. along . came . a . spider .

[Luka Neverov]

The night had been an eventful one. The women had been twins, and lovely as dusk; flaming red hair and porcelain skin. They'd all taken a tumble in his private chambers before he'd taken their life essence. And how sweet it was.
Having just had his release and now that the human blood was moving rapidly through his veins and feeding the hunger that usually clawed at his insides like an unbridled beast within, Luka was as calm as he would ever be. The uncontrollable tempest that usually rolled violently in his head had stilled to a meager thunderstorm; the hunger merely tugging lightly at his gut instead of ripping at his belly with razor sharp talons.

Luka, usually a monster, was something like a man.

Obsidian eyes roamed the club like a predator tracking his prey, but as his thirst was staved for the moment, prey meant entirely something different to the vampire.
The smell of sweet liquor, sweat and desire was thick in the air; almost as much as an intoxicant as the blood that had settled nice and warm in his belly. The Russian came out from behind the bar and leaned backwards on it; sipping slowly at his chalice and swishing the blood around over his tongue like sampling a fine wine. Pity after leaving the vein it grew so cold so fast. A slight wince came to his boyish face, and disappointed he set the goblet down and then pounded a fist twice on the mahogany counter in order to get the distracted tender’s attention. Recoiling as if his inattentiveness had been the worst of crimes, the bartender nodded and retrieved a bottle of top shelf Russian Vodka and poured it out into a tumbler with just a drop of crimson from the fount.
With a bowed head as if the vampire was royalty (which wasn’t far from the truth in the human’s eyes) he placed the cocktail in front of the Russian and tentative slipped away to attend to the next customer.

Luka wrapped a cold white hand around the glass and took a long pull; letting out a sigh of satisfaction as the icy liquid and blood went down his throat like a winter kiss. It settled in his belly cool and invigorating, and started a nice buzz in his frenzied head.

Once again his gaze roamed the crowd, and he inhaled deeply; allowing the mingling scents to invade his nostrils, picking out the one he was looking for like a wild beast would tracking it’s target. A whisper of a smile curved his lip when he found the unique aroma of the one that he was looking for. Stale smoke and the faintest hint of dried blood from the scabbing track marks on the inside of his arm; the drug addict was easy to find. The human was rotting from the inside out; self inflicted disease from all the drugs he had taken into his body.

And Luka meant to push him just a little further into the grave. He shoved a pale hand into the pocket of his jeans and fingered the scarlet colored rocks fairly burning a hole in his pocket.
Oh yes. Luka was a drug dealer. He was a pain dealer. He was a death dealer.
The little iridescent stones in his pocket were one of the most addictive drugs money could buy; heroin mixed with just a drop of his very own potent blood; he had christened the intoxicant with the name CRIMSON.
The heroin in and of itself was effective; but after the high wore off, the user would wake up with a thirst like they had never known. He would feel as if that thirst could never be quenched; it would drive the user to brink of insanity unless...unless they found the cure for said thirst if they happened to suck on a paper cut or order their steak very rare.
Of course, the mere drop of vampire blood wasn’t enough to bequest the junkie with the dark gift; but it was enough to drive him insane.
Ah yes. He was also a lunacy dealer. It brought a chuckle from the Russians lips.

Luka placed his drink on the counter and moved towards the junkie, but was halted by a strong hand on his shoulder. Hissing, the vampire turned to gaze on the fiend, but relaxed immediately as he gazed into the stoic face of the massive bald-headed vampire.

Niki was a ‘bouncer’ for the club, but much, much more. Since Luka was a busy man with far too much impatience for such things, in his stead Niki made sure everything ran smoothly. This included all side dealings that took place within the club.
Of course, the Russian hadn’t foreseen that he the large vampire would hit it off so well. Niki was from a small suburb near Luka’s hometown; had left the country to escape the tyrannical rule of the Elders in Moscow a few years before Luka. Though Luka wouldn’t call the man a comrade, he had no desire to paint his blood all over the walls. He was a close to being a friend as Luka had ever had.

“Your shirt comrade.” Nikolai said bluntly in a thick Russian brogue. His voice was a growl and his expression empty, but amusement danced in his blue eyes. He plucked a black cotton button down from a hat rack behind him and tossed it at Luka, and the Russian chuckled dryly. Oh yes. Appearances were everything in this club, and since he was conducting business, his appearance reflected on the bar’s reputation.

Luka pulled the black shirt on over the bloody white tee; rolling up the sleeves so that his forearms were still exposed. He turned back toward the big bouncer and extended his arms as if wordlessly asking if his emergence was acceptable and then clicked his tongue when Nikolai gave him a big toothy grin.

Enough time wasted, Luka pushed a hand into his pocket and fisted the Crimson; his expression dark as he turned to once again face the dance floor. A tut of annoyance escaped the vampire when he realized the junkie had moved from his position, and the scent was indiscernible amidst the other human aromas. A low growl crawled up from his throat as he picked up his vodka and took a heavy swallow, and his onyx eyes caught a gem-vibrant gaze watching him with apparent curiosity a moment before she turned her face away. Oh, wonderful distraction. For the moment the junkie was lost from the Russian’s thoughts.

The ghost of a smile crawled over his devious face as the vampire approached the female; his eyes drifting over her too poised form before leaning casually on the bar next to her. She was too perfect; too refined. A concrete angel.
Luka imagined all that refinement gone and the female covered in the ruby stain. It made a much better picture.

[Juliette Delphine]

She's got an appetit that won't stop
The way that she's dancing should be against the law
She likes to show off
Her body act like the life for a party
And make it hard for you to keep her
And it's just a matter of time
For it starts to play with your mind
She's supersonic and her eyes are so hypnotic
I used to think that she was innocent, girl

[/i]



“Look at them, Trina. They are so…ignorant. I don’t know how you actually like living in this world.” Staring down at the world from the high rise of her hotel balcony, the pale skinned woman held herself regally, her hands resting softly on the cool metal in front of her. It would be so easy to lean forward and slide over the rail; fly, just for a little while, and dream of a sweet release.
Not that she’d ever be allowed such a thing. Always and never, it was a curse.

“Oh stop your whining.” Her friend snapped. Trina Polintopeus, your typical mortal woman, was packing two very large AK-47s into her industrial strength duffel bag. Running a hand through her shortly cropped hair, the assassin straightened from her work to glare at her over a pair of dark, movie star-styled sunglasses. “I’ll have you know,” She continued, waving her Bowie in her direction. “That the world is a cool place to live. It’s never boring, it’s got lots of people…and the guns, and the MEN! Oh my GAWD, Juls. You’ve gotta get out more, and I don’t mean just down to the Underground. You have to get out! Party like a rockstar and all that shit!” With a deep laugh- the woman’s trademark- her concentration returned to packing.

Julliette sighed. But then again, what did she expect of her friend? She had grown up in this world and had known no other. It was a…shame? Was it really?
No. She was just going insane.

A snort of amusement escaped her as she pushed herself away from the balcony. Dark hair rolled in waves across her shoulders as she moved, her alabaster skin shining almost ethereally in the late evening moonlight. She did so love watching the people milling about in the world, but it was high time that she participated in it. The hotel- her hotel, the Palace; one of New Orlean’s most popular establishments and one of her latest gifts to herself- was beautiful in its design, but stifling at the same time. She needed to get outside; feel the wind on her face- from ground level, at least- hear the sounds of innocents playing, and close her azure eyes against the salty slap of the ocean…
Mmm, yes. She needed to go outside. Now.

“Where ya going?” Trina asked her as she moved into the President’s Sweet. Walking quickly around the king size bed and large beside table, she padded into the bathroom, selecting a ruby dress as she passed. Around her neck went the usual gold ankh- a keepsake; forever chained- and on her upper arm, she applied her favorite adornment; a thick silver band, riddled with ancient symbols.

“I’m going out,” She replied, bending over the sink to apply some mascara to her already dark eyes. “Isn’t that what you’ve been nagging me to do? You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.”

Trina grimaced and shook her head. “Yeah, but no. I’m gonna find my own digs. Where abouts are you goin?”

“Out.” Juliette replied with a very unladylike shrug. How her father would have balked, once upon a time. A small smile coming on and off of her lips as her friend rolled her eyes, the woman wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and moved toward the front door. “Take your time, and keep in touch.” She said. It was her usual farewell to the younger girl, and she couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped her. Quickly, as if before she could change her mind, she shut the door without waiting for an answer.

Ten steps to the right led her to the elevator, which brought her into the busy lobby of the hotel. Tourists, businessmen, and other well-to-do’s bustled around the tiled floor, followed closely by attendants and bellhops. Trading knowing smiles with the doorman- and managing to escape the floor managers’ notice- she slipped out into the night.

There were many things that were not known about Juliette Delphine, the mysterious new owner of The Palace Hotel and unofficial Queen of the Underground, other than the fact that she loved the night almost as much as a good business deal. Like the good little pets they were, her bodyguards drifted into place behind her, watching the shadows while she greeted the night.

She had missed being out at night, away from the constant squabbling and whining from the local gangs. These children and their love of money; it was almost comforting that some things never changed.

But where to go, where to go. Talking with Trina made her miss these nightly outings into the world, but it had been so long since she’d given into the urge to explore. She’d come to the country about ten years prior, spending most of her time building up her empire, but had she ever really walked through her kingdom? The farthest she’d gone had been to the docks, though most of her excursions were just out of the limo and into the abandoned building that would house The Underground for the night. She’d never actually experienced New Orleans, had she? It was all just business.

Which was exactly how she wanted things to say, but it really had been too long since she’d stretched her legs and met the locals. Perhaps there was a sexy Cajun just waiting to be met and turned into Husband Number Six.

Wandering aimlessly, her bodyguards ghosting beside her, Juliette made her way through the busy Quarter and beyond. She was planning on heading to some quaint little bar, where there were cowboys to bite and bartenders to intimidate, but she didn’t make it that far. Of course, even when trying her best to be spontaneous, business would take over yet again.

‘The Church;’ what a ironic name, for such a devilish place. Once upon a time, she would have balked at the dark little metaphore and demanded that the place be burned down. How sacrilegious, to serve the darkness under the guise of something holy! Now on the other hand, she just read the words with an amused tilt of her lips.

A girl had to appreciate a sense of humor in her competitors. Was the man himself as amusing as his club? It was past time to find out.

Sauntering through the front doors, her pets at her sides, she took in the scene with narrowed eyes. Dancers, booze, smoke…and was that an underlay of blood? Juliette frowned, shaking her head sadly. There was just no finesse, these days. Murder and mayhem was to be kept in the back rooms, as a warning; one of those dark clouds hanging over one’s head, not so blatantly obvious! And were those addicts mingling in with the dancers? Oh, this poor dealer; she would just have to give him a few pointers on how to handle his business.

…After she made sure that he wasn’t stepping on her dainty toes, that is. This was her syndicate, her underworld, HER business. Ooh, just feel that tingle of anger crawl up her spine; actual emotion. How fascinating.

With the humans making a path for her, and the bouncers eyeing her from all directions, the vampire made her way to the bar, choosing a semi-secluded stool with her back to the wall. Leaning her cheek on one clenched fist, she watched the crowd, eyes flickering over unfamiliar faces as if looking for one in particular.

This was going to be an interesting night; she could tell. Hopefully it wouldn’t end in bloodshed, though.
She’d JUST dry cleaned her dress…

And there it was; that oh so familiar swagger, that predatory smile. She could see the owner of 'The Church' coming a mile away...as well as smell that lovely odor of fresh blood on his skin. Tsk, tsk; to mix business with pleasure. Was he one of those old schoolers who didn't like to bathe after playing with his food? Pity; he looked so sinfully handsome, that she was tempted to forget her vow to be frigid, if only for a night.

That is, until she looked into those soulless eyes and saw something damningly familiar. Another vampire running drugs in her territory. Oh, if those retched fangs didn't threaten to surge out of her gums right then.

The temperature around her seemed to cool, as she turned her attention back to the deadly man. Was he waiting for her to speak? To address him? It would seem to forward...like cheating at a game of chess.

She did love her games, after all.

"What a fine night for a party," She said smoothly, turning slightly to cast a regal smile in the man's direction. "If you like the dark and deadly, that is."

[/center]

[Sareh Astar]

A devil in a midnight mass
He prayed behind stained glass
A memory of sunday class
Ressurrected from the past

With a predatory grin, Sareh strode confidently into the club, eying the ancient decor with an appreciative glance. The Church was an apt name for this little business establishment, seeing as it was, well, hosted in the remodeled remains of what used to be a steeple of faith. But the piety and innocence that had once claimed this place was long gone; now it hosted a series of macabre wonders, catering to desires at the other end of the spectrum.

She knew, in respect to several somewhat confused gazes, that she appeared out of place in the grim nightclub. It was like she...how did humans today say it? Oh yes, that she "stuck out like a sore thumb". While the actually applicability of that saying eluded her, she understood the general meaning, and felt comfortable applying it to her current situation. In fact, she understood why others might think that, though in truth they were far from being correct in their assumptions.

Countless centuries ago, Sareh had been blooded, changed. And while her human memories were gone, she knew instinctively the age upon which she had passed out of her old world, and into the one she had lived now for oh so long. In her human life she would have been considered an adult already, maybe even married with several children. Back then, to be twenty was to be well into womanhood already, unlike society nowadays. And even though she had been frozen forever in appearance at that ripe age, she knew she looked younger still; many still considered her appearing young enough to still be in that pesky human education system.

But it was a mistake to judge her to be that young, that was sure. Sareh was as wise as her many years, and to underestimate her was an error that most did not escape from.

Keeping her gaze aloft, Sareh made her way over to the bar, licking her lips hungrily. Her age often made it unnecessary to feed frequently, allowing her to go months at a time without a drop of blood, but she'd never tested that boundary. In her eyes, why should she deprive herself of such a delicious, life-giving substance? It was foolish to starve herself, especially when there were so many people to feed on, and so many pleasures to explore within the human body.

It was so easy to be distracted, with so many helpless souls around her. Their bodies radiated heat and life, and their pulses were like hypnotic beat that made the music of the club come alive. To steal one of them away would be all too simple, and then she could have her way with them, reveling in a night filled with hunger, blood, and torture. After all, the only things sweeter than the ecstasy of blood were the frantic screams of pain, mixed with the gurgling of blood and the moaning of pleasure.

Averting her gaze her glaze from the crowd, Sareh switched her focus back to the matter at hand. "Business now, play later," she told herself, smirking at the ideas that coursed through her mind.

Though she had come here for pleasure, she'd originally sought it out for a much more sinister purpose, and that led her to what she was currently doing right now. The nature of this club made it a very good candidate for what she was planning, though that might change. She needed to settle things out, and see if the patrons here could be fooled as well as she hoped.

Sareh settled herself down at the bar, and relaxed, her eyes scrutinizing everything within sight. Right now, she'd merely sit and wait, and keep an eye on things.

That's when one man in particular caught her eye. He was tall and sinewy, with a graceful air of grim refinement. As she watched him, she couldn't help but lick her lips, her mouth watering at the prospect of tasting that sweet flesh, and tearing her fangs through it. From his scent she knew he was a vampire, but that didn't affect the hunger and desire she felt for him.

When the man leaned on the counter, Sareh smirked to herself, shaking her head. He had joined another woman, another vampire. And then, her mind finally reorganized her priorities, and she recognized them both.

The man was Luka Neverov, the owner of this establishment. And the woman as Juliette Delphine, owner of another vampire-prominent bar, The Underground. It seemed as though Fate had smiled upon her, bringing two vampires she very much wanted to meet directly onto her plate. Both were necessary for her plans, and could be great assets to her.

Sliding off her barstool, the ancient vampire approached her two targets. "Mr. Neverov, Ms. Delphine," her cool tone probed. "It is a pleasure to meet you both."

And so it began.

[Eryle Darlusk]

(Still open right? <.<))

"Alright, so what you're telling me here is that you're....an idiot, trying to get yourself killed, and have grown tired of your life blood?", the spirit imp, or smoke mephit as it preferred, said to him as it hovered alongside him, speaking in a high piteched, grating yet somehow still sinister voice.

It was in 'ghost' form right now, invisible to those without the right perception, but even though Eryle could see it, he refused to make eye contact with the being that seemed intent on being his 'familiar' and more specifically his 'connection to common sense'.

"Why did you give me the information if you didn't want me to do anything with it?", the warlock queried with a smirk, the club coming within view ahead, and so his voice lowered to a near whisper with the thing

"The idea is you get the info, and follow up later with each one alone, not waltz into the midst of a gaggle of bloodsuckers. You do realize you're half mortal right? And that you being a hybrid makes you more appetizing to most of them? Like, exotic, you know, dark energy a sweet spice to the warmth and slightly metallic taste of your....damn even I'm considering drinking from you, and I hate blood." , it babbles, laughing in a cackling manner at the end, but obviously not seriously considering it.

"You won't touch my blood. And if they try, so be it. Hopefully they'll be kind and ask nicely first", he replies with a darkened chuckle, "Besides, this is how I have my fun. Dealing with those that pose no threat, no danger at all. It wanes quickly. Now hush, I can't be talking to imaginary friends in public", he says

"Your funeral", it says, remaining incorporeal but mostly quiet now as Eryle walked up to the bouncer at the front, who eyed him.

Of course, he wasn't on the list. Not that there was a list. That was just the excuse they used when they didn't like your face. But that was simple enough, demand they 'look again' as he'd reach into their mind with a whisp of control, innate demonic talent shifting their view, and suddenly it was alright to enter. Or maybe it didn't work but they were supernatural themselves and could sense it, having orders to let such people in. He didn't know. Of course the half-demon assumed the former, though.

He couldn't help but have a slight expression of....was it disgust? or maybe pity...on his face as he walked inside, eyes scanning over those there, innately sensing the pain, the depravity, the addiction to substances both metaphysical and those quite real. He never considered himself evil, but a simple breath taken in empowered him. It was still his nature for such resonance to strengthen him.

Still, that wasn't what he was here for. He couldn't tell without giving himself away with a lightshow in his eyes or physical contact of some sort, but he knew there were those of -interest- here. Meant his best option was to enhance his own aura so they'd detect it with smell or however they truly detected such things.

"Oh god. I can sense that. Want me to grab a neon sign? Flash 'free food' above your head? Seriously, you'd be more subtle if you bathed in blood and then wandered in with a blindfold asking if anyone thought you tasted funny", he heard the mostly invisible and inaudible imp prattling about without response on his part as he began to walk further into the club, to grab a drink and....see what happened.

[Luka Neverov]

The Russian let his onyx gaze travel over the smooth pale form of the female. He took a long drink from his crimson spiced vodka and swiveled in the stool so that he was much too close to her; invading the invisible wall manners always suggested you keep between yourself and a stranger. The vampire had no sense of etiquette anyway and preferred to cause that sense of discomfort.
The cold breath on the back of your neck. The spider you wake up to find stalking up the covers toward your exposed face.

Not that this one would be discomfited. She had an air about her that suggested she wasn’t easily shaken. He leaned in and inhaled deeply, finding no lingering stench of death on her. A vampire goddess such as herself should be painted in the vibrant scarlet; Bathed in it like the Countess Elizabeth Báthory. The mere thought of it caused his mouth to parch and his skin to grow tight; the hunger rearing its monstrous head as if it hadn’t just been sated.
“And I do enjoy dark and deadly.” Came his response as he fingered the tumbler with a long pale finger. Vampire or not, he stared at her with an unsettling expression as if she would be his next meal. “Your elegance does not fit in vith this crowd.” Luka told her in rumble of a voice; his Slavic accent thick and dark like a stout beer. “Are you lost, leetel vone?” He asked her, and there was mocking tone to his question; as if he were addressing a child. “Did you vander into Church thinking it vod be a place vere you could confess your sin?”

A challenging grin spread across the Russian’s boyish face, as if he was taunting her dark nature. Luka knew no matter how deep down the monster was buried, she craved human blood same as he did, perhaps more so.

Suddenly his name fell from the lips of another, and the vampire turned with a slightly bemused expression towards the female that had addressed him as if an old friend or business partner. He tilted his dark head, regarding her thoughtfully. The Russian had never been good at remembering faces. His mind was far too chaotic for such trivialities.

“Pleasure vod be mine if I knew who it vas I vas meeting…” Luka answered the russet haired female with amusement. His tongue snaked across his bottom lip and he pushed at an unruly strand of black hair that had fallen in his face. His eyes drifted back to the sophisticated concrete seraph and he flashed a pearly fanged grin. “Delphine, vas it? I’m sure I have heard of you…”

Twisting in his seat so he was between the two women, Luka gestured with a pale hand for the newcomer to sit. “Please, join us.” His obsidian gaze darted up towards the opening of the club as another entity drifted through the heavy doors. He could sense something unusual about the male, but instead of bothering him it drew a playful smile across his face. “I think we are in for treat tonight. Fresh meat.”

[Juliette Delphine]

Well, wasn't this one the touchy-feely type? Taking a sip of her drink, Juliette let her eyes trail over his body, raising a brow as he moved closer. Along with a lack of the old world rules, he wasn't a fan of personal space, was he?

Oh yes, this was going to be a fun game. Now, if only he wasn't the competition...oh the fun she could have had with this one! She could just smell the power on him, underneath the heady scent of blood. There was even a healthy dose of insane in his eyes, but that was normal for one of their kind.

No one lived for centuries and remained perfect, now did they? Especially not in their line of business.

But really, she did want to have some fun tonight. She was so tired of the tedium of her current life; the killing, threatening, and making a profit. Despite the crude mannerisms, why couldn't this one offer her sweet amusement? With that thought in mind, she leaned forward on the counter, knowing that the movement would give him a nice little show along her low neckline.

Men were so easy to controlled when they got a bit of eye candy; wasn't that what Trina liked to tell her? Ah, the fond memories of Husband Number Three...

Her lips twitched in amusement as he spoke. What a lovely voice he had...like smoke and sin. She had to resist the urge to laugh outright at his last question, thinking that between them, they probably had more sins than the Devil himself. Tilting her head slightly, she regarded him with the smallest of smiles.
"And are you offering me salvation for my sins, good sir?" She returned, her voice a tangled mass of French and Cajun. She put on an expression of mock temptation, surprised at how that challenging smirk had her own spirit rising. She forgot for a moment that she prided herself on feeling nothing, savoring that small twitch of competitiveness...

But then that annoying little voice interrupted their conversation, and she was back behind those carefully constructed walls. Oh joy, another vampire. How droll.

She leaned back in her seat as the other woman joined them, sliding a gold cigarette case out from her clutch. Without looking up, the acknowledged the speaker with a flutter of her fingers. "Miss Astar, owner of Astar Incorperated," She replied cooly, slipping the little box back into her bag. "What a...pleasant surprise. Have you come here to enjoy the scenery as well?"

As Luka spoke again, her eyes flickered up to his face, the corner of her lips twitching. He'd 'heard' of her? Well, there went that competitive flicker again. How...pleasant.
"And I've heard of you as well, Mr. Neverov. I believe we run in the same circles from time to time."

A shiver of power crawled up her spine and she followed the feeling, eyes landing on a suited man near the door. How charmingly refined he looked, muttering to himself like that. Perhaps The Church wasn't so very uncouth after all? She really had to get out into the night more often.

[Sareh Astar]

A devil in a midnight mass
He prayed behind stained glass
A memory of sunday class
Ressurrected from the past

Sareh couldn't help but feel a pleasant shiver as the brooding vampire's gaze switched over to her, regarding her thoughtfully. Oh how she would have loved to keep that expression, that morbid curiousity. After all, it was not a look she recieved often. If this vampire was not who he was, necessary, she would have probably sliced his head off and taken it with her. She did have the perfect spot for it just waiting on her mantlepiece.

But alas, framing that head would have to wait, at the very least. Luka had a notorius reputation, from what her sources told her, and she needed his chaotic insanity, as well as his cunning.

Just as she was about to introduce herself, the other vampire, Juliette, cut in. As soon as her name was mentioned, a chilling smile forced its way other her features; Sareh couldn't help but enjoy it when obviously her reputation preceded her.

At Juliette's question about the scenery, Sareh couldn't help but give another longing glance at all the others in the club, licking her lips longingly. "Oh yes, among other things," she replied enigmatically.

The scenery was definitely entertaining, and most likely delicious to top it off. But again, she reminded herself, that would have to wait. Dinner was so plentiful nowadays, that it almost always presented itself to her; she hardly had to do any work to even catch it. This opportunity however, was not as plentiful.

"As Ms. Delphine said, I own Astar Incorporated." Sareh slid into the seat next to Luka, at his request. "But you both may call me Sareh, please. Formalities shouldn't be held as a pretense unless dealing with the cattle, after all." Humans didn't deserve that personal interaction; they were fools, and were to be treated as such.

Suddenly Sareh sensed that same power that the others did, and turned her gaze in curiousity to meet it. The man had an air of refinement to himself, at least much more than the rest of food did. And his scent...well, that was certainly interesting to say the least. It was easily apparent among the others, an aroma laced with something special. He was definitely human, but he was also something else, something that was, most likely, just as delicious, and probably more.

Oh hell, that pesky insatiable appetite was getting the better of her again! "Shall we entertain dinner, or simply let it wander around aimlessly?" she posed, turning to glance at the other two. Tonight was certainy shaping out to be...fun.

[Eryle Darlusk]

One would have to be a complete fool to ignore it. The three pairs of eyes all wandered over to him shortly after he arrived, whereas most everyone else in there was too preoccupied or intoxicated (or similar) to notice him, it was almost immediate on their part. However, Eryle seems a little disconcerted, whispering very quietly to the invisible familiar.

"You told me you saw -two- of them...", he mutters. Two vampires vs three can make a huge difference in how easy they are to deal with.

"I said a couple. Vague term. And so a new one arrived. Suck it up, mr all powerful half-human warlock of the shadows. So you gotta contend with another leech, isn't that like a human complaining about another ant?", the demon teases, insulting Eryle's ego like that, and knowing he could get away with it since even in here someone would notice if a mephit physically manifested and was then assaulted with shadow.

Eryle frowned a little, and was now obviously a little nervous. Damn it. They could smell fear. Even with his own aura cloaking it, he knew they always could smell it. It was the emotion they relied on most of all. That or lust, depending on the type of leech you were dealing with. Still, he had a feeling that right now, he was dealing with those that'd prefer fear.

Despite this, he came here to have fun,a nd so he needed to plant the seeds for that. He downed a couple of drinks, and then moved across the floor, near the vampires but not enough to seem to be approaching them. No fun if he walked right up to them, right? Instead, he walked over to a couple of mortals, just making small talk for now. However, he was also allowing his innate ability to make them more suggestible. Depending on how things panned out here, he had a few ways he could use this to his advantage.

Leaving them in their altered state for the moment, Eryle then moved back towards the more open areas, grabbing another drink and just...looking about. His eyes passed over the vampires once more, keeping it to subtle glances like anyone else might give them; they did stand out somewhat. Just watching how they were reacting to things, trying to get a read on their intentions; alright, fat chance on being able to use his abilities to read the trained emotion of a vampire in a place like this. Still, mundane body language and expressions still told a tale.

He wondered how well-tuned the vampires' supernatural senses were. Obviously they knew he wasn't human, not fully, but had they sensed what he'd done to the mortals, or that he'd used any sort of power to begin with? Could they sense the imp? Probably didn't sense the imp at least, only the more magical sorts of vampires would deal with the invisible. They were usually earthly creatures.

Whatever the case, he figured, this would turn out to either be very rewarding, or a death sentence. Or perhaps both....he'd have to wait and see.

[Luka Neverov]

Ah yes, he would offer salvation for her sins. After all, this was a church and he the Reverend. And there had been so many before her that had done the same; confessed like children when confronted with the erotic kiss from a dark angel with obsidian eyes and wild, black hair. They had met none so like him; God above, than the vampire was, with his rich, intoxicating stare and the hypnotic voice and quixotic grin.
Luka thought himself, in fact, a God. And through the blooded bond he had seen those offenses as if he had lived them and they… tasted so good.

And then came the obviously blasé introduction of the other female; Ms. Astar, and between the two of them Luka thought he was no longer at the blood bar but a large mahogany business table. Entrepreneurs, or at least that’s what the humans called them; these two deadly widows with their secretive businesses affairs. The Russian had never been impressed or concerned for the production or political aspect of the club; it was merely a means to an end. The end being the easy obtainment of the fluid that sustained him, and the sometimes fulfillment of his other needs.

Luka nodded at the appropriate time as the women chattered about the circles they moved within and formalities and the like. Truth was he was distracted, and the circle to him was a sea of sharks.
His onyx eyes slid to the male as he wound his way through the open, but crowded club, and a little chortle of petulance hissed through his fangs when Sareh asked about whether to divert him, or let him wander. “I do not entertain dinner.” He snorted and returned his amusement glittering gaze back to the females. “It entertains me…”

He gave his back to the wandering stranger and waved at an awaiting tender, who nodded with intent and reached for a bottle of top shelf Russian vodka. Instead of pouring it into a single glass, however, the knowing familiar grasped three heavy crystal tumblers and tilted open the spring in the wall so that vibrant ruby droplets colored the bottom.
The clear potent liquor topped off the shot glasses of blood, and the bartender pushed them towards Luka and his comrades before bowing and moving along to attend to another patron.

“Please, ladies. Imbibe vith me. The year is a young, crisp 1987.” He told them and swirled his glass to mingle the fluids. “Vodka is even older than that.” He finished before taking a heavy pull from it.

With a satisfied sigh he snaked his tongue across his bottom lip, effectively cleaning the remnants of blood from it.
“Tell me. Have you come to Church tonight to drink and confess sin, or vere you seeking more taboo requirements?” A slow, mischievous grin revealed the peek of fangs over upturned lips.

[Juliette Delphine]

Ah, to bask in the wonders of spontaneity, only to be disrupted by business. Well…there was definitely one thing to be said; she no longer had to worry about those pesky feelings. There really were few things that were absolutely necessary in life, and winning was definitely high on the list.

To win, one must be completely focused on the task at hand, and before Astar’s interruption, the only thing she’d been focusing on was how delightfully tight Neverov’s pants were.

Distractions were for the soon to be dead, or so her previous husband had declared. The poor fool should know; it had been during the act of making love with a lithe young thing, that he’d found his head separated from his body.
Poor Ricardo. He’d been so young and so deliciously ruthless…

With a deep breath, Juliette allowed her attention to drift away from the dancers around them, when that annoyingly cherubic vampire spoke again. What about dinner walking around? Glancing back at the humans milling about, she resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose in disdain. Truthfully, she had lost the taste for human blood a decade ago, now sustaining herself on donations mixed with wine. It diluted the taste and kept her going, but the thought of ‘eating…’ well, it definitely didn’t fit in with her current diet.

All of the fun had drained out of hunting the ‘cattle,’- how droll- years ago, or so she’d come to believe. The seducing, the begging, the soft warm spray and the body to get rid of; it became one big, vexing blur. There was just no pizzazz to the act anymore, not even when sex was involved…especially now that Dracula was a societal icon.

If she saw ONE more ‘Goth girl’ wanting to get ‘turned,’ she was going to start praying for Armageddon.

Accepting the shot glass with a stiff little smile, Juliette swirled her glass until the liquid turned a delectable pink, then took a dainty sip. Ah, but it was definitely smooth going down; like butter and cream. Finishing the rest in one swallow, she set the little glass down onto the counter and leaned on her elbow again. That strangely ethereal man was still milling about with the humans, and she raised a brow curiously.

“A very nice year,” She said, motioning for the bartender to refill her glass, with vodka only this time. “As for your question, Mr. Neverov…it all depends on what you mean by ‘taboo.’ Perhaps you could give us a little tour of your facility?”