Young Writers Society

Aurelia Bellomore

I watched him patiently, waiting for his first decisive act as more and more of the bar's attendants gathered around. All this because the council simply decided to ban wolves? she thought incredulously, it was strange that this man should care where the damned wolves go but he insisted the bar be for all supernatural creatures which in turn defied the council meaning he either had to kill her or accept the council's orders.

Rianna entered and took a quick glance around at the men and women hooting for a fight. None of them were anyone she would intentionally tangle with--though she could handle herself in a physical brawl, she rather preferred to poison someone under the table.

She took a seat along the unmanned bar and rolled her eyes. Whatever had her in such a cross mood? Some days she just felt it, she supposed. Ah well. She'd come here to flirt and have fun, unwind from the demands of a flu-stricken infirmary. There were a number of attractive men around, and in truth she did love to watch a handsome man handle himself. Rianna untied her black waves and let them fall over her shoulders with a sigh, "Next best thing to dinner and a show."

- Victore Roedell Zeal -

He pushed open the heavy metal doors to the bar, his hand lingering a moment on the handle as he walked in, his grey eyes were bright with fervor as he made his way to the bar stool next to Rianna. He ignored her for the most part, taking out a pack of cigarettes and tapping one into his shaking hand. He placed it between his lips, put the carton away and grabbed a lighter to light it. He tossed them empty lighter to the ground, sighing in agitation as he took a drag on the cigarette, inhaling the poisonous fumes. It relaxed his nerves, and he finally looked around the bar. Men and women were hooting in a cajoling tone for a fight while in the midst of the ruckus stood two - a man and a woman - people glaring at eachother. It was more of a staredown than anything. He turned to the unmaned bar and closed his eyes, resting his head in his sweaty palms while he tried to ease his pounding headache.

Izzy Deitrich

Looking about the crowded space, I noticed a few--well many, but few notable--strange things. First amidst the arguing and cackling and growling were two dogs. Second, the two dogs were conversing. I felt my eye twitch. Last, a kid, a few years younger than myself was sitting dejectedly in a chair near the entrance looking totally confused and anxious. Besides the boy being, like, nine or something and sitting in a bar, the strange thing was that he made no move to leave despite all the violence going on around him. I grinned to myself, feeling particularly devilish today as a brilliant scheme formed in my mind.
Just as I was about to approach the poor unsuspecting boy, the door jingled behind me, and in waltzed a tall man with disheveled hair who made his way directly toward a woman who had entered shortly after myself. He pulled out a cigarette and set the cylinder between his lips, and I felt my nicotine addiction punch me in the frontal lobe. I sighed as I observed him and the woman sitting, staring at one another while he lit the cigarette. I licked my lips.
"Screw social skills," I muttered under my breath before stalking over to the bar, mind one focused on more dire issues than harassing some kid.
Approaching the man's side--he didn't even look up as I came closer--I tapped him on the shoulder, forcing a sweet and unassuming expression onto my face when all o really want was to yank the cigarette out of his mouth. When he looked up, I smiled cutely, swallowing my disgust as I batted my eyelashes at his distracted and hardened face.
"Excuse me, sir," I murmured, clasping my hands in front of my lap and swishing my russet bangs out of my eyes. "Could I bother you for a cigarette?"

- Victore Zeal -

He looked up at the girl, she'd asked for a cigarette he had heard distantly. He looked down as the girl stood before him with a nearly undisguised longing for a cigarette but with a tired sigh I shook my head, "Sorry but I don't support children with a nicotine addiction."

Izzy Deitrich

"Children?" I scoffed, arching a brow as he just gazed back disinterestedly at me. "I'm no child you pompous jerk."
I shifted my weight to favor my left leg, folding my arms across my chest and awaiting a reply from my bratty remark.
Disappointingly, he just sighed. "Is that so?" he muttered, smoke blowing from his nostrils like a dragon. "How old are you then?"
"I'm eighteen," I said. "I've been smoking since I was twelve, so it's not like your lack of support for my bad habits is going to change a thing. But whatever. I don't want your damn cigarette anymore."
As I turned to leave, still itching for a smoke, a hand gripped my arm, large and firm. I swiveled around, glaring daggers at the offending hand's owner who possessed an equally unhappy expression.
"Listen, young lady, I don't appreciate your lack of respect. You say you are no child, yet you insist on behaving as such."
Beside him, the dark haired woman simply stared at us, observing the interaction, and I felt a sudden urge to punch her in the mouth then move on to this guy who thought he could lay a hand on me. As if. The poor idiot had no idea who he was messing with.
"Is that so?" I said mockingly, tugging on my arm to remove myself from his grip, but he wouldn't let go. "Well, I don't appreciate you patronizing me. Or you touching me. Let go of my arm, or your hand comes off."

--Rianna Sweetzer--

Cigarette, they had called that smoldering tube that man puffed on. While smoking was hardly taboo--those who could afford it smoked pipes--this form of smoking was peculiar to Rianna. She'd investigated a box of cigars for the king, a peace gift from a seafaring ambassador. Not having smoked, investigating the interior of the cigar was quite interesting between fits of coughing. This cigarette certainly appeared to be more convenient than other methods. The desperateness in the other young woman concerned Rianna a little. What plant was wrapped up in this cigarette? Smoke merchants sold different recipes of plants, some of which the infirmary purchased for healing or calming panicked patients. Nicotine? Was nicotine a plant, side effect, or chemical? In any case, it didn't seem to do Victore much good.

Rianna reached into her pocket and pulled out a round container with the words "White Willow Bark Chew" on the top. Inside was a pulpy mix of willow extract and willow bark. It was a bitter tasting treatment, but a very effective pain killer when taken with a smoke or drink.

She put it off to the side a little, waiting for the two to finish their talking. Meanwhile, she caught the eye of a staff person and ordered tea and brandy.

Mikael

"So be it. If none of you wish to stand with me i will fight this battle for all of living kind. Mr Wink would you be so kind as to bolt the cage behind us. Do not open it until you hear only one voice from inside or a call of yield." With that i strode toward the back room and opened a large metal doored panel. Inside was a bare metal room.
"Miss i will give you one final chance to leave this place uninjured and with dignity intact. This place is not under council juristiction and you know it." I stood at the doorway, hands on hips, looking at her questioningly.

- Auralia Bellomore -

I glanced up at him, tilting my head to the side and then bursting into a loud guffaw of laughter. This man believed against all things that he could defeat me in a match? What a fool he was, and I raised my eyes to look into his, seeing that he was not about to back down easily. I sighed and shifted my stance so that my legs were slightly parted. "Mikael, I am not about to go against council rules, if I do it could be worse than death by your hand. If you would simply declare that weres are prohibited from this establishement then we would have no problem. If you do not, then I am forced by council law to force your hand or if not; die trying." I looked at him appologetically at first before my expression hardened.

- Zeal -

"You may attempt to remove my hand, young lady." he had decided to call her that instead of child, even though her petite appearance made his term seem unfit. "Though you as well, have no idea to whom you are dealing with. I have quite the profession and considering your predicament I would not make empty threats."
"Really?" she asked him, her eyes narrowed as she glared at me, undisguised anger boiling to the surface. "What is your so called profession?"
"Slave trader." I had lowered my voice to avoid the damned woman nearby from hearing such a proclamation, how was I supposed to know if she was working for the court. "I capture, train, and deliver slaves to the auction where they're sold for profit. I consider it a well paid job." I smiled, showing yellowed teeth from years on the run.

Caleb now knew what side he had chosen. that girl was a slave trader, and there was only one culture he knew that condoned slavery. americans.
having no gun, Caleb lunged at the girl and attempted a swift cross to her face.
"die you american bastard!"

(I'm assuming your speaking about Aurelia, because no one is near enough to hear Victore {Zeal} to know that he is a slave trader.)

Aurelia Bellomore-

I watched the man's face change as he came to some conclusion that I was not aware of, he lunged towards me and I raised a hand to block. I gripped the man's fist in my own and wrenched it backwards though not enough to break it, just cause severe pain. "You should not attack one who is superior to the likes of you." I spat at him.

"Slave trader," he had replied in an undertone. He flashed a stained smile, and I felt my lip curl. But really, a slave trader? Laughable.
"Where I come from, mister," I began sweetly, straightening my spine to show a bit more of my height. "The likes of you get your heads handed to ya on a silver platter."
Unfortunately, his smile didn't falter at my underhanded threat, so I continued, narrowing my eyes into slits.
"Where I come a from, mister, I could decapitate you myself and get off with a warning and a rap on the wrist." Now, that got his attention.
His smile slipped into a mild scowl. "And from where do you hail, young lady?" he asked, and I could hear the faltering composure in his voice.
I grinned, tucking a strand of cropped hair behind my ear. "Königreich des Bullen," I replied cheekily. "Or to foreigners, Kalina, the country of the War God."
"Hm, is that German you're speaking?" he asked, bringing me up a little short. I'd read enough history books to know that Kalina's official tongue originated from the German language, changing so much over the centuries that only names and certain phrases remained. But that seemed like a pretty long winded answer for this guy, and I didn't deem him worthy of my breath.
"Something like that," I said curtly.
He nodded to himself and took a slow inhale on the cigarette, reminding me of my craving and why I didn't like this guy. "That's interesting. Your country is a war country, you say? Is that why you have such violent tendencies and bad manners?"
I seethed at his words and amused expression, dropping my face into a blank mask while my fingers twitched at my sides, itching for a fight.
"No, you ass," I said coolly. "Kalina being a war country has nothing to do with my behavior."
"Then what is the cause, might I ask?" he questioned. "Daddy issues?"
I barked a laugh. "You have no idea. But alas, wrong again. My bad additude, Mister--" I yanked my arm and with the sudden force his hand released me. In his moment of surprise, I swiftly plucked the lit cigarette from his mouth, popping it between my teeth and hopping back so as to be out of his reach. His bottom jaw dropped in indignation, the woman beside him staring now with huge eyes, and I chuckled maniacally, pleasure bubbling up inside me. I took a drag and puffed out a cloud of smoke in the man's stunned face.
"-- is because I really needed a smoke."

As soon as she'd taken my cigarette I could feel my grey eyes, that were indefinetly swirling with red as the frustration I bore bubbled to the surface, narrow. I could certainly not take my anger out on this child by my standards, it isn't exactly polite to rage on someone without explanation, so I sat there. Uncaringly breathing in the smoke that she exhaled as I watched her. My hands tightened into fists at my sides before I cautiously released the tension in my fingers, "I suggest you learn some manners before you truly have to experience my own way of venting anger, child." I growled through clenched teeth, this was not going to get any better and of course I was right.
She barked a harsh laugh. "Really mister? You think you could do anything to me and get away alive?" she asked and I closed my eyes, taking calming breaths while my hands twitched.
"Be careful," I warned her, licking my lips. "I could certainly serve your innerds on a platter to the wild dogs." I answered.
"Suree." she said sarcastically, and then I rose.
I wasn't surprised to see that I towered over her, and her face flickered slightly with uncertainty but it was gone under a mask of contempt.
"It's strange that you bother to see that you may be from the war country but it seems you've never experienced anything outside of your little world that revolves around battle techniques and daddy issues." I told her, "I come from the chóra tis apelpisías." I told her, the greek rolling off my tongue. "There, we don't even get a rap on the wrist, because it's fight or die."

(gah, Zeal and Izzy don't like each other very much, do they?)
Izzy Deitrich

He towered over me, spouting off in Greek and anger rolling off of him in waves. "There, we don't even get a rap on the wrist, because it's fight or die," he growled, completing his monologue. Somewhere inside my skull, a light flickered on, a warning that no matter my confidence in my ability to annihilate this fruitcake, fighting him would only get me into trouble. I had already made a visit to the police station twice this week, and coming home with bruises and cuts and reeking of smoke and beer would not make my home situation any better. But God, this man infuriated me. Talking down on me like he knew anything, speaking of my country like he understood anything about my life. That little warning light inside my head flickered once then died, brain switching into battle mode.
Careful, my patron god's voice murmured darkly inside my mind. Concentrating for a moment, I reached out to him, the great being, Nosphrotikai, the God of War, resting hundreds of miles away in the capital. I sent him reassuring signals. I told him I could handle myself with this man.
Do not kill him, Izclidelle, he warned, and a tremor ran through me. I nodded once to myself, knowing better than to disobey the only being to which I answered.
Back in the present, I looked up at my opponent and cracked my knuckles. Grinning around my commandeered cigarette, I said, "Listen, orders from the top say I can't kill ya, so just take that as repentance for swiping your cigarette."
His already livid expression contorted into a mask of raw hate. I'd seen such an expression too many times for it to have much of an effect, but from the corner of my eye, I could see the silent dark haired woman inching away nervously.
I chuckled, looked demurely up at the man from under my eyelashes. "Weapons or no?" I asked, whipping my ivory handled switchblade from the thigh pocket of my brown slacks.

"Weapons or no?" she asked me, and I couldn't help but laugh shortly at her words. I reached into my duster, and pulled the silver handle from the pocket and revealed the wickedly sharp and curved dagger. "May as well be with weapons, don't you think?" I asked her with a snide curve of my lip. I could feel my anger tug off on the restraining leash that I've been keeping it on, but I wouldn't let it off easily. I waited a moment before gesturing with my knife, "Go on, make the first move."