Long red curls bounced in the flashing terror of the strobe lights, her slender body moving through the bodies- her pale form sliding and slipping between them- emerald eyes catching theirs if only for a moment. Her simple black halter clung to her body rather loosely, her small but curved frame young and lively beneath the dark glitter. Black stilettos made no sound as she searched. And for what?

Even Nikolaos didn't know this time. She had been growing colder and colder over the years. over the months. Everything just seemed to slip away- fall from her fingers like sand slipping- time wasting away.... But she'd be damned if she wasted with it.

She found herself retreating into the mass of mortals and vampires alike, the cold brush of skin that united her with one of her own kind.... The dance floor was a mixture of the frigid and the warm creating a strange blend of sensations as Nikki moved- danced- through them, her hands reaching to the sky- almost for help.

Almost. She was stubborn. She could take care of herself. All her friends had moved on from this place- from past memories. Why shouldn't she?

She was strong, gorgeous, old, and more than a catch. She was powerful and she was a vampiress above all. Why should she feel empty? Why should she feel bored? Maybe she just needed a change of pace, change of style. Change. Anything.

Anything that would make her blood rush again.

The room lay undisturbed. The various saws, drills, and other tools held no dust, yet they were as still and cold as the room was dark. No power flowed through the outlets that gave the subterranean metal shop life by night. The sewers did not smell at all pleasant, but it was what lay beneath the sewers of Demaitre that made the sewers themselves (and the city above) so very dangerous: the Tarepha. It was minutes after dusk had settled into nightfall and miles from her home, however, that the (relatively) young vampire made her blood-filled debut.

She had emerged from the sewers near an alley not too long ago; now she hung just above the mortal she intended to drain. There were more than one below the spot from which she gazed; her razor-sharp, dagger-shaped nails made the perfect grapples for the brick wall. The drug dealers left at last and the one that remained was the customer; he was broke now, and soon he would be flying. She waited.

Seconds ticked on. Minutes passed. It wasn't long before the stuff was gone. Finally, she dropped - and she struck. Her not-so-tender lady's left boot slammed into the mortal's drugged-up skull with the force of a Mack truck and sent him flying into the opposite wall of the alley that bordered the east side of the old town hall, the one that had been abandoned for what was now a discount clothing store. She was far from finished; she was pissed. As she came down, she pivoted on her left foot and sank her right knee into the man's groin. She threw him against the wall and hit him with several rapid-fire punches to the gut and chest. Then she threw him down the alleyway; he slid to a halt some fifty feet from the main street, but the vampire was already there. She picked up him up and threw him against the wall again. She sneered, practically snarling at him, her faces inches from his (if that) as he begged desperately for his life. But his life was over.

Damn near snapping his neck as she whipped his head to the side, she ignored his feeble protests and weak attempt to push her away as she ripped into the tender flesh of his now-exposed young throat. Twenty-some-odd years should have taught this idiot some manners, but he was just a druggie who needed a fix; no one would miss him. His blood was young and rich, filled with the rebellious desperation of the local drummer. He never should have stolen her car, no matter how desperate she was; not only had he stolen it, he'd stripped it and sold the parts to pay for his habit. She didn't have much in this modern society that she didn't work for; that old Buick, fully restored, had been her pride and joy. He was paying for his 'mistake' now.

The dumpster lid slammed shut. Ordinarily, she would've made it to the Sinister Puppet, her favorite (and Tarepha-typical) hotspot for getting down. But tonight, with the dismantling and resale of her car as a beltless assembly line of narcotic-producing steel, rubber, and plastic, she just wasn't in the fucking mood. It was ironic, really: her anger should've been the perfect match for the Sinister Puppet's dark genre, yet she needed something with a little more vibrancy tonight. That was why she headed into the club.

Her black denim skirt, tube top with Disturbed written from the right hip to the left breast, and the dark-blue denim vest she wore wonderfully constrasted the sapphire choker and earrings she wore almost constantly. Her boots made noise heard not even by the countless vampires she smelled in here, for the music and the overall noise were too much in abundance to allow for supernatural perception. Yet the nose didn't lie and Stacey knew that most of the people here were mortals; of the vampires that were here, most of them were older than her - much older - a fact there was no point in attempting to deny even to herself. So, she didn't bother. She simply pushed through the crowd of body-snatching, sweat-soaked, over-energized, boozed-up, sorry excuses for dancers on her way to the bar. She sat down and ordered a vodka on the rocks; time to see what this party was all about...

Nikolaos pulled herself from the crowd- closing her eyes and leaning against the wall of the club for a moment. What the hell was wrong with her? Vincent was gone and so was Bill. Yeah, gone. And why did that matter so much? She had never needed a man before....

So she didn't now. Nikolaos made her way towards the bar and told the bartender to surprise her. She waited.

her red curls fell over one emerald eye and she blinked twice. she did have to look for Mr. Right- if indeed Mr. Right hadn't died yet. Ha. it was laughable- thinking a vampire could find a partner. She had thought so before.

Hah. Wrong. So wrong...

(( :o A response! :D ))

Stacey had had her share of men in her vampirically short life span, but men were idiots; they drooled over a woman like cave dwellers over a piece of meat, they saw women as second-rate in most cases, and they cared more for sports and booze than for any kind of half-intelligent discussion using any more than one percent of their tiny brains. This, in short, brought her back to her original conclusion: men were stupid.

Granted, some men were actually decent; she just hadn't met any. When her drink came to her, she wasn't looking around the bar for men; she was looking for women. She was no lesbo, but she did prefer the company of women (being a woman herself, of course) and had no desire at present to spend her time in the company of oversexed drunks with an attitude problem.

Yeah, you could say she was in a bad fucking mood. Getting one's car stolen (or worse, as was the case tonight) tended to do that to her. She downed the vodka and ordered another immediately, figuring she'd start sipping when it started kicking in.

Nikolaos wasn't quite sure what she was served by the bartender but it burned as it went down. Maybe she should have sipped it first? Nikki shook her head as the burning subsided.
"Wow...." laughter escaped her throat. "That's definitely what I'd like. Another one please?" she requested. Vampires didn't get drunk easily. Nikki had tested the theory many a time- since she'd come to Canada. Before.... well, before she really hadn't done much of anything. She was too shy and too worried about running from him. And too distracted by Vincent to notice the liquid that so many sorrows were drowned in.

Then she only had a few sorrows. Now it just seemed like they kept piling up. She was in desperate need of a friend- a companion- anyone to simply talk to every now and then. Just an ear- whether they gave a damn or not- Nikki just longed to be social.

Another mystery drink later- Nikolaos pursed her lips and smirked at the bartender. "Maybe one more....."

By the time the other vampire had finished her second drink, though, Stace was on her fourth. The bartender was smart enough now to have lined up about a half-dozen of them (at her request, of course). She started drinking them normally after four shots, but she still wasn't sipping them. She'd leave the sipping to someone who didn't feel like they were about to rip someone's arm off - which, unfortunately, she could do quite easily. But she wasn't about to get in trouble with the Amman; she fully understood the need for secrecy, especially for someone as young as her - and she was young at only a couple of centuries of life.

There were a number of other people just like her at the tavern, it seemed: they were all looking for something. Some of them were looking for something to kill; others were looking for someone to sleep. Still others were just looking for some alone time or, conversely, some company. There were only three vampires at the long bar, though, and only one of them was feeding; when the bartender went over to say something about the supposed necking, he quickly turned away - apparently at the comment of the vampire he'd been about to foolishly chastise. No one else seemed to notice anything.

Realizing that she'd downed five of her six drinks already, she figured she'd better stop before she became internally flammable (if she wasn't already). She pushed the damned glasses away and took up her first sipper of the night, though it was actually her tenth drink. The bartender was about to say something to her, but she didn't need any kind of vampiric hypnosis to get him to turn away; one glare was far more than enough. He turned away from her so quickly it was as though he'd been riding a top all his life; he knew better than to speak to a pissed-off woman.

Nikki glanced over at the feeding vampire and couldn't help but roll her eyes. How tasteless. necking at a bar. By God, her hunting habits were far more interesting and pleasurable. But he was younger- so it didn't come as a shock. Young ones always seemed to be so stupid. Granted she was no ancient herself but she was old enough.
she lived for the chase- the thrill- the very fear that humans had just before she bit. She lived for passion, seduction and witty jokes that they never quite understood. She lived for this life. She lived to be a vampire.

A parasite.

Nikki shrugged and turned away to notice a woman down the ways. She had been drinking a lot. Nikki was quite sure the bartender had tried to cut her off but then again- she wasn't.
She wasn't really one for socializing, yet she wasn't one for moping. She was a fucking vampiress- dammit- a demon of the night and she was gonna let a couple assholes ruin her ego? Hell no!

"I'm Nikki. Hi." she said, after she had stood up and slinked her way towards the other female vampiress, her cool presence a frigid contrast to the heated warmth of the majority of the room.