Shoutbox

[Miss Murder]

A silhouette of a tall man stood in the alleyway of the ‘bad part’ of town. This night was perfect, especially for his victims. A nice cool night, most people would walk home on a night like this. How lovely. A small grin appeared across the man’s lips, showing one of his sharp fangs.

This is what I brought you, this you can keep. This is what I brought, you may forget me.

He stepped out of the shadows of the alley. His body no longer a dark silhouette. Standing in the light of a street lamp was a young man that appeared to be in his twenties. The grin had faded and it was replaced with an emotionless expression. The small breeze blew his long black bangs out of the way of his pale face. His icy blue eyes stared in front of him. Looking for something. You got it, a victim. How he loved that word.

I promise to depart, just promise one thing, kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

Nothing. He started to walk down the dimly lit sidewalk. His black shoes making a soft sound each time they hit the ground. A long black jacket flew behind him as he walked. “Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep,” he sang softly. Singing, something he did to pass time when he was looking for a victim. His eyes looking around each corner he passed. How boring it was stalking someone to bite. Surprisingly to him, he was wrong. It seemed like no one was out at this hour. Well, it was midnight after all.

This is what I brought you, this you can keep. This is what I brought, you may forget me.

He sighed softly and started to sing again. “I promise you my heart, just promise to sing. Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.” He stopped and stood there, letting the cool night breeze carry him away. His icy blue eyes were hiding behind his pale eyelids. He had to find someone. He needed blood.

He was desperate.

Kiss my eyes and lay me to....sleep.

Ooc: Heh, I love those lyrics. I seem to be obsessed with them. XD

[Mychélya]

OOC: Eep, awesome entry!! =D Love it.
Jana. Pronounced Yanah.
It wasn't like she was foreign, Polish or anything. Her mother just had been weird with names like that. The teenaged girl wound and ducked around the various dancing bodies, writhing themselves to the music. If you could call it music. More like a loud, steady beat, drums and some sort of instrument she didn't know, and didn't really care about. And no one in their soberly right mind could call it dancing either. Jimmy's was one of those nightclubs that was so packed that noone noticed what idiots the dancers were making out of themselves because their were all so jammed you couldn't really tell. And if you could, chances were you were too stoned to care. With some difficulty, she miraculously made it to the center of the crowd without getting bumped and spilling the tray of greasy food she balanced with one hand, high above the crowd. Three huge glasses of beer slid back and forth slightly, precariously on the top, their usual amber color flashing quickly from red to white to dark blue to green, and so forth and so on, the bright neon lights flashing to the beat that practically sent the floor vibrating.
In the center, the reason for her perilous journey, was a large stage. Everyone could see what happened up there, and in about a three yard perimeter around it was the VIP section. Seperated from the dancing throng by thick, red velvet rope seperaters, those who had a wad of extra cash got the privelage of sitting there, front seat view. It was generally accepted that the cash didn't have legal sources. The bartender didn't care, and neither did she. A nice tip was enough to buy a pack or so of ciggarette's.
Mm-hmm. Sad, really, for a girl of just seventeen to be crisping her lungs out smoking, but hey. Whoever said growing old was fun? Not that this was fun. Not by a long shot.
A brief description, maybe, would help.
The girl was clothed in dark, nearly black blue jeans, bell-bottomed. Underneath she wore black and white hightops; converse all stars. Expensive, dead expensive, but worth it.. she had had these for ages. Over the snug fitting jeans she wore a dark purple slip like skirt that traveled down to her knees and ended in a diagonal V-shape with a bit of purple lace. The cloth had little deseigns on it, sort of paisley but.. not paisley.
You get my point.
On top she wore a scarce, similiarily dark purple tanktop. The straps were wide and slid half off her shoulders on each side. From her elbows to her wrists she wore thick purple armbands with black stripes. The tanktop had the picture of a black cat sillhouette. Her hair was dark brown.. well, dark brown at the roots, lightening into almost blonde. Her hair had started out much lighter, obviously. It was tyed back in a loose ponytail, select strands left out to dangle, lap idly at her face. They had been cut longer then the rest, and not too neatly either. Hey, she did her own hair job in a cracked mirror in an upstairs dingy, dirty room with a toilet five feet from her bed. Give her some credit.
Her nose was round, ever so slightly upturned, over fully sculpted lips, a stubborn cleft of a chin. Ever wide grey eyes gave her a constantly startled look, and in them they carried a sort of strange look, a mix of meekness, and a certain stubborness.
Her nails were painted black with the cheapest polish money one could get, understandably. Around her neck she wore a black band, a choker. Aaand thats about it. Her clothing style was eccentric, but everything was cheap. The knees of her jeans were worn, the white rubber on the converse dirtied, but she looked well enough.
Back to.. where we were.
She ducked under the rope, sidling over to one of the more empty tables. The client tipped her generously after she served him the half grease half mad cow disease meal, to her delight. Of course, he was probably too drunk to know a buck twenty from a one, but hey, she wasn't complaining.
She should really have been used to it by now, but by the time she got back to the bar her head was throbbing. Long shift, graveyard. Of course, it was always graveyard shift here. People didn't go to night clubs in the day. Thats why they call them night clubs.
Doh
Scowling at herself slightly, she snuck around her boss and made it into a back storage room, dingy with moldy cardboard boxes and with a single dim lightbulb hanging on a bare wire from the ceiling. She ignored it, opening the back door. It squealed open lazily and she slid into the back alley way, one foot propped against the door to keep it open. Outside it was wet.. a recent rain. The alley disseapeared in the darkness to either side, and the dingy door she had entered out of was flanked by a few old, rusty trashcans. Puddles glistened slightly on the gravel, and, her head already feeling a bit better, she dug a slender hand into her pocket, reaching for a cigarette and a light. Smoking was a recent habit, only picked up in the previous two monthes when things had gotten.. well, worse, if that was possible. She pulled out a half used one and stuck it between her lips, cupping her hands around the lighter as she fired it up. It took a few tries, then the flame popped up. She leaned a bit closer to light it, hands instantly lightened in the glow, face half enlightened, half totally shadowed by comparison. Sort of eery look. She stayed like that for a few moments until it lit up then put out the lighter, slipping it back into her pocket as she leaned back with a sigh, inhaling slightly on the cigarette and then taking it out for a moment. She blew, fully sculpted lips pursued, and watched the smoke wisp out of her mouth. A few glowing ashes were tossed along with a sudden breeze that picked up, scattering into the darkness and going out instantly. She shivered slightly, shifting as goose bumps prickled up on her arms. As she did so, she moved her shoe out of the door and it closed shut with a click. She turned around, grabbing out her cigarette and cursing profanely. She tried the doorknob -- locked. It locked automatically.. nothing fancy, it was just an old, stupid door. She blew out a sigh, pouting her lower lip so stray strands of hair flew out of her face. Irritably, she turned, leaning back against the wall. She'd have to go all the around, to the front entrance, but whatever. She'd finish her smoke first. Why not?

[Miss Murder]

Ooc: Thanks! I liked yours too. Very descriptive. I forgot to say his name. I guess I will put it in this post.

It will not help at all just standing here. He opened his eyes and sighed. It was weird for him, he rarely sighed. He started to walk, his feet moving slowly, trying not to make a sound. He was in a way, a stalker and he had learned that.

He stopped, right by an alleyway and peeked around its corner. Oh, what is this? A victim? Finally. It was of course, Jana. He walked slowy and quietly towards her.

Once he got to her, he placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered, "Well hello there, love." His icy blue eyes spotted the cigarette in her hand and shook his head. "Bad habit." He took the cigarette and placed it on the ground. He placed his foot on it. "You know that is wrong," he whispered in her ear.

Oh, yes. His name? Davey. It doesn't sound scary, like you would think a vampire would have. It is just a normal mortal name. If you have a problem with it, go yell at his mother.

[Mychélya]

She took one more long draw, letting it out slowly. Suddenly she shivered again. Maybe she'd go back in earlier then she had planned... for some reason, the warm nightclub, the bodyheat emiting from all those bodies, seemed unusually inviting. It was oddly quiet out here, the beat from the club not even audible. She was just about to turn and make her way around when she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder. She froze, heart caught in her throat as he spoke, voice quiet yet seeming to resound in her ears in the dead silence of the alley. She felt the cigarette slip out of her fingers and heard his booted toe crunch it into the gravel. To her surprise, or rather not, she found herself involuntarily trembling.
"I-- uh-- I'll scream."
She spoke quickly, stuttering slightly, sounding breathless even though she hadn't barely moved the last five minutes. Suddenly she felt freaked, a sort of cold, sudden fear, the kind that is half rational, half.. irrational. A cold sense of panic rising quickly in her throat. She continued, quickly. "They'll hear me. Behind me. Th-the clubs packed. T-they'll hear me, and then they'll come out."
Her heart thudded in her ears. She had to force herself to breath slowly, just about hyperventilating, his cold hand firm on her shoulder.
He'd believe her, wouldn't he? He wouldn't know the beat in there was notched up so high you couldn't hear someone scream if they were three yards away. Unless he heard it. Unless he listened. He didn't know.
Did he?
She always had sucked at lying.

[Miss Murder]

Davey's hand gripped her shoulder even tighter. "Do you think I am stupid?" he asked, his voice soft and quiet. "I know that the music in that club is rather loud, I know that no one will hear you." His icy blue eyes not leaving her. He loosened his grip on the girl's shoulder. "Heh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Davey." He let go of Jana's shoulder and stepped his front of her, getting a good look at her. "Do you know what I am?" He grinned, showing his fangs. "It is so nice to find an attractive victim like yourself." He took a step closer to Jana.

He gently placed his hands on her face, the grin still on his face. He pushed it to the right slowly. "This won't hurt a bit," he said softly, before his lips were upon her neck, his fangs digging into her flesh.

[Mychélya]

She flinched, letting out a slight cry as his fingers dug into her bare shoulder. His gaze, icy, penetrating blue eyes locked onto her own frightened grey ones, unblinking. As he let go she stumbled backward quickly, grabbing for the doorhandle with trembling fingers. She knew it was locked, but it was worth a try. She let out a horrified cry as he grinned, fangs glinting in the moonlight, eyes welling up with tears.
Victim.
OOC: I have a question.. do you think we could slow down a bit..? Sorry, but your posts really don't give me time to react to anything... theres any number of things that could have happened, at various intervals in there -- I love your RPing, but she could have run, or anything in many intervals.. could'ju maybe slow down a bit, give me a chance to have her react? ^^ Sorry, not trying to be obnoxious.

[Miss Murder]

Ooc: Of course..sorry. I was thinking about that..I just got carried away I guess. So, she hasn't been biten yet? Again, I am very sorry. I guess I am getting a little too carried away with my first time rp vampire.

[peacefulsunset]

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[Mychélya]

OOC: Hey, its totally cool! ^^ No, if thats okay, not yet.. Happy 4th of July. Btw -- I looked up 'Kiss My Eyes And Lay Me To Sleep'. I found a site with tons of movies, I now have the lyrics to Miss Murder memorized and I'm in love with Jade.
I blame you.
x]

[Miss Murder]

Ooc: Happy late Fourth of July! Everyone likes Jade, why don't they like Davey and his awesome hair? I have the lyrics memorized too, I still mess up at the screaming part..stupid little part. XD Okay, time to get in my vampire mood..yes, I have a vampire mood..that is why I am currently taking out my AFI cd..

Bic:
"Oh, why are you so scared?" Davey asked, his eyes looked as if they were looking right through her. "I promise that I won't hurt you." His expression on his face turned emotionless once more. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders. His grip seemed to tighten each second that passed. "What is your name?" he asked, trying to find more about his victim. Maybe if he befriended her, she would feel less afraid around him.

[Mychélya]

Terrified, breathing frantically, she stumbled out, "P-promise..? Define huh.." sh-t, sh-t, sh-t, she was hyperventilating. Panicking. Hell with irrational now, this fear was.. entirely, totally, solidly based. She let out a cry, cringing as his nails dug into her shoulders, unable to resist a shudder that ran up her spine, "--hurt." From beneath her bowed temple she flickered open her eyes, wide orbs of chatoyance red-rimmed from countless sleepless nights locked onto his.. freezing, blue-white, twin chips of ice 'twixt curtains of dark, shadowed lashes.
A slender, gloved hand groped behind her, reaching... and clasping something, blindly. A bottle.. a smooth, cool, glassy bottle. Some kind of alchohol. Cheap stuff. But... She was too panicked to think very logically, but...
In her other hand, a finger-nail, cubicles stained black, rubbed at her lighter, hidden from view.
OOC: <.< *avoided filter* Muahaha. >.> Sorry for the amount of swears in above post, and filter thingy.. some how, 'poop poop poop' sorta ruined the moment, yes?
And only have true... I have -most- of the lyrics memorized. Most... xD And I just whisper to the screaming part. It sounds kinda cool-- much better then my attempts at screaming quietly enough not to bother family. (').(') And Davey rocks. He's adorable. But, if I liked Davey, you would kill me. *nodnod* Eerp, shall we take this convo into the messages thingies?

[Miss Murder]

"Define?" Davey repeated, his eyes meeting hers. "Now, do I look like a dictionary to you? Last time I checked I didn't look even close." His grip still getting tighter as the seconds passed. A flicker of light? What was that? His eyes had caught a glimpse of small flash of light, like from a lighter, which seemed to be coming from behind Jana's back. He quickly let go of the girl's shoulders and took a step back. "Do you want someone to get hurt?" he asked softly, his eyes still looking into Jana's. "I know that I don't."

Davey took a step forward and pushed Jana against the wall. "Please put the lighter down or whatever you have in her had that produces fire," he said, his face only centimeters from hers. "You don't want me to hurt you, do you?"

Ooc: Whisper..I should try that. I am not very good at screaming and singing at the same time. I would not kill you if you liked Davey. If it was Billie, I would kill you. Just kiddin'. Yeah, we should talk about this over the private messages thingy..

[Mychélya]

"Define?" he repeated, cold eyes locked onto hers.
"Do I look like a dictionary to you? Last time I didn't even look close."
Trembling, her breathing irregular and quick, she depressed slightly under his grip, cringing. Suddenly that painfully intent eye contact was broken, his focus catching a flick of light in her left hand. Instinctively her hand curled, closing around it. He released her and she stumbled back a step, immedietly turning.
"Do you want someone to get hurt?"
Setting the bottle in her right hand back down on the rusty metal trash can she had picked it from, she glanced up and around, searching for an exit, a hand slapping against the wall.
"I know that I don't."
Trapped. Bloody trapped. She swirled back around just as he strode forward, shoving her agaisnt the wall. She choked out a breath, head hitting the wall painfully, more from her awkward position then the velocity of his shove. She let out a sob, head lifted slightly up at him as he spoke, twin orbs of ice so hypnotizingly intense as he spoke softly, the one long piece of hair slashing across his pale face like a crevice across snow, so close that it lapped slightly at her tear-stained cheek.
"Please put the lighter down, or whatever you have in your hand that produces fire."
His voice was almost soft, not raised. It didn't have to be
"You don't want me to hurt you, do you?"
She began to cry, a choked sob, slipping from her throat as she reluctantly released the lighter. It fell to the ground with a slight clatter, muffled by the beating of her own blood in her ears. She sobbed, facing away from him, tearful eyes no longer able to keep eye contact.

[Miss Murder]

"Don't be afraid now," Davey said, watching her eyes turn away from him. "Just calm down." His one hand crept up to her face. His cold hand touching her tear covered cheek. "Please, just calm down," he said softly, his eyes not leaving the girl's face. "I promise that I won't hurt you." Yet. "Why are you so afraid of me? Is it my looks? Fangs? I am sure they scared you. Everyone is. Well, except for me." His soft pale hand still held the girl's face, while the other still grasped her shoulder.

She was scared. Everyone was scared of him, Davey, the vampire. It was kind of hurtful to him. Everytime they would see his fangs, they would freak out. It wasn't easy to be him. It would be nice just for once, someone was scared of him or his looks. Pale skin and dark black hair. None of them didn't even know his personality. That was the life of a vampire, he guessed.

[Mychélya]

"Don't be afraid now.."
Her uneven breathing quickened as he spoke, trembling. She had never... never felt so scarced in her life, a cold, clammy fear, like an icy hand grabbing her heart.
"Just calm down."
Trembling, taking in a shuddering breath, her eyes flitted nervously to his approaching hand. She flinched as it touched... it was so cold.. lifeless, yet-- soft. An almost welcome touch in that cold, icy lake of fear she suffocated in, were it not for the body it was attached to. Or rather, the fangs attached the body.
"I promise that I won't hurt you."
The words rang out in the silence.
Fully sculpted lips were parted, dry, sobbing breaths the only sound in the brief silence that followed. Grey eyes traveled to him, frightened. He wouldn't..?
'...to find.. an attractive victim...'
He continued, and to her surprise, in his voice, she detected.. emotion..?
"Why are you so afraid of me? Is it my looks? Fangs? I'm sure they scared you. They scare everyone((discreet grammar correction)). Well, except for me."
She replied, voice jumping randomly with her crying. "Y-your not going t'h-urt me..?" Wary, disbelieving... frightened. A subtle hint of relief. Her eyes were glossy, red-rimmed, nose pink from cying.
Victim.

[peacefulsunset]

OoC: Meep. Just thought I'd bump this back up for you two.