New York City, the big apple, the place of hopes and dreams. The city that never slept. The city which also harbored the biggest vampire population in the country of the USA. Nothing stopped it from being as busy and buzzing as ever, even as the sun started to set. It was lively, loud, full of life. It practically radiated energy.
Yet, that excitement didn't radiate in Moonlight bar. No, the bar was quiet, though, not empty. Despite it being after work hours it was almost silent and not yet opened. The atmosphere inside the place was practically dead and heavy. The few bartenders and employees there busied themselves with any work. Soon the place would be alive, as soon as their invited guest arrived.
Seraphine Mallory, a manager of Moonlight Bar and coven leader, had called a meeting on behalf of the other leaders. It was mandatory for all to attend, no if, ands or buts. There was a reason the bar had yet to open and why she sat behind the counter, tapping her fingers against the hardwood of the counter anxiously.
Casper Abernathy, coven leader, manager of Moonlight Bar, vampire, friend, was dead. And the cause? Hunters.
Hunters were back and clearly kicking it in New York.
Fantasy of all kinds★★!! Here's a list: modern/urban, magic and swords, otherworldly/fish out of water, faeries and unicorns, sometimes dark, sometimes superhero-ish, sometimes mixed with sci-fi. The Boo Girlie's always down for weird, wild or whimsical! Yayuh!! :3 Oh! And Sky Pirates too~~!!
New York, New York || October 3rd - 1850h || A Dark Spark Night Club
New York, New York || October 3rd - 1820h || Abandoned Warehouse
"Where ya gonna' go now, TJ?" her voice crackled, yet her strong Brooklyn accent was still present.
The tall and thin figure wrapped her robes tighter around herself then timidly walked over to the other woman leaning up on the big, red and black motorbike. The black-haired woman leaning up against the motorbike was much shorter than the robed woman, but carried a feral intensity about her. The fluorescent lights buzzed above them, increasing the heaviness of the silence and the tension between the two.
"I only give to you, April and ask less in return. I give to you money so you can keep out of places... like this," the words that TJ, the dark-haired woman, emphasized were nearly a snarl, masking her French accent. The primal sound made the skinny robed woman wince and take a step backwards, "I give to you more than you need. True, it is what you deserve...but! Only as long as you heed my words. Loyalty, April, is high on my list of desirable traits. I told you to get clean. I told you that this 'home' of yours is no longer welcome to you. It is poison. It makes you ingest more poison. I kept you from this place. To protect you, April. To give you dignity back into your life--"
"Oh, but TJ!! I am soooo thankful of you! You do protect me! You just did this evenin--"
April's words cut off in her throat even before TJ's gaze fell upon her. Slowly the shorter woman in the leather riding gear turned her head and took a single, liquid step away from the motorbike. A scowl beset the pale face with icy blue eyes; a scowl that betrayed her most youthful look. TJ had the freshness of a 17 year old face. Oh, but those eyes... A heartbeat later, she was staring up at April, her nose a hair away from pressing up against the pointy nose on April's haggard face. The much-too-thin junkie woman shuddered at the near instantaneous appearance of the teen-faced woman in front of her. Oh how she hated when TJ did that.
"I was not done talking yet, April," her voice was barely above a whisper but it sounded like drums of doom in April's ears, "if I hadn't shown up when I did, he would have taken you and you would have been lain out there, lifeless, cold and forgotten. A mortal man would have been your wretched demise. Remember your place--"
Suddenly the words cut off from TJ and her head snapped back as if struck, sending the dark bangs flying from her porcelain forehead. Time seemed to stand still, then like the rush of water starting a new waterfall from skyscraper heights, her Clairvoyant mind was flooded and over flowing with imagery from a distance place, but in a similar time. ~There were many there. Vampires all of them. And the smell..? Old? No. Ancient. Ancient blood. Very demanding ancient blood. Royalty commanding her loyalty~ "Gethin..."murmurred the teen-faced Royal Vampire.
"Uhhhh... TJ...? You all done talking now...? Cuz like--" April covered her mouth and stifled a scream when TJ was instantly back in her face once more.
"You will clean up, find a proper place to live and get counselling, April." icy blues glinted as the vampire pointed at the exit in the distance. "You will never return to this place. Never come back to buy and take your poison here. Loyalty, April. Show it to me and you will still be protected. Now go and do what you must and get away from this mess. I will feed from you once you are clean again, ma chere."
And with those two words added on the end, April knew that she still had a chance for forgiveness and her eyes lit up. TJ had no doubt that April would not 'use' tonight. A soft and gentle stroke she gave the cheek of the Junkie woman; so sad that once upon a time, she was a magnificent Silver Vampire. But now she was but barely a shadow of her old self. April was a pauper now, drinking from a bottle concealed in a paper baggy; it was filled with heroin addicts' dark blood. The poor things. How low had they fallen.
no-lightbox
The near 1000cc engine of the black and red motorbike roared into life and instantly, the single glaring eye of the two-wheeled beast shone a path out of this miserable place. Upon leaving, TJ kept her speed at a modest rate, not wishing to attract too much attention to herself... Well, as much as a hot chick in tight leather on the back an even hotter and tighter motorbike rolled past could not draw attention. But luckily the lands surrounding the warehouse was normally barren save for the local homeless and downtrodden.
TJ pulled into the near empty parking lot of one of her places of work, A Dark Spark, a vamp club and daytime safeplace locale across the bridge. She killed the engine, took her helmet off but still remained straddled upon her red and black Beast; the vamp was undecided whether or not she should go in. A moment longer she held off then whipped out her cellphone. Oh how she hated this Vampire tracking device, but at least she had her 3Ser attachment case on it (Satellite Signal Spoofer). She stared at it for a few moments longer.
A small smile drifted across her face. She had resisted the urge to murder the man that assaulted April, her personal Donor. That in itself was a major victory-- et Maman would be so proud, le... But still... Maman Martine told her to get help and now the Brain Shrink Doctor she sought out in NY was recently put in jail. Thomasine-Jolie had done well to resist her 'cleansing urges' in the near two-months she had been in America... but for how much longer without assistance? No, Maman was right, she needed help. Especially now that she received some kind of Clairvoyant surge, TJ just could not mess anything up. Something big was going on.
Both gloved hands reached up and she shook out her black hair and straightened up her bangs. After another moment's consideration, she resisted the urge to call her mother and hopped off her big motorbike. Leather jacket over a shoulder and helmet tucked under an arm she walked off towards the side entrance of the club. There she saw Gina, one of the Bartenders, smoking a cigarette, leaning up against the building and casually swiping away at her phone.
"'Sup, G..." said TJ cooly and tossed an upward chinbob at the stylish Latina, "comment ca va?"
"'Stoy bien, amigaaaaa," a wide grin Gina gave TJ as she reached out to give the Gethin vamp a life-squeezing hug, "Que pasa? 'Sup, Sky Fairy... you a bit too early you know. Ooooh! But hey, since you here now girl, ya wanna' pick up a couple of cases for tonight for me? Special stuff. Imports, girllll wuuuut?! English Bunny and Northern Canada Elk. Ey, you from Canada right? You ever tried the Elk blood up there? They say-- hey girl, you okay...? "
Once again, TJ wavered, taking a step back. Not a vision this time, but a message, ~Trouve Florence Mallory. La fille de Mme. Seraphine. Mon amour, TomTom.~ It was TJ's Mother. And even though it was a short Telepathic message, it took a major toll on TJ. The black-haired vamp fell to both knees and she dropped both her helmet and jacket. One hand pressed against the concrete to keep herself from falling over, the other clutched her forehead; a scowl of discomfort sprawled across her pale face.
Gina was saying something but TJ could not make out the words, it was as if they were both underwater. Underwater...? Oui, underwater.... Underwater... calm began to course once more through her veins and soon enough TJ found enough strength to rise with Gina's aid.
"Giiiirl, you had me worried there!" said Gina as she passed TJ's helmet and jacket back to her, and once again gave a boob crushing embrace," Hey man, let's get you in there and get you something to feed on, kay?"
TJ nodded weakly, but smiled all the same, icy blues shiny fondly; Gina was one of the truly good-hearted Silver vamps. She allowed the Latina to support her at the waist as they went into the Dark Spark because yes, she definitely needed to feed after that mental blow.
"Yeah, we gunna' getcha all full blooded again, amigaaaa...! Fo'sho, man!! Big night, TJ. Lit, nom' sayin'?!"
"Merci beaucoup. Et oui... big night, G..." yes, there really was something really big going on. Maman would only use Telepathy across such a distance only if it was truly important. And truly confidential, "it will be a big big night tonight fo'sho, ma chere..."
Rose heard her mother before she spotted her standing behind the counter the counter, looking more tired than exasperated with her daughter's appearance. Whatever she, Pallas and Casper had planned to tell the rest of the coven must have been a big deal. Otherwise, she was certain the bar would be absolutely full right about now.
She could only give her mother a charming smile and peel a glob of dried blue paint from her face. She hadn't exactly been given time to clean herself up before heading to the bar. Yet, she didn't want to get in trouble with her only employer at the moment and her mother both. So, she finished the job and made her way to the meeting right on time.
Though, seeing how not everyone was here or accounted for, she figured she had a few more minutes to clean herself up and change into her clean and not paint stained clothing. "I'll just clean myself up real quick then." She said to her mother and set down her bag on the pristine counter before pulling out her cell phone.
It was annoying to know that the government was aware of there every move because of their cellular device. The knowledge of it almost tempted her to not have one, but it was also annoying that in this world without a cell phone it was hard to survive. Which was probably why the put the tracking device on it in the first place.
Quickly, she sent a text Portia asking of her whereabouts. She figured Kathryn must be around the bar and she already spotted Nico, sitting down sipping on a chocolate shake and a few others she rarely conversed with but not everyone was here yet. With that in mind, she knew she had to tidy up before everyone was and the meeting commenced.
"Hurry along, now," Seraphine commanded Rose, passing her bag back to her and still looking weary and pensive. It worried her, but she followed her mother's orders and went to the back.
"Drinking under the age of twenty-one is illegal." The bartender had told him for like the thousandth time since Nico had asked him for a martini. That had first begun since he had joined the coven and started coming to the bar. So, yes, he had asked for one quite a few many times. The answer was always the same.
Drinking under the age of twenty-one is illegal.
He could also argue that ay formation or existent of a coven was illegal too, but by now he was used to it. Each time, at least, he was given a different and new drink to sip on. Something they always added to the menu for their younger coven members. The ones who were "underage. Nico was certain that the "underage" vampires got a drink here every once and while, though, he knew for a fact whenever the managers were really watching the bar it almost never happened.
So, he sipped on his shake and watched the door waiting for anyone he knew to come through. He was really hoping for the twins or Amias to come along. He would die from boredom, or a brain freeze at the pace he was drinking if anyone of them didn't come. At the very least with the twins, they could stay completely sober with him.
Even his parents hadn't arrived, but that was only because they were gon on a business trip. Thank the stars and heavens or whatever great entity for that. His parents tended to be overbearing and protective and mostly were the worst in all honesty.They were the reason he hadn't even had a taste of alcohol even in his teen years. Still, they were a part of the coven.
"Hey, Nico." Rose greeted as she passed him by in went into the back where the employee locker room remained. He could only send her a wave before she disappeared behind the doors.
He played with the idea of leaving his body for a while until the bartender pushed him a small glass of what looked to be ... juice? "It's spiked, I think you might need a little for today." Was all he said.
Nico didn't bother pondering over his words, he took the glass and swallowed a huge gulp. Immediately he grimaced. "Ugh, that's bitter."
Quite frankly, Benji was getting rather sick of his job. For multiple reasons too. He could write a whole article - no a novel - why he practically dreaded going in for work. There were too many flaws and hardships for a Silver vampire like himself. Like how he worked with ignorant humans and alongside harassing colleagues.
Not to mention his asshole of a boss always gave him tiny, barely memorable articles to write. He rarely ever gave him anything to investigate. He was almost sure the old fart wanted to keep him out of the light as much as possible because of his species. Though, it was just speculation because the man never once showed any hostility or discrimination against him. He did hire Benji, so he supposed he should show some gratefulness.
He couldn't, no matter how hard he tried.
Still, he considered himself fortunate. A Silver with a well-paying professional job working for a well-known newspaper. Not many of his kind could brag about that. His family sure did, happy and proud of him. He had no right to brood and complain, so he didn't. He worked quietly and diligently and tried not to get too involved with his colleagues.
Sadly, that was hard to do when he was always paired with dolt Wesly. Thinking about that guy annoyed, he didn't like him and the feeling was mutual. For some reason, the chief paired them up on too many cases that they were practically partners now.
Benji plucked the cigarette from his mouth and put it out before tossing it into the trash bin nearby. Standing outside the newspaper building, his workplace, he sighed deeply, it was often that he worked overtime, though, he had been off for a while now. He had stayed to pass by the time until he left to meet up with a friend, Alex. His only friend.
As he popped a breath mint into his mouth his phone beeped. It was a text, no doubt from Alex.
i have to cancel, covering a coworker's shift at the bar seems like something serious is going on again with royals
Benji sucked on his mind as he read the text over again. It wasn't a secret to him that the Moonlight Bar had some group, or to be more precise coven. Yet he never took interest in before ... until now. The more he thought about it, whatever they discussed could be front page news. He would never snitch them out, but they would have material.
Maybe he could get a raise.
It was decided, he would go to the bar and see what was happening. Without another thought, he jogged back int the building, headed straight to his desk and gathered his things. Of course in his rush, he bumped into the moron Wesley. Of course.
It wasn't abnormal that Alice was working after seven. If anything it would be weird if she wasn't working. She had at least four different jobs that she did efficiently. It was rare she ever got a rest. And how could she when she had so many mouths to feed. Seven, to be exact if she counted her immature and annoying elder sister and her baby daughter.
Alice had been practically raising their family since the day her mother couldn't. It was hard and some days it seemed it gt harder and harder the longer it went on. She didn't mind too much, though, it was her family and she loved them. Besides she was a naturally hardworking person. The good mostly outweighed the bad.
The only reason she had stopped at her home at this time was to freshen up for her night job. While she did so it wouldn't hurt to check on her baby siblings. They needed to be checked on from time to time and lord knew her dumbass elder sister, Bridgette wasn't going to. Hell, Bridgette needing checking in on herself.
"Hey, Ally." Chloe, the third eldest greeted her. She was rocking the baby, Nana, in her hands. "Bridgette didn't come home last night. again." She whispered.
Alice groaned. "Maybe she should just never come home then." with that she walked through the living room where the others sat either watching television or doing their homework. She gave them all a kiss on the head despite most of their resistant and Ewing. It brought a smile to face.
She was in a rush, so, she didn't have time to stick around. She marched to her bedroom, shared bedroom, and changed. There was no time for her to come out her curly tangly hair, so she tied it back and headed out after saying goodbye.
Alice would be starting her face day at the moonlight bar ... as a barback. Occasionally, they would let her play the piano if she was good enough. Those were the exact words the manager had told her. More than anything else, she'd rather be out with Anastasia, kicking it.
With a huff, she made her way to work. It was in a nicer area, areas she worked in and not indulged herself in. She had made it earlier than expected and decided to call Anastasia and talk with her until her shift started.
It was unseasonably cold for October, but the close quarters inside of The Dark Spark were nice and warm. The latest club banger was booming from the speakers, bottle service kept every cup full, and Portia was in her element. The night was a typical one for her—go out somewhere with Kathryn, blow a bunch of her dad's money and party until dawn—it was a good life. Something felt off, though, something that Portia was unable to place as she danced with unfamiliar bodies. Normally, she wouldn't have had a care in the world, but as each track faded into the next, it was getting harder to deny that gnawing pit in her stomach. There was a shift in the air...or maybe it was just the persistent buzzing of her cell phone.
In the last hour alone, she had five messages from Pallas, the man who seemed to think he was her boss for one deluded reason or another. The texts ranged from curious to frantic, something about a meeting that had all of the sudden become mandatory. It was rare that she attended anything, always choosing to sleep in and not cavort with the rest of the Coven unless Seraphine demanded as such, but that same feeling said this time was different. Portia lightly ran her thumb against the screen and brought up a new message; Rose wanted to know where she and Kathryn were.
[TEXT]
Be there soon.
Suddenly the crowded dance floor turned from a good time into a hindrance. Squinting into the crowd and through the flashing lights, Portia struggled to spot Kathryn among the sea of bodies. She called the brunette's name, but her voice couldn't be heard over the DJ. Cursing to herself, Portia resigned to feeling through the crowd, her biokinesis lightly touching every person she passed by. Kathryn might not have been able to hear her, but Portia was familiar enough with her presence to find her. As she walked, her phone continued to ring, and Portia was sure that it was Pallas again. Whatever was going on, it was obviously important.
Eventually, Portia found Kathryn and angrily gave her heart a little squeeze. "We're leaving," she informed her friend, making sure to keep her voice low, "right now. It's mandatory."
Outside, there was a long line of people waiting to get into the club; obviously standing out in the cold hadn't dissuaded them from a good time. Portia pulled the collar of her black coat closer to her neck as she walked, passing a blur of faces until she came across one in particular; TJ must not have gotten the memo. "What are you doing" she asked, thinking it was rather bold to defy such an order. As Portia knew, their leaders had their limits.
Most days, Kinsey liked her job. There were worse places to work with ruder customers, less pay and more oppressive managers, but she hated The Moonlight Bar when Seraphine used it for a meeting. The Royals were always getting together about something—if it wasn't the truly special ones, like Pallas or Casper—then it was their underlings, sitting for an hour while being placed on a pedestal. As a lowly Silver, Kinsey didn't get the same type of treatment. She was lucky to have a job at all, luckier to still be alive considering the way some humans looked at her kind, but in her day to day life, that was beside the point. She and the other Silvers that worked at the bar were expected to do everything while the Royals never lifted a finger.
With a glass in one hand and a rag in the other, Kinsey watched her surroundings. The latest meeting was mandatory, yet the bar wasn't even close to full and Seraphine seemed to be on edge. In Kinsey's opinion, the redhead reveled in being the center of attention, getting to speak to a full room, but her elegant face looked worried. The overall tone was suspicious to Kinsey; everyone was a little bit too quiet, too hushed as they milled about and waited for the news, whatever it may have been.
"Do you know what this is about?" she asked, looking to her manager, Jonathan. He was a Royal himself, but he wasn't one of the horrible ones—nothing like Kathryn who was cruel for the sake of cruelty, or Portia who took what she wanted without asking. Jonathan was kinder, maybe a little more self-aware and as a Royal, he had more information. "Everyone is being kind of weird."
Giving another look around, she spotted Nico at the bar, and Seraphine's daughter, Rose, had just disappeared into the back. Kinsey couldn't spot any of her other co-workers, but she hoped they showed up soon. Whatever was happening, they were going to need all the help they could get.
The fall weather did wonders for his spirits, but it was incredibly bad for business. When it was cold outside, people were much more eager to get to where they needed to be, and they rarely wanted to stop and watch a quick "magic" show or empty their pockets of any burdensome change. Amias had been outside for hours, and all he had to show for it was his wind-bitten nose and thirty dollars. If the day became a trend, he feared that he may have to go crawling back to the coven house and beg for shelter. While some may not have seen it as the worst thing in the world, the mere thought left a horrible taste in his mouth and Amias couldn't bear to compromise his freedom for a warm bed.
"Do you like magic?" Amias asked, wiggling his fingers as a pair of Kings danced effortlessly up from the deck. He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, just passers-by on a busy street corner. There was always something going on in the city and the best spots always came alive at night. Amias was tired, cold, and he couldn't recall the last time he had had a proper meal, but he was determined to have at least one hundred dollars in his pocket by two that morning.
He called out again, his voice surprisingly loud for such a willowy young man. "Come on, I—" he nearly choked when a strong hand grabbed him by the back of the neck. It could have been a bum, of course, or a rival street performer who got touchy about territory, but Amias guessed they would have had more style than that. No one manhandled him like Pallas, because he didn't annoy anyone the way he annoyed the other man.
"Do you not check your phone?" the older man asked, finally letting go.
Amias rubbed at the back of his neck, not physically hurt, but his ego certainly was bruised. "I don't have a phone," he lied, knowing full well the device was sitting untouched in his pocket.
Pallas didn't seem to buy it and picked up the cup full of change and loose bills. For a minute, Amias thought he was going to chuck it into the street, but it was instead shoved into his hands. "We're going to the bar," he announced, giving him an unfriendly nudge in the right direction.
"For what?" Amias asked. He didn't want to argue with Pallas, a Schuyler Royal who was constantly trying to have him thrown out of the Coven for good.
For whatever reason, but definitely one that Amias didn't like, Pallas didn't answer. They walked in silence toward the Moonlight Bar, and turned down a familiar alley to enter the employee entrance from the back. It was warmer inside, which was a relief, and it turned out that they weren't alone. Rose was there, covered in paint and Amias flashed her a smile—to which Pallas, again, gave him another shove forward. Had he been the fighting kind, Amias might have tried to stand up for himself.
The main area could hardly be called full. Amias recognized every face, though few that he actually wanted to talk to. Almost immediately, Pallas left his side to join Seraphine. They looked to be in a hushed, intense conversation, though it was hard to tell what they were talking about. Instead, he found Nico at the bar and took a seat beside his friend. "Who died?" Amias asked, oblivious, yet still callous. The mood inside of the Moonlight had never been so solemn.
Noticing the bartender, he tapped his hand on the counter. "Can I get something strong to get me through whatever is going on?"
When it came to photojournalism, there were worse places to be in life. While it was true that Wesley Irwin wasn't out in some jungle photographing elephants, or in a desert documenting war crimes, the work he did in the city wasn't for nothing. It paid the bills, and more often than not, Wes was proud of the shots he took and the stories he covered. They were gruesome sometimes—a politician's murder, the ashes of an apartment building—big scoops didn't come up as often as he would have liked, and those were the times that Wes always contemplated a career change. The dry spell at the Insider Times was going on two months, and if he had to photograph another football game, he was going to lose his mind.
It was getting late, and darkness had already set in by the time Wes came up for air from his computer. Having only worked at the Times for a year, he didn't exactly have an office, and he had been regulating himself to empty conference rooms or empty corners ever since because the building had a better internet connection than his apartment building. He worked best when there was music playing, pictures came out better when he could hum to himself, much to the dismay of his distant co-workers.
Letting his headphones hang around his neck, Wes checked the watch on his wrist rather than the clock on the laptop screen. By his quick calculations, he had been occupying the main conference room for the last four hours and it was likely time to go before the night crew came in and started to do their thing. From the floor, Wes gave a stretch and tried his best to pop his aching joints. The wood floor was nice for decorative purposes, but it was hell on his lower back.
After packing up his things, Wes slipped his bag over his shoulder and prepared to head out. He had a series of pictures due the following morning, but they only needed a few more edits—something he could handle from his own living room. The building wasn't entirely empty as he made his way to the elevators, but he didn't exactly notice anyone creeping around until he literally ran into someone.
"Ugh," Wes groaned, stifling his apology. Benjamin was the worst—and not just because he was a goddamn dirty bloodsucker—he was just an unpleasant person. Technically they were partners, having been forced to work together on several stories over the last year, but all they did was bicker. Wes was forever envious of the investigative teams that got along, and he had lobbied the boss several times for a new assignment, but that was turning out to be a pipe dream. "Watch out."
Repositioning his bag on his shoulder, Wes noticed that Benji didn't look like his usual arrogant self. "Where are you going?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. For "partners" they were constantly trying to leave one another in the dark, and Wes wasn't about to be left in the dark on something big.
The music blared, the deep bass pounded in their ears, the lights flickered, and the people were dancing. The atmosphere was electric. The club was warm with the heat of the all the people that surrounded her. Kathryn was dancing, grinding against a human she had every intention of taking advantage of. Her long fingers slipped slowly into the blonde hair of the man she was dancing with, tugging gently and shifting his head to expose his neck to her.
Her brown eyes bore into the ivory skin as he pressed himself against her. She could see it. The vein was practically popping out in all its delicious blue and green tones. She could practically see the crimson blood rushing through as his heart pounded away with adrenaline. Just one taste. No one would even notice. Suddenly she grunted as her heart was tightened. Her eyes darted quickly to Portia as she glared at her.
"We're leaving right now. It's mandatory."
Kathryn snickered, turned her attention to the blonde man quickly and pressed a kiss against his lips. She began to move away with Portia, making a phone gesture with her hands and mouthing 'call me' to the man and continued out the door.
"Portia, you are no fun. You ruined my time with…uh…anyway, his name isn't important. I was having a good time and its my day off. Why is there a meeting tonight?" She scuffed as she rummaged through her purse for a cigarette. She lit it quickly and took a few puffs while Portia addressed TJ. Kathryn looked over to the girl and addressed her as well."Come on Teej. It's mandatory." She rolled her eyes and continued towards the curb to hail a cab.
"I don't think TJ's bike can carry the three of us," she muttered as she stood in the middle of the street until a yellow cab finally stopped. The cab driver rolled down his window and Kathryn bent low and spoke softly, "Moonlight bar, please." She winked at the driver who seemed to become quickly smitten with Kathryn and moved to the back door to open it.
"2, 3, 4. Definitely order more Tequila. 3, 4. Mhmm, more Bacardi too." Jonathan continued to mutter to himself as he took inventory of the drinks lined at the bar. As one of the managers of the Moonlight Bar, it was his responsibility to ensure everything was in order. The scope of his duties included inventory, purchases and the staff. Overall, everyone that worked at the bar was a pleasure to work with. Except for a few that Jonathan wasn't too fond off. A certain royal brunette came to mind but he wasn't one to express his negative feelings towards another. He was more reserved in that way.
He set his list down on the bar counter and began checking off some items when he was approached by Kinsey. Jonathan liked Kinsey. She was one of the few he could count on and trust. She was a silver but Jonathan never treated her as if she was lower than him. In fact, he didn't do that with anyone. He was stronger than most but he firmly believed he wasn't above anyone.
Jonathan looked around, there weren't many nearby but he refused to speak openly. He answered Kinsey in a voice barely over a whisper. "I'm not one hundred percent sure of anything. But..." Just thinking on the truth behind the meeting made Jonathan uncomfortable. "...there is something coming. I can feel it in the air."
Although Jonathan was indeed a royal and had more powers than the silvers, he wasn't in the loop on everything. In fact, he only knew what he knew because he had overheard Pallas and Seraphine whispering to each other as he restocked the inventory. He wasn't hiding nor was he purposely eavesdropping but he couldn't help overhearing a few words between the two. Their worried tones made a knot form in Jonathan's stomach. He knew something was not right and their secret meetings only served to confirm that.
"I wish I knew more but from what I do know...I think its really bad, Kinsey. I genuinely think we need to be worried. I'm not exactly sure what it is. But something is coming and soon."
Rose smirked at the response text she received from Portia. No doubt, Kathryn must have been with her and if that was the case they were out clubbing. If she hadn't been given a job, which was rare, she would have been with them. It worked out anyway, if she was there she wouldn't have been here on time and received double the trouble. Having your parent be a coven leader came with more disadvantages than advantages, especially since it was Seraphine and that was difficult in itself.
She dropped her phone on the bench, paused for a moment when Amias and Pallas walked through the employees' door. Someone was in trouble but was new about that. She only chuckled softly when they were gone, not wanting to get into any trouble herself. Coven leader daughter or not, she was not immune, if anything she was highly suspectable.
After tying her hair back the redhead cleaned herself up, scrubbing the paint from her skin and changing into a fresh pair of clothes. Not long after she rejoined the others in the lounge. She sat in front of Seraphine at the bar, resting her elbow on the pristine counter and her chin in her palm. She figured there was some she could get some info out of her mother before the meeting.
Her eyes wandered over Jonathan and one of the Silver waitress's whose name she couldn't remember. Maybe, he knew what was going on, he may not have been a leader but he was a manager and you had to be trusted for that. He may have overheard something too.
Then it dawned on her as a frown slowly formed on her face. "Where's Casper?" Questioned Rose, her back straightening, eyes on her mother.
Seraphine only sighed and served Rose her usual drink, a cocktail. She as very fond of fruity type drinks, it was rare she ever drank, though. Her eyes never left her mother as she answered tiredly. "He won't be coming," She whispered and left to occupy herself until the meeting started, Rose watched as she checked her watch repeatedly, obviously getting annoyed with the absences of the missing members.
With an answer like that, it only left her anxious with a sneaking suspicion that Casper wouldn't ever show up and for horrid reasons. He was one of the nicest people she knew as a child and balanced out her mother and Pallas in her opinion. How could he not be here? She feared for the worse, she didn't need to read minds to have a clue of what was going on.
"Who died?" Nico repeated, shifting in his seat slightly to face Amias, drink in hand. A smile quirked at his lips. It did, in fact, felt like someone died or something else awful. Seraphine didn't even bother snapping at the latecomers and there were still a few to arrive. It was also surprising to Amias here before a few others, he raised an eyebrow at the blonde and sipped on his drink.
"I dunno," he shrugged his shoulders and winced once again at the bitter taste of his beverage. A mischevious smirk snuck its way onto his lips and he went on. "I wouldn't be surprised if someone did. Maybe someone has been hunted." He lowered his voice to a ghost whisper, chuckling as what he perceived malevolently. Still, quiet enough that only Amias beside him could hear him.
Hunters. They were practically a boogieman tale to him and many other vampires. They were real, at one point, but that was years ago. He had never encountered one, nor had his parents, they were like a myth to him. Sure, he had experienced hardships and bullying as a vampire but never anything as harsh and dangerous as a vampire hunter.
There were some rumors that vampire hunters were still around, but that profession usually led to being imprisoned for life considering it was banned. Then again, some could argue having a coven was banned too but a few still existed. Yet, the idea of hunters in New York was still ridiculous.
Nico's smirk remained as he took another sip - gulp - of his drink, immediately he coughed it up. Quickly he grabbed a napkin to wipe the liquid from his mouth, coughing a couple of times more. He swallowed and breathed in.
"Anyway, how are you not the last one here?" he grinned,"did Pallas drag you here?"
Benjamin only stumbled back a step by the impact, but he dropped his coat and bag. His eyes moved down where his belongings fell. It wasn't actually a big deal, but he still groaned because it was all due to Wes. He may have held some responsibility for not paying attention, but he was sure the human male played just as a big a part if not more. However, he held his tongue and lowered down to grab his coat.
He stood straight again and openly glared at Wes. Gracefully, he slipped his arms through the sleeves of his coat and dusted the hem of his jacket. He would have to wash when getting home, he could see small dust - or was it dirt patches ? - on it. Who knew type of germs it was carrying now thanks to the moron standing in front of him. Benjamin popped his coat collar before folding it once again.
"Where am I going?" He repeated sharply, almost scoffing. As if he would actually tell him. Whatever until he found he planned to keep to himself if he could. More than anything, he needed some recognition and with that came a good piece and with that a promotion, he hoped. And he had no plan of sharing that with Wes. "That is none of your business. It's after work hours and I'm free to go where I please."His voice held finality, meaning that was the end of their conversation.
This time Benjamin did scoff and turned his heels to leave. There were a lot of other things he could say and wanted to him, but he refrained from doing so. They were in a work building and he didn't want to hear any bad things about himself in the workplace. He could very well lose his job for the smallest thing, he was a vampire and prone to danger in the work environment.
He only took about two steps before realizing the lightness on his shoulder. He forgot his bag in talking to Wes. Inwardly, he groaned and turned back around to nab his bag and swing over his shoulder. Wes was still there, the ends of his mouth twitched when an idea lit up in head.
"I'm going to a bar," a smirk made it's way to his face."A vampire bar, so, you can come if you'd like."
Wes who was feared and hated vampires at a vampire bar? The image was almost impossible but very comical. There was no way in hell he would actually be caught in one, Benji only wished to tease him.
Fantasy of all kinds★★!! Here's a list: modern/urban, magic and swords, otherworldly/fish out of water, faeries and unicorns, sometimes dark, sometimes superhero-ish, sometimes mixed with sci-fi. The Boo Girlie's always down for weird, wild or whimsical! Yayuh!! :3 Oh! And Sky Pirates too~~!!
New York, New York || October 3rd || A Dark Spark Night Club
no-lightbox
"What are you doing?"
She did not know if she cringed or not, but if she did she just could not help it. The voice of that bratty daddy's girl tore into her ears just like the squeal of nails dragging across a chalkboard. A light headshake she gave before wheeling about.
TJ wiped at her mouth as if she tasted something rancid then merely pointed at her red and black bike; a silent response was all she would bother for this clubbadonna. What with no: "Hello, TJ." nor even a simple: "Hi," this Shuyler could choke on the silver spoon she was born with. No, instead of a greeting she had the audacity to try and talk down to her; to question TJ as if TJ held the inferior rank or importance.
It was not as if TJ hated Shuyler blooded Royals, no, quite the contrary. She respected them and was thankful for their aid in actually giving rise to her Old Blood family of Gethin in Canada. No, she respected Shuyler blood. But this one, Portia... Well, Thomasine-Jolie could not help but revile her for dishonouring the Shuyler family; with what TJ believed was Portia tossing her parents money away for mere frivolty and selfishness.
"Come on Teej. It's mandatory."said Kathryn. TJ could not tell if the sarcasm and eyeroll was directed at her. She did not know Kathryn too well, nor Portia for that matter, since TJ had only been in New York for less than 2 months. But what she did know about these two was from what others said about them; rumours. But upon actually meeting them on club nights when TJ was doing deliveries, she found the rumours to be rather on target.
And of Kathryn, she knew that this other blooded Schuyler cared not for rules nor inhibitions. And her distaste for something mandatory was at odds with TJ's ingrained bloodbound sensibilities. But that being the case, TJ took the intonation and gesture as more disdain for authority rather than a jab at TJ's sense of duty. But the woman must know how much it irked her to be called: 'Teej' for certain! Yet still an acknowledging smile and upward chinbob she tossed Kathryn.
"I have been sent a reminder deja..." TJ's icy blue gaze slid from Kathryn over to Portia and the smile upon that teen-girl face vanished. "...alors I will see both of you there."
A liquid step she took and seemingly instantly she was straddling her giant red and black beast machine. A toss of her black hair as per usual, then she donned her helmet. An enormous growl errupted and a single accusing light shone on. A middle finger she shot at Gina, who was yet again smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. A huge grin and a return middle finger from the stylish Latina; as was the customary, yet peculiar, goodbye salute between the two friends. A heartbeat later, Thomasine-Jolie rocketed out of the parking lot.
It was her best power and the one that made her seem like a killer straight out of a slasher flick. No matter where you ran, no matter how far, she would seemingly show up from out of no where to get you; Clairvoyance allowed her to supernaturally see her prey's moves at a distance and plot an intercept course. It is what made her so effective as a weapon for her 'family business.'
And on top of that, it allowed her to circumnavigate traffic and upcoming obstacles before she was physically able to even see them. That and her nightvision was also enabled in her 'foresight.' It was her own version of GPS. She had been given a 'read' of where to go and her supernatural vision allowed her to easily locate and fly like a ghost rider out of hell till she reached her destination.
It truly was marvellous to watch TJ drive through the streets, alleyways and sidewalks of NY at breakneck speed. It was also the very reason she never named her motorbikes nor wore any fancy riding leathers. Driving like a meth-taking maniac drew cops. And as such she would always have to sell/trade her bike in at chopshop places and prices. Always a new bike and gear every week it seemed with this woman. How could she afford such transactions so often?
Well, her lifestyle was closer to Portia than she would ever, ever admit. She was a LaFee after all, and her Maman LaFee had lots and lots and lots of old money and no doubt would she always provide for her one and only lovely daughter. TJ's mother spoiled TJ but at a cost; it was etched deep into her mind and heart to never, ever turn down a request from a blooded Gethin. Unless Maman commanded otherwise of course. And Maman commanded her to the beck and call of Mme. Seraphine and the Mallory family; specifically to watch for the daughter, Florence.
<~<★>~>
New York, New York || October 3rd - Current Time || Moonlight Bar
And so after carefully hiding her bike and emptying out her precious 'tools' from the cargo storage, she made her way over to the Moonlight Bar. After straightening her hair and attire proper, she entered the the Bar in full regalia.
Into the lounge went the black leather clad, teen-faced vampire. With much purpose, yet with panther like ease, she strode towards the Mallory's. Once before them, she nodded politely.
"Bonsoir Madame Seraphine, Mademoiselle Florence et a tout le monde. All apologies for being late,"if Seraphine held out a hand to TJ, she would take it and gently place a kiss upon one cheek then the other of the Matriarch here. The same gesture she would do for Florence if allowed,"I am here upon grace of my Maman, Damianne-Jolie LaFee, donc my skills and abilities I will provide, as Rescinder or otherwise, madame."
Rescinder.
Saying it aloud for the first time in a long time sent shivers down her spine. It had been months since she was able to cut loose and be what she was meant to be. She was a hunter by trade and trained since she could walk. The LaFees had a staus to keep and their Rescinders kept all those clamouring around them in line. Espionage, intel and enforcing was what she was all about and murder was usually the end game. Bullets, blades and of course, blood; Thomasine-Jolie loved it all.
But TJ's nonsense with her 'Act of Cleansing' and all that, the murder streak she was on, left her family but no choice to send her into the vastness of NY to get swallowed up and have her lay low for a while. And it took her nearly two months to finally feel useful once more. And perfect timing too; her 'therapist' was currently incarcerated and it left TJ to her own devices. And so it was as they say: 'an idle mind is the devil's playground.' And that playground was teasing her, tempting her, to stalk 'The Wicked' once more. Hopefully the Mallory's would give her a proper distraction from 'cleansing' yet again.
And so whether or not she was chastized for being late-- which was rare for this female --she would again nod politely then step back from the mother and daughter. As was she was taught, she flanked the Matriarch's left shoulder at least two arms lengths away; enough space for another of higher rank or station than she to stand. Like for instance someone like M. Pallas. A smile she afforded him and nodded politely,"Bonsoir, Monsieur Pallas."
With chin up and both hands clasped behind her back now, she stood at the ready. This stance was taught to her for reasons two-fold. One, it was a respectful resting pose worthy of a Gethin royal. And two, her hands were less than a heartbeat away from the short blade and handgun strapped to her at her lower back; The Rescinder's tools of the trade.
There was no part of Portia that was sorry for anything she was. If people hated her for being privileged, that was their problem, and she didn't give a shit about it one way or another. She wasn't, however, going to have Pallas berating her if a Coven member didn't show. TJ could wipe her mouth at them all she wanted, it wasn't going to blot out the sense of urgency in the air, or stop her cell phone from ringing. She swore, Pallas must have had his finger on redial, mindlessly pressing until she picked up. Portia didn't want to deal with him over the phone, and even if she did, he was still going to get in her face later.
It was then that Kathryn chose to mock the messenger and Portia rolled her eyes in return. "Don't blame me for your dry spell," she said, not particularly caring that her friend was only going to get laid for six out of seven days that week. Walking toward the cab, she left TJ to stand in line and slid into the backseat. Kathryn was a little more decent, waiting for the other woman to actually reply before getting in. "I'd rather be staked through the heart than ride around on that heap," Portia remarked once they pulled away from the curb.
Traffic wasn't atrocious that night, but it took longer than necessary to get to the bar. After paying the fare, Portia went inside with Kathryn and was surprised to see that TJ had beaten them there--so much for her bike being junk. She was standing with Seraphine and Pallas, and Rose was nearby as well. The bar was definitely experiencing a mood, and that only deepened her suspicion that something was horribly, terribly wrong. Some people, however, were immune to the sense of dread and Portia wasn't surprised to see Amias and Nico acting like children.
"I'm sorry we're late," Portia said, sliding up beside Rose at the bar and across from Pallas, though she was speaking to both of them. Her tone was nothing but respectful when dealing with the leadership despite how much she loathed the Schuyler leader's meddlesome ways. "What's going on?" she asked, feeling that she was entitled to some kind of answer. "Where's Casper?" Out of everyone, she liked him the best. He didn't pry, and he wasn't cruel, he wasn't out for power. If something big was happening, they should have been waiting for him.
The bar was slowly beginning to fill up, but the air inside remained dark and heavy. Nervous by nature, Kinsey always thought the sky was going to come crashing down, that the world was going to end at the drop of a hat, but she was beginning to think that something was truly wrong. Although she hadn't worked at the bar for long, she had gotten used to seeing the ins and outs of coven culture, and how the Royals conducted themselves. It was never anything like this—a big meeting, hushed whispers—Kinsey wondered if Amias was right and someone had died.
Talking to Jonathan usually tamped down her worried mind. He was as logical and straight-forward as they came, and always kind in his delivery as well. When he dropped his voice to answer her, however, Kinsey's stomach dropped with it. She leaned in, though it her hearing was extra sensitive, it just felt right. "What do you mean?" she asked, not wanting to admit that she had the same feeling. As a Royal himself, Jonathan knew much more than her or any other Silver, and if something was bad, he would know before most.
Unfortunately, for the moment, it seemed that Jonathan was in the dark as well. "What do we do?" she asked, though he was unlikely to have an answer. Whatever was coming, it seemed stupid to be standing around taking inventory and serving drinks.
Behind them, Amias, one of the Douglas Royals, tapped his hand on the counter and asked for a drink. He wasn't in the bar very much, but he had a usual and Kinsey had served it enough times to make it without having to ask exactly what he wanted. She made quick work of a Negroni and set it down in front of him on a napkin. She managed to hear a small portion of his conversation with Nico, however, as Amias was searching through a pocket full of crumpled bills.
"Keep the change," he grinned at her, as if he was some sort of high-roller.
Kinsey kept herself from rolling her eyes, and made a deposit in the register before returning to Jonathan. "Did someone die?" she asked, her voice just as quiet as his had been. Maybe she was just worried, but Maybe Amias was onto something. After all, Seraphine and Pallas were acting strange.
If someone had died, Amias at least wanted to wash down his sadness with a drink. He signaled at Kinsey and she was quick with his drink of choice, he even let her keep the change. He plucked the straw out of the glass and took a long sip before turning back to Nico, who didn't seem pleased with whatever was in his cup. Talking with Nico was fun because, unlike most of the Coven, he didn't take himself so seriously and was able to joke about life without being a downer. In retrospect, he was the opposite of Pallas and Amias could appreciate anyone who didn't aspire to be the Schuyler leader.
"Do you think?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at the mention of hunters. There were rumors, of course, there always had been, but it wasn't often that Amias felt unsafe. Some humans were hostile toward him by nature, on principle, but real hunters hadn't been heard from in decades. He gave a look around, wondering if the meeting was about a death. He couldn't think of many reasons to urgently call the entire coven to order, but he had to admit, the air inside was uncomfortable.
Giving a shrug of his shoulders, Amias took another drink. "Look, if it's that," he began, keeping his voice low, "I hope I'm first. I don't want to watch the rest of you get picked off. I'm too sensitive for that." He may have made a lot of jokes, but there was truth to his words; the friends he had meant a lot to him and he didn't want to see anything bad to them. Thinking on that, he glanced over at Rose, who was finally free of paint and sitting with her mother. He was enjoying the view until Portia and Kathryn showed up.
It was all well and good, he supposed, because Nico was sputtering beside him. He leaned over and grabbed another stack of napkins, dabbing at the counter where the liquid was spilled. "You have to lay off," he laughed, though he wasn't going to lecture his friend.
The subject was changing again, and Amias sighed when Pallas was brought up. The torture had ceased for the moment now that Pallas was back among his own kind. "Yeah," he nodded, drinking again to forget, "by the neck. I was standing on the corner, you know, grifting, and he snatched me from behind." Amias shook his head and gave a scoff, "if it weren't for Mr. Klaus and Casper, I'd have been out of here a long time ago."
Although, he didn't know if that would have been so bad. Life without a Coven was probably less stressful.
When it came to photojournalism, there were worse places to be in life. While it was true that Wesley Irwin wasn't out in some jungle photographing elephants, or in a desert documenting war crimes, the work he did in the city wasn't for nothing. It paid the bills, and more often than not, Wes was proud of the shots he took and the stories he covered. They were gruesome sometimes—a politician's murder, the ashes of an apartment building—big scoops didn't come up as often as he would have liked, and those were the times that Wes always contemplated a career change. The dry spell at the Insider Times was going on two months, and if he had to photograph another football game, he was going to lose his mind.
