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a cross-fandom vampire rp
LOG: Armand, Bianca 
1st-May-2009 12:12 am
Date: After this log
Rating: G - PG for violence?
Summary: B and A go huntin'. B is no longer particularly ladylike and/or civilised about it. They briefly talk about vampires being 'out in the open'.

Armand was delighted to see Bianca in her new finery. It was almost as if she had stepped out of her home in Venice and into the room. Gone was her sweet mortal scent, and the softness of her face however. Her expression seemed as grim as the cold color of her vampiric skin. Armand found her beautiful even so. He wondered if she would want to hunt alone, since blood feeding was not really the most social of events. "Should I meet you somewhere in a while, or do you want company?"

It felt strange to be dressed in such fine clothes again. Even before she had gone underground her clothing had become ragged and tattered. She had ceased caring much how she dressed not long after she had left Marius, in Dresden. She did not entirely care now, though she had to admit it felt good to have rich materials against her skin, again - to look as she had done before her life had been taken away, then utterly destroyed.

"Company." she replied, at once. Already the thought of being alone again had become worrisome. It was alarming to her how quickly her sense of independence crumbled. Then again, perhaps she had never been independent - her loneliness had been borne of necessity, rather than choice. She had hated nearly every minute of it.

"You must show me where we hunt, in this city. Since rising, I've found my meals where I can. Discretion wasn't required in the swamps and smaller towns."

"The evil doers are easy to find. So many people have come here to take advantage of the place after Katrina, and desperate times have not always brought out the best in them. Some banded together and helped their neighbors, and some... well, are a tasty snack if we can get to them before they attack another hapless person on the street for cash to feed their habit." He shrugged, "Anywhere along the other side of Bourbon street or along the CBD is a good bet. Also, the riverfront seems to invite troublemakers these nights. Dumping is easy along the river, as long as we do enough to make sure it doesn't just wash up along the edge down the way."

Bianca smiled sweetly, her eyes dancing. "Excellent." she responded, already imagining the pain she would suffer on her unfortunate victims. She wondered, briefly, if it would upset Amadeo - if, after all, she would be better hunting alone. But surely he would understand? She could already picture their faces contorted in agony as she snapped their limbs like twigs.

"Shall we?" she held out her hand to him, eager to go out into the night.

Armand went with her, enjoying the looks from the people on the street. New Orleans was filled with style, but not all of the people had money for things like Bianca's dress. They made their way toward the sketchier parts of town, and he began to whistle softly, before beginning his little song he'd picked up sometime or other, "Boire un petit coup c'est agreable!..."

It wasn't difficult to tell when they entered the 'bad part of town'. The whole city was, to some extent, falling into disrepair, but the boarded up houses and peeling paint became more and more exaggerated the further they got from the crowds of merry, (more or less) innocent mortals in the central quarter. Soon they were wandering down streets with few, if any, pedestrians - quiet, residential areas that became increasingly shabby as they moved towards the river.

"There is so much death here." Bianca commented, quietly. She could feel it, like something oppressive in the very air itself, pushing down on her from all sides. It was eerie - but at the same time, oddly thrilling. She felt a sense of peace, despite the chaos that had clearly raged her again and again, for hundreds of years.

Soon enough they came upon a likely target. Rounding a corner, a man - likely no more than 17 or 18 years old - was following another two youngsters, who were a good distance in front of him. Clearly, the other two were lost - and more than likely intoxicated, from the way they wove an unsteady path down the street. They had no idea they were being tailed, nor that their stalker was fingering something large and metal and deadly, in his pocket.

Armand nodded at him. "He's all yours, love." This wasn't his usual style, and besides, Bianca was really very hungry. He stood back and before she got too close to the man with the gun, he distracted the drunken boys with an offer to get them some more drink.

Bianca didn't bother about being particularly stealthy. She didn't have to be, given how intent the boy was on his 'victims', ahead. He had slowed somewhat when Armand approached them - confused by his sudden appearance. She chose that moment to steal up behind him, her arms lacing around his waist in a gesture that would almost have appeared affectionate, to an onlooker.

"Hello precious...." she purred, gripping him vice-like to prevent his struggles. "You and I are going to play a game. How does that sound?"

He didn't have the chance to respond. She was too hungry for lengthy play, tonight - and whilst it amused her when they begged, her need for the blood was stronger. She contented herself with snapping his fingers one by one, spinning him around to face her after she had completed one hand, knowing that he was too much in shock and agony, now, to run. His screams soothed her - made her, suddenly, feel completely at ease. Perhaps, after all, everything would be alright.

"Now." she murmured, as he stared open mouthed and paralyzed at her, his fingers hanging limply from his palms like uncooked sausage-meat. "You see, my dear, you screamed. I'm afraid that means you've lost." she sighed deeply, as if she regretted the fact immensely. "That means that I won. Which means I get the prize."

With that, she jerked his shaking body forwards, and in a vicious blur, bit hard into his throat, his screams petering out into a muted gurgle.

Armand was good at keeping the other two distracted, as well as anyone else who might have heard the screams and payed attention. He didn't want a scene. He was leading the boys back along the path he'd come talking to them softly so that they had to pay attention to his voice only, "Yes it really is a very good night for a walk and some good drink. Back this way, you've come too far the wrong direction, see that street? It's called Esplanade, you stay on this side of it, and you'll be a little better off tonight, okay? Yeah good."

The blood flowed through Bianca like a cleansing fire. She breathed, and for the first time in many nights, felt as though she could catch breath. She let the corpse tumbled from her hands, licking her lips as a small, satisfied smirk spread across them.

The body was still, and clearly quite devoid of anything that might once have animated it.

She tilted her head to one side. It was tempting - so very, very tempting - to dismember it as she had done to so many, on her journey here. To rip it to shreds so that all that remained were organs and dust and the bloody smears on the pavement. And yet...somehow the need to do so was gone. She frowned, contenting herself with crunching her boot down onto what had once been the boy's face, sighing happily as his skull caved, his features reduced to a messy pulp.

Armand returned to Bianca's side once he got the other two in the right direction and leaned his arm around her, "Well that's a mercy to his mother at least. Let's get this somewhere it won't be found." He felt almost clumsy about this. He couldn't decide whether they might just load up the corpse with stones and drop it in the middle of the sink, or if he'd need to do something more. He rarely killed these days, especially in New Orleans when there were so fewer people anyway, but when he did, it was usually those already at death's door, begging to be let in. A body found, there was never any question. They'd simply given out, at last. "What do you think? River? Fire?" it was her leftovers after all.

"Does it matter?" she asked, carelessly, resting her head on his shoulder. "Let the mortals find it when they clean the streets, come sunrise. It can't be traced."

"It's bad publicity, it will cause fear, and not the right kind. We have to be especially careful in this time, thanks to those who've come out."

She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by this answer.

"I don't care, then." she replied, at length. "Whatever you think is best - though if we must handle it, I'd prefer we not have to carry it far. I'd hate to stain this lovely new dress."

Armand frowned and took a flask out of his pocket, pouring the stiff liquor over him and igniting it with his fire gift until there really wasn't anything left but a pool of grease and cracked black bone. "Right then. No blood." He tossed it in a wave of his telekinetic power into the river and brushed off his hands as if he had touched any of it. "Next time we'll take the little drink."

She smiled at him, tilting her head up to brush her lips against his. "Thank you." she whispered, sensing that he was displeased with her unwillingness to dispose of the corpse herself. "You're too good to me."

He smirked a little, "Probably, but it's hard to resist you, especially now, you're all warm and pink, and just the way I remember you. Come on, sis. Let's go back to the Quarter and have a nice walk. It really is good weather, and I'm wanting to find a friend of mine,"

"A friend?" she raised an eyebrow at him, but followed nonetheless, wandering with him back towards the throngs of drunks and tourists and merry-makers. "What friend?"

"His name is Adrien. He's a psychic medium... his dead mother follows him around, it's really kind of odd. But he's interesting, and he knows about us, and he's discrete even though no one else is."

"I see." she frowned, uncertainly. "Perhaps it would be best I didn't join you." The blood had satisfied her, but also reminded her of just how good it felt to feed. Being in close quarters with another human so soon might prove too much for her. "...besides, I assume Marius will be waiting for me."

"Yes, he probably will. I'll see you later then." He put his arms around her and kissed her, "It will be okay. You'll see." He twirled a tendril of her hair around his finger and then let it go again. "Don't be too long, or I might get myself into trouble."

"I've no doubt you will." she replied, dryly. "You always did. Still, I'm certain Marius will be able to get you out of it, again."

There it was again. The bitterness. She wished she could shake it, but it kept creeping up on her unexpectedly, like a beast stalking its prey.

She took a deep breath, and managed to smile a goodbye. Then, in a split second, she was gone into the night.

He told himself she would get over it. It just takes time... but maybe she wouldn't. Marius had hurt her badly. He would have to do something more than give her a bath and some clothing if he was ever going to make up for it.
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