* [ + ] the black cross [ + ]

[Ky Jelly]

Club Blitz was in a secluded spot on the southside of Philly, famous for its very open policy. The main area had a rave theme, with scattered booths and tables circling the perimeter. The stage had been built in a semi circle, flanked by red curtains. It was either open for performances arranged by the club management, or served as extra space for people to mingle. Behind the curtains was the private area, available for increased privacy. A single sign hung above the curtains, reading “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

The dance floor was so packed the masses looked like writhing worms instead of people. Lyla lounged in a booth, toying with one of the strings of her corset, observing the motion around her. She smoothed the fabric of her skirt with her other hand, savoring the feel of the leather under her palms. Lyla sighed dismissively, rather displeased. So many prospects in the club tonight, but none that could serve her purposes. A lithe young man in his mid 20s had offered to buy her a drink, but he smelled like food so she politely declined. In fact, everyone in this club seemed to have that “food” aura about them. “If only I were hungry,” she thought, slowly raising herself into a standing position. She arched her back gracefully in a stretch that caused the light to reflect off her belly and eyebrow piercings and exited the booth. Swaying to the music, she danced her way towards the door. A hand on her waist stopped her from moving too far. Lyla turned, facing a petite blond wearing less clothing than she was. Her eyes approved but would she pass the test? She leaned in close, breathing in the air surrounding the girl. No, still food. Lyla gently placed a hand on the girls shoulder, smiled, then shoved. She watched as the girl toppled over, an expression of surprise framing the blonds face. Lyla smirked down at the girl before turning on her heels and finishing her journey to the door. She stopped before exiting to view the crowd one last time. No change had occurred; they were all still food. Pouting, she turned away from the disappointments and exited the club, focusing instead on what she would do next.

The cool air of the night caressed her body as she traveled, her heels making clicking noises against the pavement. A block north of the club her personal belongings were stashed in a dumpster. Heaving her bag over her shoulder, she continued north, looking for somewhere to crash for the night. She done a lot of traveling these past months, but one thing remained the same. Another city, another club, yet still no one to play with or a place to call home.
 

[Maze]

Leopards don't really purr the way normal cats purr. Oh, they made purr-like vocalisations, sure. But that'd be it, really. Which, of course, didn't explain why there seemed to be a continuous purring sound that filled this particular hospital room currently occupied by one patient, and one watcher.

The watcher was a healthy looking woman, wearing comfortably loose clothing. That sweater might be more than one size too big, actually. She had dark blonde hair, which at one point might have been cut into a fashionable layered 'do, but currently looked a little too long to still count as 'in'.

She yawned and, for a change, was seated somewhat normally in the chair that stood next to the bed. She'd commandeered the small table that came with the hospital bed, and placed a big coffee mug full of orange juice on it, and the book she was currently reading.

Something by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. In Spanish. Which was tough, because she only knew so many words in Spanish. So she cheated, much like she cheated with purring, and focussed on sounding out the words in her head instead of the actual story.

There'd be time for that later.

Or, heck, now too, she supposed as she glanced at the sleeping patient in the bed. Who, by the way, wasn't showing any signs of waking up just yet.  

[Freak Show Excess]

Lily reeled in her immediate dissatisfaction at the reply from D'Allessandro, knowing that anything she might have thought about the "suggestion" and how she'd have to reconfigure her plans for tomorrow could be read by the man. She smiled, more of a grimace turned up at the edges than a smile, and nodded. "Of course, I'd be honoured. It sounds lovely. What time should I be ready?" She took out a small black notebook and a gold, monogrammed fountain pen from her clutch-purse and paused, waiting for his reply. She honestly didn't know why she allowed herself to be led around by this man like a helpless lamb. If it wasn't for his tactile charm and the fact that he had never disrespected her, she wasn't sure she would.

Bertrand let the usual lazy smile grace his lips as he crossed his arms and leant against the doorframe. "I wish it was something more interesting than what I have to tell ya," he replied, yawning, then launching into the re-telling of that night's events with the flippant air of someone who's used to getting into close scrapes. "Really, it was nothing. I didn't want to stir up anything between our kinds that could be avoided, so I roughed the boy up and walked away. Little sod nearly sliced me in two, though. b*****d." He narrowed his eyes in irritation at the memory. "Anyways, what brings you here? Any news?"

((Hahahaha. It's been a while, yeah? I didn't re-tell Bertrand's story to Pyrites, 'cause I've already said it, and I thought it'd be a bit silly to copypasta x3 Anyways, here's hoping I can keep up with this thing.))  

[ieatwood]

Pyrites eyebrows narrowed during the telling of the story, none too pleased at the arrogance of the young newly born vampires. He shook his head softly, glancing Bertrand over appraisingly, though, he would heal most messes naturally. "Good to hear you kept your head. Someone brought in a new wolf, found out on the streets, looks like it was her first full moon."

He didn't need to fill in the rest, Bertrand knew the deal, she could be homeless, or in denial; or who knows what. Humans are capable of such monstrosities without the aide of superhuman strength and a hunter's instinct. Whatever the case, it was his job to see that she made it somewhere alright.


The new wolf, who was laying peacefully in her hospital bed at the Black Cross, was named Kane Bathurst. Currently, she was having the most peaceful dream she has ever had. A white wolf, tufted with gray tips on its ears and tail, and piercing green eyes races across a frozen tundra. Next to her, she sees her pack, other beautiful creatures, fit and well fed. They weren't hunting, or running for any purpose, just to exault in their nature, in their power. Certainly, they weren't the strongest predators, but they had strength in numbers and in their loyalty for eachother. They could run for hours like this and never tire, and when they stopped, they'd huddle together, in a big furry pile for warmth and not even the cold of winter would touch them. Kane stirred a little, as the leopard in the chair next to her set down her mug, a smile on her face.