His boots, they thud dully, and though the sound cannot be heard by normal ears over the noise of this place, Daemion is fully aware of the sound. Eyes of deep green pierce through the darkness, for, this place wasn't well lighted. Hence, the name, Dark. And if this man turned his head a certain way, one might just catch a glimpse of that sheen in his eyes. That glimmer, that spark of light being reflected, it was so animalistic in it's own way. Like ... well a dog's actually, which is what Daemion was, mostly.

Unseen by human eyes, Daemion's ears twitched at the music. He didn't get the point of it, and sometimes it would hurt his ears, being as sensitive as they were. Agile, he moved past the those silly creatures and their 'dancing' and was quickly at the bar. Alcohol ... it was the only thing that Daemion had, so far, found that humans got right. Everything else about the whole species was simply ... annoying. He dispised the lot of them. Humans were such boring things, and they were just so easily to hurt; to kill, if only by accident.

Tonight, he was wearing his typical black, stolen from an army-surplus store boots. The laces were frayed at the edges and were bright orange, an odd (or maybe not so odd) contrast to the black. The pants Daemion wore tonight were black as well, and held by a webbed-belt that hung loose about his waist. His shirt was a forest green, the kind that buttons down the front. However the shirt was mostly left unbuttoned; leaving his chest exposed. Daemion didn't like the restrictions he felt across his chest when wearing such clothing. And he didn't know or care if people found the way his clothes were worn as 'acceptable'.
And, as always, Daemion had that set of three, steel collars tight around his neck.

Dispite his being only vaugely familiar with the kind of things these humans wore nowdays, Daemion was doing a pretty good job of dressing like them. Daemion had always been an observant sort. Which is why he quickly noticed the presence of someone else beside him.

'I'll have a White Russian.'

The voice came from a woman who came and stood leaning slightly on the bar. Violet eyes set on the swarm of dancers. Her attention was only pulled back when she heard the soft clink of glass on glass. She smiled and took a drink, tilting her head back slightly. Long locks of auburn fell over her bare shoulders provided a better veiw of her corset. Black pinstriped with a fringe of lace, the short skirt looked this way as well. Her legs were slender, set apart wide ending in black pumps. Normally she hated wearing a skirt and pumps ... but if she was clubbing she couldn't wear pants and boots.

The drink felt cool with the overwelming heat. Her pulse now seemed in rythme with the beat of the chaotic music. She closed her eyes and set the glass down shaking her head slightly.

Then for the first time she looked up to see who else was at the bar. She smiled lightly, it brought dawn to her dark face.

At the voice, Daemion shifted his gaze to the side; without turning his head in the direction. He allowed himself to take in the woman's appearance, then shifted his gaze back in front of him. His drink, he couldn't remember what it was, had been given to him soon enough. His fingers curled lightly around the glass and he raised it. Unconciosly, he sniffed, and quickly downed the amber substance. It was good enough, he guessed, though he never expected much out of humans in the first place.

With a snap of his fingers, he gained the tenders attention and bought himself another drink. As he waited, his gaze shifted sideways again, looking over the woman beside him. It was for no particular reason that he was watching her. Simply boredom, he supposed.

Her eyes fell on the male and she looked down once more to her drink. He was watching her, a understandable yet irritating action. He wasn't like the others, she could practicly taste it in the air that hung around them. When it came to people hiding stuff in front of her the masquerade never lasted. She finished off her drink and gave the empty glass to the bar tender before looking into the mirror across the bar. 'You know ...' she said softly low enough so that he could hear. Her violet eyes watched him glimmering wickedly in the dancing light. 'Perhaps you should take a picture instead of trying so hard to make your staring less obvious ... it would save you some time.'

She turned her head now towards him and gave him a wink. Witty little remarks were always her thing, if it didn't bring the quiet out into the open ... then she would usually move on to something else. 'My name is Hawthorne ... and you are?'

Actually, Daemion had failed to notice the mirror across the bar. And Daemion ... well, he watched everyone; regardless of appearance or gender. He wasn't well versed in the ways of dealing with people. Spending most of your life as canine could do that to you.

Daemion simply gave a shrug the comment of taking a picture. "I don't like cameras." He'd picked up his next drink as soon as it had arrived, though didn't drink from it just yet. At the question, he turned just slightly. "Name ... 'S Daemion."

Hawthorne nodded. A slight bob of her fair head and she took a step towards him, lowering her voice to a whisper. 'Not meaning to be rude mon cher, but you seem different from the others ...' Her violet eyes watched him intent on ripping apart the little puzzle. 'I bet you think me as one of them don't you? Rather insulting but I cannot blame you ... I spent my whole life with them ... I wouldn't be surprised if a few nasty little traits rubbed off on me.'

She was far too interested to pull back on the words. Smiling she sat on a barstool and crossed her legs.

Daemion leaned back in his own chair, somewhat. Yes, he was different, much different than anyone else here. As far as he knew, Daemion was the only one of his own kind. Created by magic, as he was, he could sense it. In the air surrounding, in the people he'd walked past in making his way here.

"Different ... that I am." Some thought Daemion spoke, kind of weird. He mixed words and tenses together sometimes, and his voice always seemed sort of tinged with a growl. It wasn't like he tried to sound like some feral dog, Daemion had always just had a voice like that.

At her comment, the one about being insulted if thought of as human, Daemion looked as if he were considering something. He then shook his head, just slightly. "No ... Your scent, it is different from their's." He turned away again, and took to sipping his drink as if his own comment was something heard in ordinary conversation.

A brow quirked and she looked around. 'My scent seemed different ...' she echoed softly. He seemed bored with her, nothing new, but still agrivating. Her fingertips tapped at the glass counter top and she sighed softly.

(blegh I honestly can't think of anything else to say, I dun wanna bore you. Do you have any ideas?)

*Gah! Sorry it took so long to reply. I've had ... stuff going on. No computer time. ... Anyways, uh ... You char might could leave and Daemion would definately stalk her. Other than that ... I can't really think of anything ><*


Daemion gave the slightest of nods. "It is hard to explain. But yes. I could even tell what someone is jsut by there scent." He raised a hand just slightly, sort of pointing to a random guy sitting at the far end of the bar. "Like, I passed by him eariler. He smells like a wolf. Meaning he's a were." His hand moved again, pointing to another woman who was standing near the door. "She smells like ... something kinda burnt. ... Pyro."

Hawthorne quirked a brow looking at the people he pointed out. 'Hmmm ... hope you don't run across someone who doesn't believe in good hygiene.' She gave a smile at the thought as she looked to him. 'Make's me kinda wander what fae's smell of ...' Her attention vanished as she turned her head slightly to look at a man standing at the entrance. She straightened and started to turn before she paused to look at him.

'I hope I can see you again.' She winked and started her way across the dance floor towards the entrance. The man that stood at the door shifted, his eyes were violet like hers but displayed a bit more red, and his hair was cut to ear and spiked. He handed Hawthorne her coat holding something out of view beneathe it.

*Again, sorry for lateness. Something came up ... again.*

If Daemion had a sense of humour, he might have laughed at the 'hygiene' comment. However, humour was something he was without, so he just gave an indifferent shrug instead. His head inclined to the left, just slightly, at the comment of what fae smelled of. It was somewhat hard to explain. The scent was, Daemion didn't know. More earthy he guessed. Not that it would make any sense for him to say so. He didn't say anything else to the woman. Until she stood to leave. Giving another bored shrug, Daemion looked back to his drink. "Hm. Perhaps."

Shifting his gaze to the mirror, Daemion watched the woman and the man she seemed to be leaving with. Raising a brow curiously at noticing something being hidden from view. Daemion finished his drink, and waited for the woman to actually leave. Maybe, he would follow her. Daemion liked to follow people, the interesting ones anyways.

With a abrupt shove the man had the entrance door opened. Hawthorne followed him out into the silence of the evening and looked up to him in question. 'Twls what's going on?' Her voice was oddly calm, the fact that he had just placed a gun in her possession did nothing to change it. She hadn't taken it from it's hiding place yet knowing far better what would happen if it was to be seen. 'Twls?' Returning her attention to him she saw the anger that wove his expression. His usually soft lips were tight and his gaze was set on the path ahead. His only answer was: 'She was hurt.'

Hawthorne stopped. 'You honestly expect me to know who the hell your talking about?'

Twls had been walking still but at her question he looked to her. 'You should ... but for the sake that I want this done and over ... her name is Astyoch.' Hawthorne laughed, it didn't help the rising anger but it displayed her thoughts on this woman. 'Could have just said I needed help ... now that she's in the matter ...' She shook her head. 'No ... I won't.' Twls started towards her and taking only a couple steps in retreat she took the Derringer from under her coat and aimed between the eyes.

In the softest voice she could summon she gave him her reply. 'I won't do it Twls ... don't try and make me.'

Daemion was still watching the two, by way of the mirror. He cursed to himself. If the music hadn't been so loud then he might have been able to hear any conversation that might have went on. He aimlessly rolled his glass back and forth along the bar. He raised a brow, at seeing the man lead the girl outside. Daemion tapped the glass on the bar, in thought. He couldn't follow, not when she was walking with someone else. That wasn't any fun. Because, people always got in the way. However ... she was interesting. And Daemion was curious as to what the man had given the woman. Hmmm....

Daemion stood, and made his way to one of the back doors. If he could make his way through the alley and around the building then... Nevermind forget that. He decided to go for a more direct approach, so to speak. He pushed past the large group of people. He was somehow graceful, like a cat almost, even when he did push people off to the side. He wasn't in a hurry or anything, just didn't like people being close to him. Once he was at the door, brushed himself off. A moment later he walked out, and shook himself.

Looking around Daemion's gaze fell on the woman and the other man, they weren't too far off. Twitching an ear just slightly (though none could see the action), he caught snippits of the conversation. Yes, this definetly was curious. It was slightly chilly, so Daemion buttoned his shirt the rest of the way. Hands in his pockets he started walking, acting as if he didn't notice the two even though he was heading in their direction. After a few silent steps he realized how suspicious it was that he walked so quitely. Daemion allowed his feet to fall heavier, his boots thud with each step. Casual gait, and no one would be able to tell Daemion's real intentions at the moment.

Twls sighed combing his fingers through his hair before looking over her shoulder. Violet eyes glimmered angrilly before returning to look upon her. 'I realize your feelings towards her ... but this affects us all. Think about that.'

Without recieving a reply he turned walking into the alley they stood before. Knowing no mortal eye was watching he released his Glamour finding his escape in his wings. Her eyes closed at the relief that he was gone. The soft breeze left from the movement of his wings combed a few strands of her auburn locks back from her face. Hawthorne sighed into the night as she looked down to the gun in her hand. It was fully loaded, a mere two bullets, the chances were slim when it came to getting your target from a good distance. Twls was an idiot when it came to automatic weapons.

Taking a glance over her shoulder she thought about what Twls requested. If she did do it she would have to demolish what pride she had becoming the eternal lap dog for one of the Fae's most respected ... if she didn't she would be hated by all Fae kind. Hmmm ... Choices. She snarled taking the bullets from the gun before throwing it into the alley.

(where do you want to take this?)

*Heh. I have no idea.*


Daemion had stopped walking, and listened to the conversation with mild interest. He didn't really care what it was all about. The only reason he was following was pure volume. He had nothing to do. Sure, he could shift to that dog and go hunt or something. But that wasn't much fun, not in the city anyways. His head had tilted to the side, watching the woman discard ... something.

* Feh. -Dies- Shortness.*