Bettie whistled. Then she leaned back, and closed her eyes. "Ah, of course, of course. I must have insulted him by even asking. My apologies, Rowenna.
But by now, you must be tired of people asking only of your father, hmm? Tell me a little about you." Bettie looked back at Rowenna. "I'm a good listener." she said.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
Sorry for taking so long to get a post up! I was busy and momentarily was missing my muse, but I got it back this morning.
The bartender did as requested. He seemed like he was doing a little better now that Ryan and Azalea weren't making the requests, but he still stumbled a little when he handed over the hard cider and the blood. Ryan quickly looked away when they made eye contact, taking a long, awkward sip of his milk in an attempt to distract himself.
"You probably shouldn't do that," Azalea said. She sipped her Sprite through a orange plastic straw covered in little bats. "You're making him nervous."
"I'm making him nervous looking at him," he said - his voice a little lower than hers had been. "I don't want to make him even more uncomfortable."
She drank some more of her Sprite.
"He thinks he disappointed you," she said.
"No he-" Ryan gave a quick but furtive glance back at the bartender, only to let out a sigh seconds later when he turned back to Azalea. "He's doing the face."
"He's doing the face," she agreed with a nod. She let out a sigh and leaned up against the corner. "But neither one of us can doing anything about it."
"...It would put Tobias at risk," he said. He turned his attention to the dance floor - only Kate and Tobias were on it right now, but they looked like they were having fun. Tobias wasn't moving nearly as much as his best friend was, but he still had a smile on his face as she goofed around.
Azalea followed his gaze.
"I feel like a proud mother," she said, what was almost a smirk appearing on her lips, "watching our kids dance."
"Kate has been saying you're the mom friend," Ryan commented. He smiled as well - it did make him happy to see Tobias and Kate enjoying themselves. Especially the former; he was still a little surprised that Tobias had decided to come tonight.
Rowenna smiled. "It doesn't bother me that you ask my fathers age. It would bother him though. As for me, there isn't much. I'm my father's only child, my mother was killed when I was a baby and humans hate us." She wasn't used to having people ask about her. She had no idea how to respond. "What do you want to know?"
"Those moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down"
"I'm erasing myself from the narrative. Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted when you broke her heart
Rowenna nodded. "I like that. I've never had people ask me about myself before. As for being a vampire and what I am and do to survive, I didn't have much choice in it. As for something I would chase....I want to sail."
"Those moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down"
"I'm erasing myself from the narrative. Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted when you broke her heart
Me, adding more characters into this because all of my other characters are sticking to themselves? It's more likely than you think.
Arthur Croft: A young man in his late teens to early twenties. His light brown hair is currently up in a small ponytail, and his eyes are green. His outfit is formal but casual: a buttoned-up white shirt, dark pants and sneakers. He's average height, but is slightly shorter than Puck.
Puck Ward: A young man in his late teens to early twenties. His dark brown hair is somewhat long - the longer strands are just a centimeter or two above the bottom of his neck - and fades to light brown further down. His ears are slightly pointed, but not to the point of looking elfish. His eyes are a bright blue. He's currently wearing a black t-shirt, a dark green hoodie, faded jeans and a worn out pair of combat boots. He also has a pair of headphones on, though it's questionable if they were ever in use or just there for the aesthetic. He's about average height, and there's nothing noteworthy about the rest of his appearance.
"This is a bad idea," Arthur said, staring up at the building.
Puck dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "This is a great idea."
"What if they ask for invitations?" Arthur whispered, dropping his voice as Puck started to open the massive doors. "You're the only one of us that was invited."
Puck raised a finger and put it to his lips. With a wink, he pulled out a blank piece of paper and an invitation. They were nearly identical in size and quality; the only difference was a lack of writing.
"See?" Puck asked. "Problem solved."
Arthur stared.
Then he let out a groan and took the sheet of paper. "Please don't tell me you got this idea from Doctor Who."
With a snap of his fingers that Arthur knew Puck didn't need, an identical copy of the invitation - save for a different name - replaced the paper that Arthur had been holding only seconds before.
"Where else would I get it from, Pres?" Puck asked. He slung his arm around Arthur's shoulder as Arthur slipped the fake invitation into his pocket. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly lower. "No one would ever notice - after all, I am the highest level of demon out there."
Arthur sighed.
"We need to work on your ego," he whispered.
"My ego is perfectly fine," Puck shot back. He suddenly straightened. "Pres, look! I think I see a vampire."
Before Arthur could even get a word in, Puck was leading them over to the group including the vampire.
Rowenna's sharp ears heard more people arriving, and they were coming towards her and Bettie. Great. She ordered more blood, wondering why they were headed for her group.
"Those moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down"
"I'm erasing myself from the narrative. Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted when you broke her heart
"Sailing! Fascinating. Will you join expeditions, or get your own- ooh! You could get a licence-" Bettie's eyes burned with little star shaped lights. She loved licenses.
She had too many to count, but her favourite one at the moment was her Formula 1 racer licence. Her manager said she'd never use it again, and she had a stunt double for a reason, and it was way too much effort for just one video, but that's what he'd said about the heart surgeon licence too, and that one didn't even have a video.
When Bettie woke from her daydream, there were two new guests walking towards them. Cute boys of unclear paranormal status. Ooh, mysterious.
But the real mystery was why they focused on Rowenna over Bettie, the pink skinned, spade tailed, big eyed, world famous pop idol. Well. Rowenna was pretty, too. Though she didn't look too flattered.
Bettie fluttered her caterpillar eyelashes again. "Oh, an audience! I wonder what they are." She took a long draught of crocodile stomach acid. Her eye twinged.
It was the strawberry.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
The bartender was handing over a glass of blood as Puck skid to a stop. Puck's eyes were alight with a childish joy that Arthur didn't regularly see; he was usually a happy person, but this was genuine excitement. Arthur guessed vampires were something that Puck had never really seen - even back there.
Puck turned to the bartender.
"Can I have some root beer?" he asked, leaning up against the makeshift bar. The bartender obliged. It was only a matter of seconds before he was handing over a fancy glass full of root beer to Puck. And, after that, it was only a matter of milliseconds before Puck nearly dropped it.
He shoved the drink into Arthur's hands.
"There," he said, giving a pained smile, "one drink for you, Pres."
"Puck, are you-"
He glance down.
Was it made out of silver? From the way that Puck was shaking his hand, and the way that he was staring at the glass like it had betrayed him, Arthur was fairly convinced that his theory was right.
"I'm fine, Pres," Puck reassured him, giving a dismissive wave of his injured hand. There was no physical injuries involved, but worry still flickered across Arthur's face. There was always a reaction underneath the surface, and the cup must have had a high concentration for Puck of all people to be showing a reaction.
Puck turned to the two.
"Hi," he said, giving them a Puck-esque smile. Arthur had never really been able to describe what Puck's smiles really were like, but they had a generally mischievous yet friendly air to them. "I'm Puck, and this is my boyfriend Arthur - I don't think I've ever been to a party like this before."
Rowenna's eyebrows shot up and her eyes narrowed at Puck. She knew that reaction. That was why she had specifically ordered a glass cup. "Rowenna Dracula." She deliberately left her middle name out. It was really weird for a vampire name. "You have to specifically order glass." She added casually, setting her now empty cup on the bar. Was he a demon of some sort? She knew silver could affect demon's as well as vampires.
"Those moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down"
"I'm erasing myself from the narrative. Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted when you broke her heart
"You're related to Dracula?" he asked. It might have been Puck who was originally excited about meeting a vampire, but Arthur was beginning to get interested, too.
Puck, meanwhile, offered a strained smile and a quiet thanks. He promptly turned to the bartender and ordered a drink of his own - Arthur stared at the sight, especially when the bartender handed over a glass cup filled to the brim with something that looked suspiciously gelatinous.
Arthur wanted to pay attention to the ones they were talking to, but it was too hard not to watch Puck down the drink. "Is that...?"
"Can you believe they have it?" Puck asked, taking another swig. "Part of me doesn't want to know where they got it."
The Anima Homicidii, (often called Annie): She's tall and lanky, made taller by the long, dual-jointed arms protruding from her back which she often uses to move around. While two of the extra arms are often used to help her move about, the third one is typically seen clutching a deep green, pentacle-adorned, spellbook with glided pages which she would often hold far above her head, out of reach.
She wears a loose, green, linen shirt under a deep blue corset, latched closed with golden buckles and green straps to match her shirt. Knee-high boots match her corset in their oceanic color, and gold belts loosely encircle her waist, matching in color to the crisscrossing straps the stretch from her neck and vanish beneath her shirt.
Her skin is pale and pinkish in color, and her shoulder-length hair is dull green. Uneven bangs fall into odd eyes. They look as though they might have once been bright red, but now they seem to have been blurred at the edges. Pupilless lanterns, seeing too much of nothing, are what she's left with.
The Anima Homicidii approached the house, one of her longer arms stretched out before her to scout the way, skimming low to the ground. Her elongated fingers met a sudden wall of stone, and she moved her hand up carefully. The wall gave way, not a foot off the ground, to a short plateau before shooting up once again into an ineffective wall.
She walked up the stairs, counting them as she went for future reference. Seventeen.
Once at the top, it was only a few feet to the door. In her regular hands, the ones attached to her shoulders, she held her invitation. As she'd been walking on her legs, she had a spare arm to open the door. The moment it was open, her eyes skimmed the room. There were many people there, many different creatures, with souls in varying states of decay. She spotted a single fully pure soul among them, a child, she guessed.
As she looked over the company one by one, trying to find the hosts but instead only finding herself incapable of differentiating many of the guests from each other, her eyes landed on a single soul. It was mangled, undoubtedly spilling out of the host, unless the host was a formless being attempting to unsuccessfully reign itself into humanoid proportions.
She tucked the invitation under one of her belts and approached the anomaly, whatever it was, too quickly to be considered carefully. Her guiding hand, still feeling the ground in front of her, bumped into the pure soul. It was somehow both soft and stiff at the same time, like burlap stuffed with straw. She blinked at it, moved on.
There were stools lining a short wall where the abnormal soul was situated, but Annie ignored these. Instead, she went right up to the soul and reached out to touch it, feeling where the soul ended and the vessel began. As she'd suspected, the vessel wasn't the same shape as the soul. What she felt was rather human, though she didn't feel past the shoulders on which her hands - the ones from her own shoulders - rested.
"What are you?" she asked, her voice like the scrape of chalk on a blackboard.
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