It was cooler out tonight, Autumn was making it's presence felt. Jayme walked along the beach, he had a lot on his mind, and there were fewer distracions from thinking here. Of coarse his thoughts jump around a lot. There are thoughts, of the shop, the rentals, Jenny, his friends, the steak dinner he'd eaten, but mostly his thoughts are filled with Erik. At least he doesn't cry after vistiing Erik any more at first he had....only recently had that stopped. Erik wasn't wholly shattered now, just broken.

Jayme zipped up his windbreaker as he grew a bit colder,. telling himself it was just the ocean breezes at night making him chilly. As an alchemist he should know better than to ignore that small part of him trying to tell him it's not.

He moves along the rocks near the jetty, lugg soled workboots, blue jeans, a plain grey flannel work shirt and his navy blue windbreaker seem to be keeping him from being too cold in the sea mist.

The sea mist had wetting his paper, making it nearly impossible to press the wax color against the soggy paper without tearing the sheet. But he'd not wanted to leave, not yet. He'd only just discovered the Ocean recently again, two hundred and fifty years without seeing it. He'd crossed it once in his life, but he'd been sealed in a box, a coffin, when he'd crossed.

So he'd found a solution by moving his box of crayons and his coloring book there where he was mostly sheilded from the spray by one of the boats. It might be very strange to see someone dressed like he is, in slacks that ride high on the stomach, a white shirt tucked into the dark pants. The shirt was big, flowy, the sleeves big, fastened at the wrists by hooks. There is not lace on the shirt, it's a parchment material rather then his usual slik or satin, and the collar is flat and triangle, opening to half ways down his torso. His hair has been blown from it's holder, shoulder length and straight, baby fine. He's a pretty picture really, stretched out on the dock on his stomach, coloring. He's short and underweight for todays teens at five feet two and only ninty-eight pounds.

His eyes turn up to the sound of footsteps and he's watching you Jayme, that intent gaze heavy.

Jayme is actually so absorbed in his own thoughts he's oblivious to another presence. He makes his way among the rocks rather deftly. He's in excellent shape and it shows as he moves among the rocky outcroppings here. He moves like the athlete he once was. Hard to believe this man runs a flower sho a block off Elm Street.

He makes his way down to where the rocky expanse of beach ends. It takes him about twenty minutes. Feeling a bit tired there, he turns back. His range rover is the other way. So he goes back the way he came. He still winds through the rocks with grace, but he moves more slowly this time from feeling tired.

Kilean stands up at this point, his heavy gaze never leaving the other. As he stands, the wind catches his hair again and blows it around his shoulders, whipping his face harshly. He could have passed for nineteen in his own time. Here he could pass for twelve. He bends to retreive his pressious coloring book and crayons and, folding the book in half and carrying both book and box in one hand, he walks the edge of the dock, balancing along, arms out either way as if for balance. He doesn't need that, he has perfectly fine balance.

He approached the other then, hopping off of the edge of the dock and onto a rock. "Mister, have you seen my mother?" He's not seen his mother for three hundred and more years. "I think I've gotten lost." He looks tweleve, his voice betrays he's probably a little older, fifteen, sixteen at most. His accent is british, implying perhapes he's only in Bayfield on vaccation.

"I've not seen anyone at all." Jayme answers sounding rather perplexed. HE's been rather selfabsorbed. He scans the beach." Any idea when and where exactly you last saw her? I can help you look if you like." Jayme offers. He does not find it strange that the boy has approached him, while some adults find Jayme's size intimidating, children have always seemed to be able to sense the gentleness in him.

To him this seems no different than the usual trusting childhood confidences he seems to earn at random, in spite of the nagging voice on the fringesof his awareness. He really should know better than to ignore that voice.

"No." That nagging voice might warn him about other things but doesn't Jayme notice those clothing? How out of date are those anyways? Kilean reaches up to push back hair from his face and all that happens is the wind snatches it to blow it around some more. His skin is pale. "Last time I saw her was in England." So very truthful. At the airport? No. BUt he didn't say the last time he'd seen her was yesterday in England. Just in England, which was ture.

He had noticed the clothing, but look at how diversly kids dress these days. "Well then I'm sure I haven't seen her, anytime recently." This is begining to feel strangely unsettling to him. "How the devil do you happen to be looking for your mother here then?" he blurts out. It isn't quite what he means to ask, but close enough.

"I am the devil."

That's it. He just doesn't answer the question. It makes sense that, were they to be getting on the plane, she missed it and he didn't. And as a kid, he'd left the airport and come here, and as a child possibly he'd expected his mother to know exactly where he'd gone to wait for her. But that's not the case. He doesn't even offer that scinerio.

Instead, he's just taken a few steps closer to the tiring man. As he moved forward, it seemed he was getting taller. Nothing like the way Morose seems to be taller, Kilean can't do that, he's not got that ability. But he can levetate, and it's what he's doing. It looks, as he advances, as if he's climbing steps, becoming Jayme's height.

Here it is the sinking feeling of doom in the pit of Jayme's stomach, child-predator-monster things that come for you when you're unwary. Look at what happened to Len, and Thorn. Jayme really should know better indeed. One day the intelligent citezens of Bayfield will learn to flee unattanded children.

He swears softly, "Shit." and tries to get away form this creepiness.

Kilean laughed and slipped his arms around Jayme's neck, like an innocent child would, holding on and smileing, looking into his eyes. When he smiled, his fangs flashed, because he doesn't know how to hide them. He's three hundred and fifty, a little less, but he was in a sealed coffin for more then two hundred of those years. Technically he's only got a hundred years of experiance. He's still considered very young.

"What's the matter? You look suprised."

His fingers dig into the back of Jayme's neck.

"Surprised, nothing should surprise me in this city. Get off me!" Jayme snaps in irritation as he tries to shake free of the litle devil's fingers.

"Not suprised?" He seemed to pout. But his fingers remained relentless. And maybe you'll notice, he doesn't budge. While he's levitating, it seems the air holds him in place, he can't be pushed. He dug his fingers deeped against Jayme's attempt to get free. "That's a pitty. You certinly seemed suprised."

"Cursed thing, let me be!" Jayme says loudly and much more angrily. This is very vexing to him. He isn't a violent man, so he'd really like to simply get away. He is however starting to get angry.

Kilean laughed. It's just the laugh of a teenage boy that you know must be much more then sixteen. That's it. Nothing too extremly frightening about it except that it's forboding and cold. His fingers dug deeper still. He was not going to let go.

"Why don't you throw a pinch of salt at me and hold up a cross while your at it?" What Jayme said, it sounded so very close to what the people of his time shouted at witches and vampires and ghouls. And it never worked. Mockery. Poor Jayme.

"Don't moch me, bad enough you've singled me out like some first prize trick pony you little malevolent imp." Jayme snarls, very frustrated at his inabilty to escape the situation. The angrier he gets the more marked his Scottish accent becomes, it must sound strange coupled with that deep south drawl he has.

first prize trick pony you little malevolent imp

He chuckled again at the 'first prize trick pony' because basically that's what he's done. Singled Jayme out, granted there was no one else around to single him out from, but he had picked Jayme. Relax Jayme, he's already fed once tonight. That means the kill is already done. Now he just wants to play. Maybe the kid at heart never really does go away.

"Imp? No no no." He grinned wider with the scottish accent stirring and mingling with his british. "Not an imp, a vam-pi-er. Say it."

"Oh I know what you are." Jayme says darkly and in irritable tones. His face is flushed with anger. He isn't in the mood to indulge the vampire's whims so he does not comply. Let's see what being stubborn get the poor man.

A fingernail through the skin. Ten fingernails actually. Note that Kilean's nails are, as most vampires, hard as stone and sharp as glass, not to mention he files them to nice, knife like points. He breaks the skin with all his nails, little puncture wounds, very little blood, but he can smell it over the sea salt.

Then he drags his fingernails downward, ripping the back of Jayme's shirt as he goes.

Jayme grunts but refuses to give the satisfaction of a pithy verbal response at this time. He has his dignity, for the moment anyway. Clothes hecan replace, wounds his friend Josh(Best known as Gunn) can heal, it's what is to come that worries him.

Kilean scowled, the smoothness of his forhead wrinkling into the scrunch, just slightly. This was not pleasing at all. He tore the shirt further and then pulled it from the man's frame entirely. He sealed his lips over Jayme's, then slipped his fangs into the man's lower lip. Bleed. Bleed asshole. His finger's scratched at the man's back still and he licked at the wound in Jayme's lip that he'd made.

Jayme does struggle at having his lip gnawed on. He even tries to land a few punches.

Jayme might find he does land the punches, and the vampire ignors them as if it were a two year old hitting an adult. He didn't try to avoid the blows, he simply ignored them and continued to lick at the little blood trailing from the lip. The smell was exhilerating. And then Kilean was gone. He let go of him and he was gone. Not really though.

After a few seconds, a tongue ran along the wounds in Jayme's back.

When it rains it pours. Jayme isn't having very nice evening. What's worse there seems to be next to nothing he can do about it, right now anyway. Woudn't it be his luck to find a vampire that wants to poke him full of little holes and lick him rather than going for the throat.

That's Kilean for you. Play with your food, then leave it alive so you can hunt it down some other time. It's always funner the second time they see you, they panic more. The first time, they weren't sure what was going to happen, the second time they know who you are.

Kilean didn't just poke holes though. He poked in h....nevermind. You get it.

Kilean pulled on the waistband of Jayme's pants to pop the button.

Though it does him no good, Jayme slaps the vampire when he pops the button.

Kilean smiled again. It seems he actually enjoys Jayme's hitting. Of course, he likes pain.

Kilean pulled the zipper apart rather then fumbling to figure out how to undo it, because he still hasn't actually taken the time to examine zippers and try to understand that you just pull a little tag down and the zipper would open. He still wore the pants that were all buttons. Down went Jayme's pants. Kilean licked at the wounds again.

"Wanna play?" It means fight back harder. Jayme doesn't seem to be putting in much effort and Kilean doesn't like it.

"Play, what the hell are you talking abiout, I'd hardly call you a playmate." Jayme snarls, his accent still very evident. He's furious. HE does fight quite a bit more at being very near to naked. This whole situation is really begining to piss him off.

Yes Jayme, play, you're being toyed with.

Yes, toyed with. If those are the appropriate words for this. Nearly naked? Now he's naked. Well, unless you consider shirtless with everything else pulled around your ankles not naked. Kilean pushed him forward and crawled over him. He reached up and grabbed one of Jayme's arms, holding it down to hamper his fighting. He began to untuck his own shirt and then tried to trap the other hand under the first in order to hold both of his hands down.

It's not naked till you're barefoot too.......

Having both hands held only makes Jayme use his legs. He repeated ly knees the vampire in the ribs, though it is an awkward movement and he is tiring quickly.

"Mmm. You just don't stop do you." It wasn't a question. He's got his hands pinned down now and he's almost naked, besides the bare feet. Kilean pulled his shirt free and began to unfasten his pants. As his fingers work at the buttons, he twists Jayme's hands, then uses one knee to roll the larger man onto his stomach. None of this would be possible without vampiric strength. Especially considering Kilean's size.

He climbs up Jayme, settling onto his back where he comfortably holds his hands down. Without the least bit of gentlness, without fogging Jayme's mind to sensor the pain of the bite, he presses his sharp fangs through the back of Jayme's neck, just left of the back none, not over the jugular but where he punctures it at an angle. And he begins to feed.

"Rat Bastard!" Jayme swears weakly.

He drew away his lips for a moment. Poor Jayme. Feel that? Ah the maricle of blood pressure in the lower regions. "No. More like vampire bastard." Chucking softly, he licked away blood from his lips and lowered himself against the man while pressing his lips back to the wound.

Curtian soon?

"Rat, emphasis on rat, not even a real hunter, are you? Rat bastard....." The words though weak are still angry. The last means Jayme has of lashing out.....and so he uses them.

(Curtain might be in order yes)

Kilean didn't reply when he racked his nails down the other's back, draging them clear down over Jayme's butt and the back of his thighs as he pressed into the other and licked blood from the freshly made wounds.

~Curtian~

Kilean had not been kind. At all. Granted he'd caused that kid Lucifer more pain because he was smaller then this one, but he'd enjoyed himself enough. He fastened his pants and tucked his shirt in, picked up his precious book and crayons, then rolled Jayme over with his boot.

"Night night sunshine," he said in a sing song tone.

Jayme who could barely move just blurted. "Fucker." after the vampire.

When the brat was gone Jayme fumbled to pull his pants up and pulled out his cell phone....He hoped Josh wasn't asleep.

(so no one dies wondering of course Josh/Gunn comes and gets him)