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491 Years of Age ☨

Vampire ☨

Alignment: Neutral ☨

 

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Alexander's origin traces back to his human birth in the Czech Republic, a life drastically altered when he was transformed into his current supernatural form. Unlike traditional vampires, Alexander possesses a unique array of abilities typically associated with purebloods. Following his transformation, his sire initiated a process of conditioning by offering her blood, molding him into what he has become today.

Before his transformation, Alexander was a skilled hunter of the supernatural, motivated primarily by financial gain and fueled by his own inflated ego. However, it was the collective arrogance of their three-man team that led them into a fatal encounter with a den of vampires, resulting in their slaughter. In a twist of fate, Alexander's life was spared by a Pureblood Vampiress under the condition of servitude to her coven.

Relieved to be freed from his previous responsibilities, Alexander embraced his new role within the coven, honing his abilities and becoming a formidable warrior. He defended his coven fiercely, often serving as their primary enforcer and protector. Despite his former life as a hunter, Alexander found a sense of purpose and belonging within the coven's ranks.

However, a chance encounter with a lone huntress sparked a clandestine bond between them, threatening to expose Alexander's newfound loyalty. Recognizing the danger their relationship posed, Alexander resorted to using his magical abilities to play mind games on his lover, tricking her into believing she witnessed his demise. Unaware of the depth of his lover's abilities and the betrayal she would ultimately feel, Alexander's actions set in motion a chain of events that eventually led him to become a stray.

When his coven discovered his disloyalty, Alexander was forced to turn against them to protect his unconscious lover, leading to his estrangement from both his coven and his former life. Believed to be dead by his lover, Alexander now wanders as a solitary figure, haunted by the consequences of his past choices.

 

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  Charming  Highly-Educated  Twistedly Playful in Battle Serious  Collected  Secretly a Softy  Protective to Few  Late Sleeper For Obvious Reasons  Possible Monster  Loyal 

Alexander bears the hallmark features of a vampire, with pale skin possessing only a hint of color. His eyes, typically an amber hue, flare into a crimson blaze under various circumstances—when hungry, angry, injured, feeding, or experiencing other intense emotions. Unlike some vampires, his fangs do not prominently protrude, allowing him to pass as human at a casual glance.

Despite his solitary nature, Alexander holds deep loyalty towards those he deems worthy. However, his self-reliance over the years has made him accustomed to relying solely on himself. Highly educated and possessing a strategic mind, he often deliberates before taking action, typically staying one step ahead in battle.

A skilled negotiator, Alexander is adept at making deals, although his loyalty extends beyond immediate gains. He values long-term relationships and reciprocity, seeking to establish mutually beneficial arrangements. While he has made deals for various reasons, his most common motive is for blood, particularly favoring that of Fae, Sirens, and Pureblood Vampires.

Despite his preference for Pureblood Vampire blood, Alexander keeps this inclination hidden due to its taboo nature in his home country. Uncertain of how other covens would react, he maintains secrecy regarding his consumption of Pureblood Vampire plasma, even as he relocates to the United States.

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Single  Muses: x1  Heterosexual 

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Alexander's romantic history is rich, having been a lover to many in his past. However, his last relationship came at a high cost, resulting in his estrangement from his coven. Despite the sacrifice he made to ensure his lover's survival, he hasn't actively pursued any relationships since. While he remains open to the possibility of companionship, he finds himself still haunted by memories of his past lover.

Although Alexander acknowledges the potential for love to unexpectedly enter his life, he is not actively seeking it. He recognizes the complexities of romantic entanglements and the lingering impact of his past experiences. While part of him may yearn for connection, another part understands the necessity of maintaining distance, believing his past lover to be better off without him.

Though not actively searching, Alexander remains open to the unpredictable nature of love, aware that it has a tendency to find its way into even the most unexpected of circumstances.

 

Valkyrie:

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Once the love of Alexander's life, Valkyrie's relationship with him was severed by his manipulative mind games years ago. Faced with the threat to her safety, Alexander orchestrated his own apparent demise, leading Valkyrie to believe he was dead. Though this decision shattered any semblance of affection a vampire may possess, it was deemed necessary for the vulnerable huntress's well-being.

For years, they remained apart, Valkyrie unaware of Alexander's continued existence. However, fate has brought them back together, albeit under changed circumstances. Valkyrie now holds the title of the King of the Void, a position of immense power that surpasses Alexander's own capabilities. However, Alexander remains unaware of Valkyrie's ascent to power and the true nature of her intentions.

Driven by an insatiable hunger for power, Valkyrie has taken to manipulating Alexander by offering him her blood, unknowingly poisoning him and cementing her control over him. Despite her facade of strength and authority, Alexander remains ensnared by his longing for her, oblivious to the perilous hold she has over him.

Their reunion has taken a sinister turn, as Valkyrie's seemingly benevolent gestures of feeding Alexander her blood serve to further her own ambitions, leaving him unaware of the impending danger lurking beneath her facade. Music(Explicit) Music

 

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10242687075?profile=RESIZE_400xAlexander possesses a unique set of abilities that distinguish him from typical vampires. Unlike the brute force often associated with his kind, Alexander relies primarily on his mental prowess, honing skills that surpass conventional beliefs. His consumption of Pureblood Vampire's plasma since being sired is believed to have enhanced his abilities beyond normal vampire capabilities.

Iron will:  "Dance puppets dance." With a mere thought, Alexander can impose his will upon living beings, ranging from people to animals and even plants. This skill allows him to manipulate and control others as he sees fit. As long as it lives, it is susceptible. 

Dream manipulation: "Did you have a bad dream?" Alexander can infiltrate the dreams of others while they sleep and induce a deep slumber with a mere glance. Within this dream-like state, he can inflict both pain and pleasure upon his victims.

Speed Glyphs: "Just try to keep up." Alexander can inscribe speed glyphs at various locations, granting himself and others enhanced speed and agility upon activation. While these glyphs offer strategic advantages, they have a limited duration and require energy to maintain.

Lucid Dreaming: "Miss me?" By entering a sleep-like state, Alexander can project his consciousness elsewhere, allowing him to travel or engage in actions remotely. This ability enables him to interact with others and inflict harm while in this projected state.

Passives: Immunity to Mind Control  | Immunity to Mind Reading. | Superhuman strength | Superhuman Speed/Reflexes | Ability to Sire someone | Resistance to Sunlight

Weaknesses:  Poisons diminish his regeneration and cannot be cured without feeding. | Severe injuries impede his healing process, requiring sustenance to facilitate recovery. | Sunlight accelerates his energy drain, necessitating increased feeding to offset the drain. | The few individuals he cares for serve as potential vulnerabilities.

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Alexander cannot sustain himself on other vampires' blood unless they are purebloods.

He utilized his mind manipulation abilities on his ex-lover to stage his own death.

Despite his formidable abilities, Alexander lacks the skill to operate a vehicle.

While Alexander possesses the ability to sire other vampires, he has yet to exercise this capability.

Within a coven setting, Alexander is recognized as the Warrior or Hitman, often found at the forefront defending his clan's weaker members.

Alexander dislikes having his name abbreviated or shortened, preferring to be addressed by his full name.

Although he can consume human food, it provides no sustenance or benefit to him.

Ingesting the plasma of a pureblood vampire temporarily empowers Alexander.

Despite his guarded nature, Alexander has been known to risk his own safety for individuals he has only recently encountered.

 

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 Hello all, my name's Derek. I've been writing for about 10 years now. This is still oddly new to me. I've never played a Vampire before. As much as I try to branch out, it never seems to work. But, we're here, so let's do this.

- Plotting is a must before writing with me. 

- I'm fine with OOC chatting.

- Rarely will smut occur, if it does please inbox. I don't want that junk on my profile. 

- I don't reply quickly - most of the time. It's just how I am. 

-I can't and won't write with one-liners. I'm not asking for a book, but I need something in order to give something. 

- Want to be a Vampire? Ask. Let's make it happen.

- Have a really crazy plot? Ask. I don't think I've ever said no to any plot before. Probably the reason my characters become so complex.

- We should all know the basic rules of Rping/Writing therefore the only thing I ask for is Respect and tolerance for my slow replies. 

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Credits

Character design was an NPC from Valkyrie, though I've made him my own with my own twists.

All headers are from Flaming Text

Face Claim - Miles McMillian

Alexander is voiced by - UC.

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Warnings

Character may have a bad attitude. This is not me it's my character. If I didn't like ya..... I'd just tell ya.

Possible Smut - Minimal if any

Blood/Gore - This is the Main one. 

I will not change my writing because you don't like these, sorry.

I am open to new roleplay threads

Threads are Selective/Open


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  • Threads Are Possibly Full

    - Legacy (replied)

    - Valkyrie (replied)

    - Nascha (replied)

    - Neseva (plotting)

  • If she noticed his annoyance with her teasing, or more likely her continued presence then Nascha didn't show it. Her expression remaining entirely placid as she continued to trail after him. When she'd snuck into that fancy ballroom and tried to act as if she belonged there she could honestly say this was not how she'd expected events to unfold either. But here they were.

    Pushing that thought away, she forced herself to focus upon his scent, brow furrowing at the heady mix of decay and...was that a trace note of blood? She was almost certain she could smell that metallic scent. Intrigued, she tilted her head. Clearing her throat as if to gain his attention. "Why did you say we were supposed to hate each other?" She uttered the question in a quiet tone, whether he turned to acknowledge her or not. "And what are you? You don't smell human but I've never smelled a scent like yours before." It pained her to admit it. Nascha didn't like to admit to ignorance but if she wanted to satisfy her curiosity then she had to. 

    His question almost caused her footsteps to pause as she blinked at him. "Anxious to get rid of me already?" A teasing lilt returned to her tone, she enjoyed taunting him. "And aren't you going to introduce yourself in return?"

    An arched eyebrow accompanied the question, even as her gaze flitted back to taking in the sights. 

  • His sudden insult brought her up short. Maybe she had asked the wrong vampire for help. Whatever she might have replied was cut short when he reached out for her. Instinctively, she yanked her hand back, but he was faster. His hand closed around her wrist like an iron shackle. She could almost hear the church bells of her future funeral ringing in her ears. Panic lit like a match inside of her, though she tried to quell it. She thought about screaming — that would attract undue attention. Fear tightened her throat, constricting any sound she might have made.

    Even so, she was not a willing participant in this. She planted her feet, tried to yank her arm free, somewhat calming when he did at last release her. But what the hell was she to do? She couldn't run. Well, she could try. But it was unlikely she would get very far.

    Power coiled around her, simmering the air. It left a burnt tinge in the air. Think of fire. Think of fire! Vampires were weak to it. Surely that much was still true? She wouldn't in the bar. Too many witnesses and potential for collateral damage.

    Not fire. Too much smoke. Burnt flesh. Singed hair. Smoke, fire, and ash. Get out!

    His biting insult hollowed out the fear. Her reaction was perhaps too strong to be considered normal. The scent permeated the air like a thick cloud. Her heart hammered an erratic rhythm in her chest.

    “And you're a fox-heart!" She snapped back, though it came out a little breathless.

    Her face darkened the further he went on; mostly because he was correct. Yes, she was naive: it irked her to be reminded of such. She'd thought she had something to work with, but it was clear in that moment she had read everything wrong. Add it to the growing list. She'd spoken the truth about a fondness for vampires, but she had only known one.

    A much more pleasant one, too!

    Legacy continued to glare at him. She absently rubbed the wrist he'd assaulted earlier — though it was only her pride that was bruised.

    A wave of horror and anguish crashed over her like a tidal wave.

    I hate this life! Absolutely, with every fiber of my being! Death, at this point, was starting to appear more like a blessing than a curse. Her eyes searched the stars for answers, as they often did, but they only twinkled down at her, perhaps finding amusement in her predicament.

    His impatient coaxing brought her gaze back to him. Her eyes widened. “I—I'm not going anywhere with you!" She took a step back.

    Then again, he had warned her of the dangers here. He could have just snorted at her and left her to her fate at the bar. He didn't. Now she had the sense that she had possibly put him in danger as well. Wasn't that just fantastic? 

    But if he knew the dangers, he would also know how to avoid them. 

    Or he could be lying. 

    “Where are we going?" She demanded instead, though she only closed the distance between them by a few paces.

     

  • Legacy blinked at him. Confusion clouded her face at his statement. Her lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but failed to find the words. What was he on about? She almost laughed at her poor luck; did she manage to find a vampire that possessed subpar intelligence?

    Slowly, it dawned on her. It should have been obvious. Of course. The single vampire she used to know did not engage in the activity of drinking from the source. Humans, however, had a fascination with vampires and the bite; whether to satisfy visceral curiosity or sexual desire.

    Irritation pricked at her once she understood the meaning behind his words, but she had the grace to keep it hidden.

    “And I'm not going to have sex with you," she retorted coolly. Blood and sex always seemed to mix with vampires. “Now that we are on the same page..." She trailed off, not quite able to conceal her glare. A small frown graced her lips; she did understand. It must be exhausting. Her attitude vanished entirely when the bartender sat a fruity drink in front of her. Some sort of strawberry daiquiri or martini, and was most appreciated. With her free hand, she took the glass and took a quick sip. Her expression softened.

    Her smile faltered at his next question. This time, she took a long, hearty swig, nearly draining half the glass. She'd have to be careful; her tolerance was laughably low.

    He had a point. What could she offer him? Nothing, for she had nothing. But he didn't know that. She decided to tap into his lingering humanity.

    “Vampires live a long a time," she mused. “So I am sure you are familiar with mistakes... The devastating power of a single misstep. To feel the crushing weight of what can never be undone. If only time would bend to your will, if only you could go back... you'd give anything to make it right. But those chances lost are lost forever. And the selfishness that drove you, the fantasies that blinded you... they cost you everything. Someone irreplaceable, someone you can never get back. The ache of that loss, it gnaws at you, relentless. Yet still you reach out, desperate to mend what's been broken. But your efforts, they only twist the knife. The damage you've done, it mushrooms into something monstrous, something beyond your worst nightmares. And you're left with only the bitter taste of what your desperation has wrought."

    As she spoke, the amber flecks in her eyes seemed to burn brighter. Legacy took a steadying breath, realizing that this soul-searching rant not only hinted at her back story, but it was also meaningless to a stranger; The vampire wanted something her could grasp with his own hands in return for his help. Power, money, something else? She did not know. What she did know, was that she would give it. Whatever it takes.

    As she spoke, the amber flecks in her eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire. Legacy inhaled deeply, recognizing that this soul-baring confession not only hinted at her troubled past but was also as insubstantial to complete stranger; laughably as intangible as the wind itself.
    The vampire craved something useful in return for his aid. Power, wealth, something else? She was unsure. What she did know, with certainty, was that she would surrender anything his cold heart desired.

    "I will grant you whatever you wish, as long as it lies within my power to give." Her voice rang out, bold as she met his gaze. If nothing else, her impassioned plea would demonstrate her unwavering commitment to rectifying the harm she felt she had inflicted.

    "I believe the witch who claimed the artifact intends to wield it in a potent ritual, perhaps to imperil vampires, bend them to her will, or amass dark power." The words tumbled from her lips, but she couldn't substantiate the claim, so she hastily clarified, "That is, of course, just speculation. It could be wielded for entirely different purposes, but I doubt its use will be benevolent. And if she employs it for malevolent ends against vampires, that puts you at risk. Surely you'd seek to mitigate that danger?"

    But why would she care? That was the biggest question. So she had some troubled, heart wrenching past. So what? She gave herself over to selfish desires and lost something in return. Who didn't? Oh, and she'd given some witch with a vengeance against vampires a tool that could be used in their undoing? Oh well. She was a witch, likely immune by whatever spell that would be cast.

    So why did she care?

    Further more...why would she trust him? Clearly her trust had been mishandled before.

    The vampire might be speculating that, Legacy figured. At least, she would be. So she quickly cleared it up.

    “I have a....fondness, I guess you'd say, for vampires. Moreover, I do not wish harm upon anyone undeserving of it. And I suspect that you must feel the same, because you passed my test." With deft fingers, she flipped up the hidden note. It was blank. “I'm not completely mouse-brained. I know how quickly a vampire can move. Just as I know you used some form of compulsion on the bartender, though I'm not complaining about the results. That fancy little trick won't work on me though, so don't even think about it. My head is my own."

    Legacy downed the rest of her drink, causing her cheeks to flush with the alcohol. A slight, knowing smile curved her lips. "I presented the opportunity for you to take what information I had without consent. You had the chance to take it and leave; there's little I could have done to stop you, though I most certainly would have tried. And for all you know, it could have been something useful for you. Perhaps even some artifact that could give you power. But you didn't. You also didn't tell me to bugger off. If you were so inclined to be unhelpful, you would have. Your curiosity keeps you here. I believe that same curiosity will make you willing to help me, if only to find the artifact itself. Along with the aforementioned reasons."

    Her wit gave her courage. Or perhaps it was the alcohol that made her relax. Whatever it was, she watched him with a keen eye. “So, what's your price? Or if you remain uninterested, I will take my leave and we can both go in peace."

  • Now that she had a good look at him, Legacy realized, with a jolt, that this was not the same vampire she had witnessed the day before. She reached out with just a thread of power. Yes, he was the same vampire she had been hunting; she had just briefly mistaken him for another.

    At her demand, he turned around, one arm sprawled lazily over the bar behind him while the other clutched his drink; a picture of predatory confidence. His legs bumped against her own, causing her to politely shift away.

    Her clear expression cracked. It was obvious that she had not expected him to reject her request. There was a nearly imperceptible trembling in her hand as she tucked a strand of hair back behind her ears. Her ploy was then obvious; liquid courage, which she would apparently be denied. He was better at this game than she was.

    “That's not very gentlemanly of you,” she accused, though her words were far from harsh. In fact, there was a tang of respect in her voice.

    In her desperation, she had given the mysterious artifact to the wrong person... to the enemy. Now, she needed help to understand what she had unleashed upon the world. And there was only one type of creature who could provide the answers she sought... a vampire.

    “My name is Legacy,” her voice was naturally soft. There was a soothing resonance to it; the kind that could calm a crying child or still a roaring crowd. She ignored his own request for a drink. Strange name as well. Unlike him, she lacked any sort of accent. It was impossible to place her origins beyond American. Boring

    She took a deep, steadying breath. “I know your nature,” she said in the crowded bar, avoiding calling him out in case anyone happened to overhear. Not that it was likely. In fact, it was quite unlikely. “And I need your help.”

    She reached into her pocket and pulled out a simple piece of folded white paper. She slid it towards him, but did not lift her hand yet. “I gave this to someone I should not have. Something powerful and deadly, should it fall to the wrong hands. I was told that perhaps a vampire would know. I was told that you might be able to help me.” She didn't share just how she found him or why she would assume he would want to help her.

    “If you're not interested, I can be on my way.” He wasn't the only vampire around. She had yet to actually give him the slip of paper. It remained beneath her hand. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Whatever fear she might have had, she showed none of it outwardly. 

  • For a few minutes the defiant indignation remained etched upon her face, from her expression down to the fierce glare she'd pinned upon him. It was only his reaction to noticing her nudity that broke through the harshness, a smirk ticking up her lips that was all at once more humorous. "Awfully surprised by my current lack of attire for someone whom seems to know so much about werewolves aren't we?" Her tone was teasing, playful almost but there was an underlying note exasperation because honestly what had he expected? Everyone knew shifting tended to destroy clothing if it wasn't removed beforehand, or at least she thought they had. 

    Her nose twitched as he drew to a halt, causing a fine cloud of sand to bloom but thankfully she didn't sneeze. Halting, she tilted her head to the side and watched the swift way he unfastened his shirt. Hardly surprised when the garment in question was tossed in her direction. She plucked it out of the air and took a moment to simply inhale his scent; which lingered upon the fabric. Before she pulled it on and deftly fastened the buttons. Since he was likely taller than her, the shirt covered everything important. 

    Once decent she folded her arms across her chest and fixed her gaze upon his back. Waiting for him to actually look at her again. "Thank you." She mumbled, slightly begrudgingly towards his back, bare feet padding soundlessly against the ground as she resumed trailing after him.

    The closer they drew to the city, the more her attention wavered from watching her reluctant companion. Sweeping instead over the sights, taking their surroundings in. She told herself it was because she was preparing for an ambush. But the truth was she was merely curious; something told her the hunters wouldn't try anything here. Perhaps instinct, or more likely mere knowledge of how they'd acted in the past that told her so. 

    His question drew her gaze back towards him with a frustrated huff at his chosen way of referring to her. "Will you actually use it if I do?" The words were uttered sharply, her displeasure at his nickname obvious. After a beat she added; "Nascha. Nascha Kaltain." Depending on his age and how knowledgeable he was, he might realise that the name Kaltain wasn't that of a wolf pack but a rather formidable witch coven. One that had been wiped out but a few years ago. Many mistakenly believing there had been no survivors. 

  • Whilst she certainly appeared docile in that moment, it didn't mean Nascha was incapable of being vicious. She had little to no reason to show any form of aggression towards this man; put one of those hunters causing havoc inside in front of her though and she'd soon show her violent side. Nothing angered her more than hunters after all. A chuff escaped her in response to his words and she dipped her muzzle in agreement, hunters in her opinion often were rather stupid or at the very least highly prejudiced. If she noticed the lingering accent, in her current shape she could say nothing of it. And it was honestly of little importance, all things considered. 

    Her ears pricked at the crashing sound, hackles rising as she stilled for a full minute. As if in hypervigilance. Her head canting to the side as she caught the way his eyes shone red in the moonlight. Igniting a burning curiosity inside of her, she'd never seen a creature with eyes that colour before. 

    As he began to walk; she trotted after him. Her paws making little sound upon the paved ground, even as she chuffed again in response to his words. Hate each other? She wondered why he thought they were supposed to hate each other. If he thought that statement would sway her from her current course of action, he really didn't know her that well. For all her cautious nature, and she was wary of strangers. Nascha suffered from burning curiosity. A curiosity that wouldn't let her abandon this quest now. 

    She kept pace with him easily, not that he was moving all that fast. Her ears alert to their surroundings lest they be caught unawares. Though, strangely it appeared no hunters stalked the grounds, had they all gone inside en masse? That didn't seem very strategic to her but she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. She tossed him a glance at the sarcastic question as if asking; would you prefer I walked through town naked? 

    Of course since he hadn't looked at her, it was doubtful he would see it. She shook herself, making sure none of the glass had found its way into her fur. As doubtful as that was. 

    What had she wanted with his informant? 

    It was a good question and one she wasn't sure she had an answer to. Or if she did, if she was ready to share it. Her fur bristling as a growl reverberated in her chest. Anger flashed through her on a burning tide. Oh how dare he...? Her fur bristled, before seeming to shrink away withdrawing into her skin. The snap of bones heralding her return to her human shape. Hands finding their way onto her hips, uncaring of the fact the shift had left her decidedly bare. 

    "Is this better for you, then?" 

  • The prickling sensation returned, a chilling whisper along his spine. Ironic, considering his nature. Vampires were the watchers, the stalkers... not the watched.

    Days had passed, yet the feeling persisted. Elusive, taunting. In deserted alleys, only shadows kept him company, along with the occasional inebriated soul and the feral cats that ruled the night. And in the bars, thrumming with life and noise... his kind drew attention, a magnetism woven from mystery and the promise of darkness. Yet, none of it felt right. None of it explained this gnawing sense of being hunted. Being a creature of pride and power, it might have rankled to know that he could not pinpoint the source.

    Just outside, the air was thick with an otherworldly energy as Legacy stepped out of the dimly lit alleyway. Drunken men wretched the contents of their stomach out on the steet. The stench made Legacy wrinkle her nose.

    She'd been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. For days, she'd watched him move unseen through the city's crowded streets, his true nature hidden behind a mask of humanity. She could have learned the truth with a mere whisper of power, but she was so concerned at being detected that she focused more on concealing herself. She should be able to do both simultaneously, yet her own abilities were still raw, untested. Even so, she could sense that he was different. Something about him set her on edge, made her want to pull back and hide. He was a predator and she was undoubtedly the prey. There was no other way around it. She stood zero chance against him. So long as she stuck to the shadows, she'd be safe. After all, she only had the word of another and wild rumors to go on. He could be just a normal, albeit otherworldly, human.

    Legacy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No. Last night, she'd seen the truth for herself. Hiding in the shadows, she'd watched as he drew a young woman in. His movements were smooth, practiced, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly hunger. The woman hadn't stood a chance, hadn't even realized the danger until it was too late. And then...and then he'd struck. She'd felt it, a jolt of something like shock running through her very being as he took what he needed. He hadn't harmed the woman, not visibly. But the fact remained - he was a creature of the night, a creature that had to feed off another's lifeblood to live himself. She did not blame him for his act. How were humans any different? Or any other living being? Feeding for blood was truly no different than feeding off the caracass of an animal. And at least most of the humans lived after the ordeal.

    The same could not be said for chicken nuggets.

    Gathering her courage, she entered the bar. She commanded attention, though not due to her physical allure. Her features were pleasing, yet lacked the striking quality that typically garnered second glances. Prominent cheekbones framed her face, complemented by skin that boasted a radiant glow. Her eyes, a mundane shade of brown punctuated with flecks of gold, held a quiet intensity. Standing at a height that surpassed the average woman's, her stature was noticeable without being intimidating. Cascading down her back, her lengthy, chestnut-hued locks danced with a life of their own in the gentle breeze.

    It was what she was wearing that drew the eyes of the patrons. She wore a cream colored blouse and khaikis. The clothes themselves looked as if they had passed several hands before she acquired them. Not that they were dirty; instead, they held the cozy, well-worn appearance of fabric that had survived several hundred wash cycles, each one imbuing the material with a sense of timeless comfort and familiarity. That in itself seemed strange amongst a crowd of vibrant youths.

    But it was the cloak that topped off her peculiarity. A long, dark cloak wrapped around her shoulders and fell gracefully down her back. Her face was nearly concealed beneath the hood. Some of the humans snickered at her absurd choice of dress. She looked like she belonged at a Comic-Con rally then here. A few openly mocked her, but if she was bothered by their cruelty, she never showed it. By the slight curl of her lips, it seemed as if their jests amused her.

    Alexander felt her gaze like a jolt of electricity. He didn't need to turn to know a woman had locked onto him. This wasn't the casual brush of eyes scanning a crowd. This was intent, a weight of knowledge. Like she'd been waiting for him. A flick of her wrist, and the hood fell away from her head. Confidence radiated from every step as she closed in. Without a word, she slid onto the seat beside him.

    "Hello," she murmured. The soft syllable hung in the air, a soothing balm. The kind of quiet that could hush a crying child or calm a crowd on the brink of riot. She was the kind of woman a lost child would seek and find solace in. Yet, for all her calming presence, there was a boldness to her. A spark of defiance in her eyes. Her very presence was a contradiction, a riddle waiting to be solved.

    Legacy tilted her head as she assessed him. There was something about this vampire, an aura that hinted at depths unplumbed and secrets waiting to be unearthed. Not that she particularly wanted to know his secrets. She was here for only one reason.

    But first...“Buy me a drink?"

    Someone gasped. She had broken an unwritten rule. Women didn't approach men, after all. Funny that women touted equality when there still existed this most basic mahogany.

    Her lips twitched. Amusement sparkled like a jewel in her gaze, making them appear a shade lighter. She seemed to enjoy breaking the mold of societal norms.

    “I like the fruity drinks," she added. “Not the strong, punch-to-your-gut whiskey or vodka. Nothing "on the rocks" as they say." Although Captain Morgan and Coke slapped. “Fruity. But no coconut." Was she for real? “Well, a little bit is okay," she amended. “Just as long as it isn't overwhelming." Yes, she was quite for real, it seemed. There was no flirtatious flip of her hair or alluring smile. She did not blush or speak in soft whispers to him. He was likely used to women being affected by him. Hell, probably even men. She seemed entirely unimpressed, however.

    She was here for something. That fact was obvious. Otherwise, she would not have approached him in this fashion.

    So what led this enigmatic woman to his doorstep?

     

  • (Hey there. If you're open to new threads and interested in plotting, I can send you details to your inbox once you accept my friend request)

  • Nascha was the opposite of a loner, at least if she were given the choice, her kind were after all pack creatures. Driven by an intense need for community and whilst she might be a hybrid and thus more able to spend time with nothing but her own company, the desire for a place to belong and people to belong with hadn't been dulled all that much. Maybe it was because the other side of her nature also thrived in communities. And she'd grown up part of a prominent coven; at least until the witch hunters had come. 

    Tension rode her body in waves, her muscles tightening in preparation for the fight that might just befall them if they lingered here too much longer, her blue hued gaze flaring lupine gold in her agitation. She allowed him to appraise her, wondering what it was he might be thinking as he took in her casual appearance so at odds with the finery of those around them. Even as she shuffled from foot to foot with the growing need to be gone from this place. 

    Her gaze followed his towards the dead witch before lifting once more to flit around the room and track the hunters movements, gauging how much closer they might have gotten. Attention returning to him a moment later, following his gaze towards the window and dipping her chin in understanding. 

    If his sudden burst of speed surprised her, she refused to show it; keeping her expression devoid of any kind of emotional response. She took off after him, judging the distance from the window to the ground a split second before she jumped, making the snap decision to shift before impacting with the ground. With the sound of tearing clothes and snapping bones, what landed on the rough sidewalk was a midnight furred wolf.

    The hackles around her throat lifted as her muzzle scented the air and she picked her way through the shards of glass toward him, gleaming golden eyes flitting from the broken window to him and back again as if silently suggesting he lead the way. He was likely more familiar with this place than she was after all. 

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