement may have caused. He didn’t like silly questions so he provided answers before they could be asked. “I was adopted.” Now he was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. “Do you know if she would be available?”
|
|
|
Post by menarose on Aug 20, 2012 7:35:44 GMT 1
Mena gave pause, a look of concern shadowed her face as she gazed upon Damon’s face only to see the pained expression on his face; just as quickly as it appeared it disappeared. Quite odd, especially given that it was replaced with a Cheshire cat smile. Mena’s heart fluttered at the sight of his grin and her lips parted slightly in surprise. The vibes he gave off made Damon to be a man incapable of smiling. It was rather pleasant and she found herself hoping to see that devilish grin of his more often.
“I wonder if your mistress would be available to speak to. I have a request for her from my parents.”
Damon’s voice was flat; straight to the point with no need of dallying in emotion. Mena’s brows furrowed automatically as she attempted to rationalize how his parents would have a request for a vampire, a councilwoman at that. Humans petitioning the vampire ruling class of New Vegas was rather odd sounding; an almost impossible scenario.
“My parents are vampires.”
Mena’s mouth open as she was about to fire off with questions. ‘How are your parents vampires?’ ‘What do they want with my mistress?’ How did you become the son of vampires?’ all of these questions were firing off in rapid sequence in her head.
“I was adopted.”
Mena’s mouth closed at his next statement since it answered a good portion of the questions she had. It also made her look at him a little differently. She wasn’t sure how much she liked the idea. Would she have felt different towards them if she had been raised from infancy as the child of one? It was an interesting concept to fathom but still not one that tickled her fancy.
As Mena continued to gaze at him his presence changed a little. He seemed…not comfortable. “Do you know if he would be available?” She regarded him for a moment before she spoke. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her on the casino floor yet. She normally makes rounds periodically throughout the night.” She held up a finger to wait as she noticed Jaylyn walking about nearby. “I’ll go ask Jaylyn know that someone is looking for Councilwoman Tulani.” She grinned. “She tends to hurry when her title is mentioned; likes to feel important and all that.”
Mena hurried over to Jaylyn and told him that Detective Delatore was looking for Councilwoman Tulani. She was full of giggles on the inside. Anika would not be happy that she rushed to speak to Damon, not realizing it was nothing important. She could just imagine Anika’s eyes narrowing into small slits in irritation. Mena could always feign ignorance. ‘He told me he was a detective so I thought for sure it was important! Forgive me mistress!’ Oh it would be hilarious.
Mena returned to Damon just as quickly as she left. “My mistress will be down promptly.” She looked around for a moment to see if she was needed. When it as apparent she wasn’t she relaxed a little more. “I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t think you will have need of my services. So instead would you like a mint water or something from the bar while you wait?”
|
|
|
Post by Damon Delatorre on Aug 23, 2012 22:07:03 GMT 1
The beguiling woman who had caught his interest with such intensity intrigued Damon. She seemed to be mildly afraid of her mistress as most humans were. He knew other blood slaves that did not fear their masters and mistresses but he often met the ones who were Councilwoman Tulani’s slaves, most were afraid of her. He was not afraid of any vampire. His parents were vampires and therefore, he was theirs. He was also the golden boy of the VSF investigations division. He solved 80% of the unsolved cases in the city. Not only his parents, but also Mathias himself would set upon any vampire who harmed him.
The woman seemed a little hyper and edgy. He wondered if she was like that all the time. Maybe she was excited to see him. That would be a nice thing, he thought. In her eyes was a flash of mischief as she spoke to the man about fetching their mistress and he felt the corner of his mouth turn up again. Was that a real smile or was he just getting into the habit. He reached up and touched his cheek just above the corner of his mouth. How intriguing. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small notebook that he kept notes about his experiences with trying to be social. “I think I smiled for real today. I can’t be sure about it. It might be a learned response. Further research is required.” He closed the notebook and put it back in his pocket and looked at the woman as she returned.
The offer of a mint water was unsavory. He quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. “Plain water would be welcome. “ he looked toward the bartender. “I can get it.” He walked away from her and to the bar. His black leather jacket went just to his belt line which allowed a great view of his perfect rump under his tight black jeans. He leaned against the bar and motioned for the bartender to come over. He rested his weight on one leg and put the other on the footrest under the bar.
When Damon turned around he felt eyes on him. He looked around and noticed how some people were looking away as if to make him think they had not been looking at him in the first place. Had he been self conscious, he might have thought they were conspiring against him. But, he wasn’t. he just thought people stared at him behind his back because he was VSF and they wondered what he was doing. The badge clipped to his belt was telltale as well as the badge that hung around his neck with his dog tags. He walked over to Mena and sat down beside her. “Are you afraid of your mistress?” he asked bluntly.
|
|
|
Post by Damon Delatorre on Oct 14, 2012 10:06:33 GMT 1
I'm not waiting two months for a post, sorry...
ENDED
|
|