pin point my location

[Emily Jones Patterson]

Writing to, Tomas - - With five hundred and two words - -
Singing Mayday Parade

How did I get here? One minute I'm devouring a sumptuous meal and then the next I am walk around aimlessly called by some unknown force. If this is Caroline’s doing I’ll have to rip off someone’s head, and if not… well then I will still tear flesh apart. Who would ever build a place like this? The buildings, disgusting. I have to get out of here, or I will lose my sanity.’

[/color] Emily thought as she walked through the warehouse district on her first night in the community. Orange eyes grudgingly stared at the emptiness and expressionless of the night sky above her, there were no stars, no moon, nothing. It was just a matt navy blue that reminded the vampire of her endless years as an immortal. Emily had always resented her maker, the man that killed her, brought her back to life and then left her to die in the cold. He was not a master, not a maker he was nothing, and after her mortal death Emily became as cold as the snow she was left to die on. Black hair covered her face like a funeral curtain, a face covered in tears hidden by thin lace. Most people that tried to get to her were dead now; there were her family which had died back in the revolution, her friends that were bought as whores and slaves, and even mortal love that died like a candle in the wind. She was empty, done with mortal emotion, her only company a cousin which she resented and her prey’s cries. Walking continuously through the darkness the girl felt a snowflake land on her arm. It was unexpected, normally she was covered in fox pelt, but because she was so rudely interrupted by the place where she now stood, her arms were nude, and the only clothes she wore was a thin silk nightgown.

The snowflake stayed in place because of the dead flesh it landed on, the moisture partials staying frozen on Emily’s soft skin. Snow was her only love, she loved the smell of the frozen liquid, she loved the look of diamonds when the moon shone through the atmosphere, and it reminded her of her of the mountain village where she was born. It stayed for another moment, but then flew away, leaving the vampire as fast it came. I’m going to kill that slut, a thousand times.” Emily swore aloud so that her cousin wherever she was might here. So what the witch couldn’t die, Emily had means to make the other suffer.

Just after she said her words she smelt something, it wasn’t living which depressed the young girl of two hundred and nineteen and made her face make an expression that wasn’t far off sly. With one eyebrow perched higher than the other and her mouth off to the side she waited to see what was coming her way. Maybe they had freshly drunken and she would kill them for their fresh blood. [/size][/blockquote]

[Tomas Keleb Martin]

Darkness enclosed the diminutive village like a blanket, obscuring the menace, the abnormality and the disease from those who are innocent. Similarly, the snow encrusted the streets, covering up the filth and grime. The relocation of the races was perceptibly a bandaid to the festering wound that the world had become. Of course the inhuman beings would cause the end of the world but like the darkness and snow, this community business would only conceal the problem. Tomas, as the Angelic ruler, knew this all too well.

The other leaders understood the dilemma as well, but knew that they were helpless to change everything. If the Propheess didn’t interfere then the Fallen wouldn't have been able to create so much demise. They wouldn't have been able to work their way inside the souls of those still living and consume their life force. It was not believed that the Race could commit such an act. However, by murdering the innocent, their loved ones were decaying. And as their King, Tomas was finding it difficult doing his duty.

The dreadful opinions tore into his psyche as he absently wandered through the novel city. There was little to do in this enclosed community. The inheritance were overwhelmed by panic and terror, therefore few left their dwellings. Therefore, Tomas strode through the crystal flakes, allowing them to coordinate with his hair, damp his white opened necked dress shirt. It clung to the bottom of his dark jeans and settled on the feathers of his open wings.

He was unable to retract the large limbs, for his blood contained no mortal impurities. Because of this uncomfortable trait, Tomas was forced to show his wings to his sister, who could not extend her own wings. It was, a strange phenomenon that stemmed from her history, one which she could not remember. Of course, she wasn't his real sister, just a girl he found as a young child and raised to become family.

Dragged down by his thoughts, he hadn't realized that he had somehow come into the warehouse district until he recognized a sensation devoid of senses. It was a sensation associated as Vampire, however this was simply different. The Angel understood and befriended many Vampires, unlike this one. The unrivalled hatred radiating off of it was almost overwhelming.

When his eyes finally caught sight of the darkness that contrasted with the white snow, he stopped, understanding why mortals were intrigued by her race.

[/color][/size]

[Emily Jones Patterson]

Writing to, Tomas - - With four hundred and thirty six words - -
Singing Mayday Parade

Seeing such a site as she saw then while the figure emerged from the falling sky Emily’s confused expression was unmoving. The pale figure of a man, with wings that majestically followed behind led her to think back to her childhood. She had heard lore as everyone had that angels existed; Emily after all was French, the country with the closest connection to religion in the world. She looked at the white figure wishing that it would go away, leaving her to rot in this human shell, but no it was here to mock her, torture her a little more. When she noticed that he was looking at her through the whiteness her expression turned into a grin. She wasn’t going to stand here to be ogled by some half-breed angel who thought that he was head honcho. ”do I have klaxons on my forehead or something? You look at me as if you are higher than I am… like I'm already burning in hell. You are no better than I am, a misfit in a world of screams. she said in a childish voice that of a sixteen year-old with a hint of French accent still remaining. She had never learned the word horns so she said the word in French.

Bored with having to look through the white to see the creature in front of her, she walked closer; there was nothing that this thing could do to her, nothing that she didn’t wish already happened. Standing only feet away she smiled a grin full of teeth, teeth stained by her morning coffee of blood and pain. She loved to kill, if it was not for sustenance she would still continue to kill just for the feeling she got from it. It was like vibrations running down her throat, the thick metallic taste that oozed down her and throughout her body while the bloodless corpse was thrown to the ground in a heap. She thought that she was good, a good person for killing people she was quickening the privilege they had which was taken from her.

”can you tell me where I am, this place is not familiar to me and I wish to get back to my meal that is rotting away on my minx rug.” she asked, although she was not being friendly to this angel like being she wanted desperately to know how to get home. She needed help from the gods, and this thing was the closest she could get to.

[/size][/blockquote]

[Tomas Keleb Martin]

]( [1]girl [ii]vampire )
Tomas tilted his head slightly, a gesture that Aymee mentioned resembled a confused puppy. However, innocence and ignorance had no hold on the Angel leader. It was believed by humans that the Angelic race was innocent and perfect, however none were considered such by the any of the Races. Travesty overwhelmed the world, creating decrepit Races and paces. The girl before him scrutinized him with something relative to garbage.

Tomas decided that the stare was unflattering, making him wish to see a look of something other than hatred on her lovely features. "No, [1] девочка, you have nothing on your face besides that interesting expression. And how you misjudge me. I don't think I am better than you, I know many [ii] вампир. As for the mistake of your last comment, we are not misfits. There are many of us all around the world. Most of us were killed, but this town still lives," he schooled, as if she were an ignorant child. He was not insinuating that he was superior; however, if she misjudged him so greatly, then she could feel inferior.

But as the girl approached, he realized that she probably hadn't been around many of her kind. She was obviously made by a rogue who was not concerned about her. She was probably abandoned to learn by herself. He could tell she was a little unusual, resembling a broken doll. She might like the kill, which he already assumed, but she believed herself evil and soulless. He was undecided about his intentions. He felt the need to both help her and laugh at her. However, a King never laughed at someone in distress.

He would also never allow the wicked murder. And that would surely be what she would do if she was left to her own devices. Instead, Tomas raised a white eyebrow and tisked at the girl before him. "How unfortunate you are, standing before me in some sort of twisted costume, speaking morbidly, insulting me and then asking for my help? Oh no, that's not how things work here,” he stated.

[/color][/size]

[Emily Jones Patterson]

Writing to, Tomas - - With four hundred and seventy two words - -
Singing Korn

Not understanding what the language the angel spoke Emily score a line through his previous sentence. By the tone of his remark the words that she deemed irrelevant were probably insults. Insults which she did not wish to listen to. Back in London, back in her city this would not be a granted audience. She would have taken off before one word was spoken, or she would have devoured his angelic blood without a second’s glance. Of course she knew nothing of what the angel’s blood would do to her, she had no time to listen to rumours, no time to listen to even the idea that angels existed. The consideration was still absurd that angel’s existed, but she thought that she would humour the creature –who was obviously confused- and stay a little longer, not killing him.

Were there many like he said? Were there many men walking around with wings on their backs? The vampire didn’t care about the town, how many freaks there were in the population, she just wanted to be back in her bed, fox heads wrapped around her naked form. It didn’t matter to her if she misjudged him, he was nothing to her, just one more stone that she would be walking by soon. She looked at him as he began to speak again, saying words that perked her interest. There was some fight in this being. ”I’m not in some twisted costume, this slippery piece of silk is worth more than your existence, and this is what I feed in. Watch what you say, Mr. Ange. Look at what your wearing and then get back to me on how I look.” she giggled. There was something good that shocked her body while she yelled, it was like a shock collar, and she loved it. Continuing to look at the man in front of her she smiled “How do we do things in this place then? Normally I say one thing and get results.”

This situation was bothering, so she decided that if she wasn’t going to get out of town she might as well sate her hunger by feeding on an entire family, with young children. ” Well Mr. Ange, you have pissed me off to capacity, so I'm off. I will tell the family that I brutally murder you send you love. It is your doing that they will all have to die, Espoir à Dieu je ne revois jamais votre visage, mais je dirai vous vois bientôt.” she finished fining the need to say the last bit of her words in French for added effect.

[/size][/blockquote]

Hope to God I never see your face again, but I will say see you soon.

[/size][/center]

[Tomas Keleb Martin]

(([iii]Ms. Vampire.))

Frigid air whipped through the sinister night, causing the snow to ballet along the earth, never halting or settling. A churning within the atmosphere was creating a amusing setting for the fascinating conversation. Hazard clouded the air, challenging the comfortable chill that had settled months past. Theoretically this Vampire was not the Angel king’s quandary. That delight belonged solely to the Vampire queen. This case, conveniently, there was not enough time to wait on the queen.

Tomas could not allow someone who could be a danger to roam free. It was his duty to contain her. Her threat seemed quite valid, fueling a spark of fear through the king. If she did indeed murder a family in the morose village he called home, the fault would rest solely on his head, atop his absent crown.

“You will do no such thing,” the king announced. He glided towards her, perceptive to the fact that his power would overpower hers. It seemed impossible that her years outnumbered his. Her dress was enough to show him of this. He would not underestimate her, though. It wouldn’t be to his advantage if he was surprised.

“[iii]Мисс. Вампир, you have worn my patience thin. For you to threaten a family in my village is unacceptable and you will be taken into my custody until the Vampire queen has time to deal with you. I would appreciate it if you came quietly and without much fuss. If that happens, you will not be distressed and will be given all the blood you require. If not, I might find it necessary to use force. That would not be good for you, child. One isn’t allowed to hurt the Angel leader. I might not be able to stop the guards that come to punish you,” Tomas spoke into the wind. His voice was even, his anger contained and dealt with.

Tomas moved towards her on Hermes’s shoes, his speed both an asset and a hindrance. Large hands gripped the girl’s wrists, holding them behind her in an uncomfortable position. He would not cause her unnecessary pain. The fair leader was not ruthless, but he was just.

[/color][/size]