Brighton: City of Darkness

[Stacisaur]

​

Eight scraggly legs scratched at the glass, trying to crawl up a thin line of silk. Such a little body of black seemed so defenseless and worth not more than a piece of lint. Yet, the strength and determination in this creature was inspiring. The arachnid crawled up to its freshly spun web, settling in for the evening from a hard day of work.
And then, the worst part came as everything vigorously shook beneath its disturbing limbs. Silent screams and sudden movement came from the flustered insect, so frightened and so vulnerable. Deep hazelnut eyes blankly stared forward as the spider's fall occurred before them. Such amusing tragedy.

A smirk curled at the lips of the young man while he leaned beside the window, dusting off the now criminal hand against his white and black checkered button down. Taking one last hit before he would turn on the bright red sign outside, the smoke was held against his pearly, ever so pointed chompers.
Squeaky black boots sounded out against the wooden floorboards while his body twirled around to face the rest of the tavern. It really shaped up well over the years, making the male proud to call it his own. Flicking the worn out object between his index and middle fingers away into a trashcan, it was time to open the place up for the night.

For the tall, lanky body at 6'3'', a few steps were all it took to reach the front door and switch the outer sign to "On". Deizel found himself adjusting his gray suspenders while he moseyed on behind the counter. He could see his own pale reflection staring back at him in the clean, shining chestnut counter top.
Smoothing one hand along the fixed up pompadour of dark brown strands on his head, his thoughts were calm and collected. Of course, business had just opened for the long night ahead of him. As always, however, the creature was prepared to handle it all. Reaching down below in one motion he had slung a wash cloth over his left shoulder and grasped a mug in his right hand.

Every night seemed to have some sort of excitement at The Iron Ale. Whether it was in the form of hazy individuals, clouded over by too much to drink down, or the form of a brawl. Anything goes for a night at the tavern. Diz grinned such a wide set of whites as his rag went to work against the cool glass. He was looking forward to the possibilities of the new night.

 

[Mixavia]

The delivery truck's door moved a little at first, and then opened quite quickly, slamming against the side of a car. A petite figure slipped out of the back of it and looked around, confused. It was dark outside, for the sun was already gone, and cold - colder than one would expect it to be, really. Although the street was empty and there wasn't a living soul around - literally, too - there were sounds coming from the nearest building; the sign that was placed above the entrance read "Brighton B&B" in big, golden-like letters. The person gazed at them for a while and then turned around, closing the truck's door.

Brighton. As the woman walked away from the vehicle and reached into her pocket to get out a pack of cheap, disgusting in flavour cigarettes, she tried to focus her mind. Truth be told, she never heard of that place, and now she was here after an almost day long ride in the truck, between the blocks of ice and what appeared to be frozen fish and various seafood. Lighting up a cigarette, the blonde girl raised it up to her mouth and took a deep breath. "Fuckin' perfect" she murmured to herself, closing her eyes for a moment. Her stomach churned a little and she felt nauseous almost instantly. The smell of fish was nearly everywhere, but thankfully, not on her clothes, and it filled her nostrils even though the smoke lingered both there and in her mouth already. As it was now, Lorette was starting to think she was never going to lose the feeling of that stench in her mouth.

Dropping what was left of her cig to the ground and stepping on it with her heel, the woman looked around again, narrowing her eyes. That's what she got for being stupidly careless. Brighton! What kind of small, forgotten town was that? Lorette growled and run her fingers through her hair, walking slowly towards the B&B. She was going to think of a way of getting out of this place later; for now, she had other urgent things to take care of. As usual, the woman felt this certain kind of hunger slowly growing inside of her, and it was obvious to her that nothing could make it go away.. Except for one thing that she was eager to get soon enough. Tugging her dress down a little bit, exposing more of her pale skin, Lorette smiled to herself.

A small bell jingled when she pushed the door and walked inside. There were three men inside; one behind the counter and two sitting on the chairs, with small cups in their hands filled with something - judging from the smell that filled the room - alcoholic. Lorette smiled at both of them and they glared back; that was going to be simple. She was just about to walk to their table when the older guy spoke from behind the counter. "Miss, are you okay?" came his voice, and the woman looked at him, the smile not leaving her lips. "I'm doing good. Just trying to find some company for the night. It's so cold outside" Lorette sighed, taking a strand of her hair. As she entangled it around her finger, one of the visitors gave a short snort, but the oldest male didn't share the general happiness. He opened his mouth as if to spoke, but before he could utter a word, one of the visitors stood up and raised his eyebrow, smirking. "Blimey, it is, innit? I'm cold too, sunshine, and so is my friend. Any ideas?"

Easier than she expected. Lorette raised her finger and pouted. "One at a time. I have rules" she responded, to which the man laughed. "Yea, yea; you are a classy lady, no doubt, sunshine." The man looked over to the owner and it was enough to see from his face that he wasn't going to let them be in one of their rooms. The woman had to remember not to clap her hands in joy; outside was way better for her plan.

As they walked outside, the man shivered slightly. Lorette had to admit, it really was cold - and quite foggy, too. She had trouble seeing a few meters ahead of herself, and strangely, the mist seemed to come from one direction. Shrugging it off, she let the man lead her to a small alley and she giggled softly when he put his hands over her almost instantly. To think it all went so smoothly.. Lorette brushed her lips against the male's neck. The warmth she felt there made her gulp a little. Just a second more, a second longer..

***

The woman left the alley a minute later, alone. She picked up the pace, going past the B&B without looking at it with her head lowered and her arms crossed. The hunger was all gone, and Lorette took a few deep breaths, adjusting to the feeling of newly gained power that ran through her body. The blonde kept walking for quite a while. The night was still young, but she had to think ahead. After checking the wallet she took from the man, Lorette nodded to herself and slowed down as she walked deeper into the mist.

 

[Stacisaur]

The cool glass was no match for the bumpy washrag, gliding over every little speck until the surface was shining. No stumbling bodies had pushed into the pub yet, which wasn't too surprising for this time of night. Also, it was the middle of the week. Even the creatures of the night preferred weekends over other options. And, besides, there were probably others still preparing their dinners to be had for the night. Those pale lips on the owner's face curled up at one side, forming a smirk while the glass in his possession was placed on the counter. While taking up the next victim of his rag, Deizel could feel the familar vibrations beyond his gut. Looking down to the collection of plaid, his free palm pressed flat on the fabric.

"Sssssh."

He cooed his stomach to silence, continuing his ritual of cleaning. It had been a few weeks since his last meal - his last "real" meal. Work had kept him busy enough, so it didn't bother him when his body would feel the chills of withdraw. It was hard to tell himself he was tough, he could handle this. Yet, he managed, and clearly was holding up alright. While striding over to the fireplace located far from the entrance, the lanky body set down another piece of dishware. His lips pressed tightly to each other, leaving just a little space in the center between them.

Whistling in a low, steady tone, very long arms stretched out to adjust a few logs for quality burning. Crouching low, Deizel began to drift away into his mind, his fingertips drawing circles against the wooden cylinders. He could still recall how nice the warmth of a human body felt when he would hold one. The excitement that twinkled in those innocent, pure eyes, so deep and so colorful. While alive they weren't too bad. It was a pity that they tasted just.. so good while that life was drained from their veins. His thoughts ran red as his eyes became a deeper shade of brown, pupils dilating for a moment..

Clenching his sharp teeth together, Deizel flinched as he felt a log fall onto his pink. Retrieving his arm quickly, his head snapped to glare into the depths of the fireplace. Hissing briefly through his whites, he reached out to light it all up. Spectating as the flames licked at one another and joined forces, the seemingly young man stood back up, dusting the ashes from his pants. Sucking idly on the tip of his wounded finger, he cold taste the copper sensation. Maybe closing time would be fit for some dessert. Business came first, though. It always came first.