Amongst The Shadows (Open)

[Circe La Croix]

The dangerous hours of darkness crept closer midnight: “the devil’s hour.” London was steadily becoming illuminated and a dull roar was furtively creeping into the streets. Restlessness filled the air, constricting the lungs of many…suffocating them to their desires. Prostitutes lined the streets accompanied by drunken lowlife. Dancers were escaping their nightmares through music…sweat dripping down their bodies making them glisten in the flashing lights of the party. The bass beat of a nearby bar echoed blocks away into the blackened warehouses.

A deafening screech pierced the hearts of many as Circe heard the chaos. Her crystal blue eyes shot open only to find dark. The warehouse was vacant save a few mice squirming in terror from the shriek. Gracefully moving to her feet, her jet black hair fell flawlessly to her shoulders. She stepped into the dim moonlight and her pale skin seemed to glow. A cross hung from her neck, dangling towards the crevice of her breasts. Her top had slits in it, revealing her figure perfectly, and her leather pants clung perfectly to her legs, exposing every desirable curve… an addiction.

It was in this moonlight…her true form became visible to the world. Moving amongst the shadows, none knew what she was, but in this pale light her pearly white fangs sparkled impeccably. A devilish smirk fell upon her luscious lips as she prepared for a night of feasting.

[Dane]

Dane made his way down the side walk, his head facing down slightly and his hands were in his pocket. It was odd for some one like him, to be in this part of the city. Obviously it wasn't the nicest part of London, or the safest. But it did not bother the man, the type of people who came out at night interested Dane at the least. The night seems uneasy.... its not always like this. He said to himself while looking over his left shoulder. The adult now began to look left and right constantly. It might of started out of paranoid but it became clear he was looking for a bar. One that would at least suit a man of his standards.

[Circe La Croix]

Circe's heart pounded steadily as she silently crept out of the warehouse and onto the chaotic streets. Dead trees lay scattered throughout the city, only a mere reminder of the approaching winter months. The cold, delicate air kissed at her cheek. Her icy eyes gazed up at the midnight blue sky and she noticed a few clouds in the distance. The full moon was glimmering. It was a perfect night.

Restraunts and bars were becomming more crowded as the population fled to them in hope of warmth. Only those accustomed to the cold remained. Smirking, she stealthily walked through a dark alleyway towards the city. The lights were bright, making her scowl in hatred. Remembering her fangs were still bore, she withdrew them...her teeth returning to normal. Quickly she veered to the right and began down 4th Street. She knew the most popular bar in the city was located only about 15 blocks from the warehouses.

Being dressed the way she was, many men mistook her for one of the numerous prostitutes. Horns honked in her direction, but she ignored them...her hunger lying in one place: the bar. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally arrived. She took a step into the liquor infested place and immediately withdrew to the shadows. There was an open table in the corner and it was there that she decided to wait for the perfect moment.

[Dane]

Dane continued to walk down the side walk. So far none of the bars had met his standard. There seems to be not once decent pub, but then again if I was looking for a decent bar I shouldn't be looking in this part of the city. He thought. With that he concluded that it would best to pick the closest bar, which by coincidence or luck depending on the point of view it was the same one Circe had entered. The bouncers had thrown out a couple of drunks while Dane stepped over what he assumed was vomit. He had already made his plan, buy something drink it and go home. "Give me your most expensive drink." He commanded while placing a rather large bill on the counter. "Keep the change." Dane stated knowing it would make the bartender some what happy and maybe prepare his drink faster.

[Circe La Croix]

Circe had watched as two men began a drunken fight...wailing their arms at each other. She guessed that out of about twenty punches, maybe three actually hit. "Pathetic..." She whispered, to no one in particular and couldn't help but smirk. Upon hearing the racket, the bouncers immediately took action. Breaking the two up, they casually tossed them out the door as if it was an every night routine.

Not too long after, a man of a different stature walked in. He looked...lost. Like he didn't belong. The large tip only verified her suspicions. What was a man of such wealth doing in a place like this? Her eyes took in his frame, examining everything about him...but she couldn't figure it out. Circe was almost in a trance, but was soon shook back to reality by the waitress, "Would you like anything?"

The voice startled her for a moment, and she quickly looked up at the woman. Circe's first instinct was to scowl for disturbing her, but then she realized how dry her throat was. "Something strong." Her voice was firm, yet somehow soft and entrancing. The woman nodded and delivered the order to the bartender. He made her drink and delivered it quickly. "This one's on the house." Smiling deviously, he winked at her and left.

"Disgusting..." She mummbled as the man kept giving her looks from the bar. Sighing softly, she returned to her previous engagment. Her crystal eyes locked on the man once more. Perhaps he was here to show off, or perhaps for harmless fun. Deep in thought, she reached for her drink and took a gulp. The refreshing liquid slid down her throat with ease, making her feel somewhat alive. She kept her gaze focused on the man...trying to read him.

[Dane]

He felt the cool scotch run down his throat. Surprisingly the bartender had given him a full bottle not just a glass. But the man wasn't complaining. The bartender walked by Dane, "It looks like some one has their eyes on you." He whispered gesturing his head in the direction of Circe. Dane looked over his shoulder and glared at the woman. He then turned his head back facing forward.

After perhaps ten minutes of drinking Dane stood up, Leaving more then enough scotch in the bottle. It was a strong drink and would consider himself insane if he was to finish it all. His vision was already a little hazy. Walking out of the bar, he managed a straight posture when even drunk showed off his high status.

[Circe La Croix]

Circe saw the bartender whisper something to the man sitting at the bar and immediately knew it was about her. His glare sent chills down her spine, and she quickly looked away. Her hands toyed around the rim of the glass, before lifting it up and finishing the last of it. The alcohol was just barely beginning to show signs of taking effect as Circe stood up. The man had walked out of the bar maybe five minutes ago, and it was her intention to follow him.

Leaving the alcohol infested bar, she smirked as the cool wind began to run through her hair. It was a perfect night. Licking the last taste of drink off her lips, she made her way down the street. She knew he couldn't have run too far seeing as he was pretty drunk. Finally catching glimpse of him, she strayed back...hoping not to be seen. She noticed his straight posture and it only intrigued her more. Who was this man? Creeping a little closer, she made sure to stay amongst the shadows.

[Dane]

Dane continued to walk down the side walk, or at the edge of it, his straight posture had quickly diminished. He was drunk, but he didn't know that. The man thought he was walkind on the center of it but in truth it was the edge. His state did not become clear till he tripped over his leg. The alcohol by now had obviously taken affect. Getting up he slapped or patted his cheek lightly. "Come on now, homes only a few miles away. We'll be there in no time if we can survive." Dane looked over his shoulder, to check if was heading in the right direction. A figure slipped into the shadow. The man thought nothing of it, if he was sober he would of. Instead he continued to head in the same direction.