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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 24, 2008 20:21:28 GMT -8
Damon was sick of Florence. He'd never thought that would be possible, been since all the drama in Fell's Church he hadn't been able to enjoy himself knowing his brother was ensconsed within the same city and ridiculously happy with a woman that should have been his. No, that wasn't right. Damon knew Elena was a better fit with his saintly little brother, and he hadn't loved her. Not really. She'd just been a prize at first, and then with time her spirit had gotten to him... and he merely had a... a.... fondness for her. He didn't love her. He didn't love anyone.
But, ah, the great Florence was nothing but an annoyance to him now, especially when their bright and happy spirits were always beating down his door. He was trying to brood, damn it! But no, they just did not know how to let him live in peace and darkness. They seemed to think there was some sort of good in him. That he belonged with their joyous little group of pathetic humans.
He'd merely saved them for the entertainment. And if anyone got the joy of killing his little brother, that would be him. Not some hopped-up Original, or even an ex-lover. Pah!
So here he was in Las Vegas, a Nightworld club nonetheless, alone and brooding. Now this was how he liked it. He liked to be alone, and he loved drowning any feeling he may have had- of which he didn't!- in alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. And no one dared bother the elder Salvatore, for they all knew he'd rip them a new one if given the chance.
He wasn't lonely, and he wasn't reformed. Far from it... well, maybe just a tad lonely, but still! He was Damon Salvatore, damn it, and he did not go for the light! In fact, he was here to stay away from it, to get back into the swing of being the bad, bad man he truly was, and there was no one who could stop him. And he'd be damned if he let his brother find him again, either.
Las Vegas was, after all, the perfect place to escape in. And the most opportune place to be such a sinner.
Liam had just finished another late night on the job. He'd taken the time to use the employee showers upon exiting the cells located in the lower levels of his boss' building. But even though he'd cleaned he wasn't all that surprised to still smell blood on him.
Ah, well, not like he minded. Of course, picking up a nice tasty treat would be a bit harder, but he was Liam Black. No one refused him, and if they did then he could just kill them. Easy as that. Everything was as simple as that for him.
Glancing around the dark club, his trademark killer smirk and dark gleam in his eyes, his gaze came to rest on a familiar figure at the bar. Ah, so the Italian returneth!
His smirk turned purely predatory as he lazily strode across the dance floor and took a seat at the bar next to his old... well, not friend.. He wasn't sure what he was.
A loud smack resounded as Liam's hand collided with Damon's back. "'Ol chap," he said with a low chuckle, "Been a long time. Why so glum? Don't tell me the saint has rubbed off on you!"
Liam just loved to annoy. And the club wasn't very full at the moment, so unless there was something to distract him then he would continue to annoy the italian, and brooding vampire... and inevitably cause a fight. He loved the chaos. [/size]
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Post by shinigami on Jun 24, 2008 20:39:26 GMT -8
Liam came from underneath; from the showers. Damon was stationed at the bar; as much a fixture as the bar's shadow.
And Beatrix came through the front door, alone and glancing over her shoulder. She was all luminous skin -- not vampiric luminosity, which is cold and wintry, but something more flush with life; something closer kin to the moon -- and whimsical dress that went down to her knees. Boots, black as the most sinful of coffee, and clearly of the asskicking variety underneath the feminine dress -- a slip showing, stark white, snow white.
The effect was not innocent. Not the way maidens are innocent, anyway.
And over her shoulder? Beatrix was watching a friend shy away, frightened; her expression was balanced somewhere between endearment and disgust. And that expression changed completely when she turned, fingering a lock of hair back behind one ear, to survey tonight's scene. It wasn't her first visit to the Black Iris, although, to the regulars who'd had the occasion to interact with her, there were possibly a couple of memories they weren't sure what to do with. She was a strange young woman.
She fit the place like a hook through an eye -- fish hook, open eye.
Before heading to the bar, Beatrix steepled her fingers -- yes, yes she did, just like a comic book villain, mouth almost turning up at the corner, NOTHING childish or even kitten-coy (definitely not) -- and stopped dead.
But, you know, not really. Still breathing.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 24, 2008 20:54:30 GMT -8
Liam stilled in his antics. For some odd reason, he'd felt a sudden unease creeping up his spine. And Liam was rarely ever uneasy, unless he was in trouble with the Boss. His hands dropped down onto the bar counter, Damon forgotten for a moment, and swiveled around in his seat to stare at the new entrance.
Well... he couldn't say he'd seen something quite like her before. Even when he wasn't trying to feel her out, he got the prickled sense of unease. It was intriguing. She was different. Hmm...
*
Damon on the other hand, did not care. Sure, he'd felt the entrance of someone unusual. A lot of power, and different. He didn't really care.
Taking another long swig of his drink, he set it roughly down upon the counter and turned in his seat. One dark eyebrow raised elegantly, not in interest but in mock inquiry.
And then without turning to look at Liam, for Damon rarely needed to look at what he was dealing with, he grabbed the other vampire by the collar and flung him into the far wall. Well, you couldn't have expected him to let the chiding go by, could you?
His eyes finally moved away from the girl before he sunk back into his dark thoughts, and drinks.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 24, 2008 21:20:20 GMT -8
Contradiction, thy name is Beatrix.
When Liam and Damon looked at her, she looked at them -- sort of. She narrowed her eyes at them. This didn't make her look dangerous. This didn't make her look deadly, and stoic, and meaningful; it made her look a little sleepy. That wasn't why she did it. Beatrix didn't want to see anything yet. Didn't want to see their secrets, written out on their hearts, plain to her as Damon's black eyes and Liam's cruel mouth. She let her arms swing loose and clasped her hands behind her back.
And then Damon, still looking at her, threw Liam across the room and into a wall. Beatrix watched Damon. Not Liam. Watched him turn, cool, back to the bar.
Then -- stupid witch; her parents would be so horrified now; so completely full of horror that they'd smack her with a sleep amulet so fast she'd choke on her own snore and drag her back home -- she made it so she'd be by Liam when and if he got back up.
Says, without sarcasm -- earnestly: "You flew with grace and poise -- what'd you say?"
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 24, 2008 21:25:53 GMT -8
Liam sat up slowly, rubbing his neck and wincing. Man, that sucker could throw. Who knew Italians could be so angry?
When the girl spoke, he glanced up and stared at her through narrowed eyes of speculation. "I may or may not have hinted that he acted like his little brother," he said. He didn't have any reservations about speaking his mind, nor did he feel the need to lie. Besides, telling the truth was a chaos in and of itself. "That, and Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody doesn't like to be touched, apparently."
He smirked suddenly, his old dark gleam lighting up his eyes for a moment as he pushed himself up to his feet. Took more than being thrown to knock this vampire down. "And I don't like to be thrown, so if you'll excuse me..."
With a slight nod, still smirking, he lazily moved forward a few steps towards Damon, positioned himself, and then in some sort of weird vampire frog leap, flung himself at Damon and tackled him to the floor. Liam was bringing the fight on.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 24, 2008 21:37:10 GMT -8
I may or may not have hinted that he acted like his little brother. "That does cover both options," Beatrix murmurs, quiet as a thread of smoke.
But by that time the vampire has risen to his feet, all stalker graceful, all light-footed, and the truth is Beatrix could watch those moves alllllllllll night long, because there's something just unutterably lovely about how graceful it is.
Beatrix's mouth quirked, just a little, when that ol' gleam reappeared in Liam's eyes, and she stepped back -- there was an exaggeration there -- and swept an arm out in a bow. Go on.
He's excused.
And she finally makes it to the bar, which coincidentally does give her a rather good view of the action on the floor, although she's not getting TOO close -- she really isn't as stupid as some people (parents, ahem) think she is. She ventures to make a bet with the bartender.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 24, 2008 21:50:00 GMT -8
Damon had just gotten a refill on his brandy. Was just taking his first lovely sip. But no. Of course Liam would ruin such fine pleasures for him. What could be expected of the sick pup, that barbari.
He didn't even bother to fight as he was tackled to the ground. It was an undignified position, but at least he was not the one to have brandy all over his clothes. That honor was reserved for our dear Liam.
"Bloody hell, mate!" Liam growled, looking down at his stained shirt. "That was Armani!"
"Pity, I always favored Ferragamo," Damon murmured. His dark eyes were cold and hard, unfeeling. They betrayed none of his thoughts or emotions, unlike the uncouth vampire on top of him.
With a long-suffering sigh as Liam continued to rant, he pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it open with his thumb. Liam's shirt caught up in flame, spreading quickly due to the alcohol in the fabric. It was what he'd been planning all along. As if Damon would let himself be tackled without good reason.
"Oh, for the love of..." Liam said with his own sigh, and a slight pout. He was forced to roll off of Damon, and then proceeded to try to beat the flames out of his shirt. "I hope you know this bloody burns!"
Damon flashed a quick dazzling smile, on and off in a matter of seconds, but the charm was still there. "I hope you know that I don't care," was all he said before righting his chair and sitting back down as if nothing had happened. He raised an eyebrow at the bartender, fully aware that bets had been made and that the girl was now in Liam's old seat.
He didn't bother to turn his head away from the bartender as he waited for a new brandy as he asked her, "Enjoying the entertainment?"
He really didn't know why he bothered, but he felt the the need to share the amusements of the evening with someone.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 24, 2008 22:03:26 GMT -8
Beatrix didn't answer Damon immediately. Maybe she was considering how casually, how carelessly, he'd set Liam on fire; maybe she was considering the shadows that the fire made. Beatrix was enamoured of light.
As she watched, sidelong, the more expressive vampire beat at his flaming shirt -- well. Her gaze just seemed to drink the light in. And it didn't go somewhere never to be seen again. Filled her eyes, made them all that was best of dark and bright -- see?
So Beatrix didn't answer Damon immediately. There was a moment's consideration. And she'd lost the bet.
Finally, there's that quirk of her mouth again. Not an actual smile. Not yet. But still, there, something shared and human. "I should hope so. Otherwise it wouldn't be much in the way of entertainment, would it? Are you?"
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 24, 2008 22:11:10 GMT -8
"I enjoy it as long as I am not the one set up in flames," Damon said with a cold smile. In reality though, he did not enjoy it. He did not care. It was merely just old habits that would not die. Going through the motions, as one would say, the same ones he'd spent over five centuries perfecting.
He raised his glass in a mock salute, raising an eyebrow briefly before turning to watch as Liam finally lost the battle to his shirt and ripped it off... only to throw it at a passing witch, who then caught on fire. Liam was sure to enjoy that; someone else in pain, and not just him. Fun fun. Or not.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 24, 2008 22:17:25 GMT -8
"Really?"
Beatrix's gaze followed the arc of flaming cloth. Which then set a witch on fire. That was never a comfortable image for a witch; not ever. Even though at times the idea of immolation -- of feeling ones bones turn to dark inside something so incandescent -- Beatrix looked away, looked down at her knees. She wasn't really a masochist. Not really. Not always. Just like she wasn't really a sadist. Not really. Not always.
"You're a good liar."
A lock of shining hair fell over her cheek, fell over the collar bone -- as delicate as any fairytale instrument made out of a murdered girl's bones. Then she propped her chin on her fist and said to the bartender: "Can I have a cherry coke? Wait. No! A cinnamon lassi."
Cinnamon lassi. Indian drink. Not commonly found in bars. But the Black Iris catered to the strangest of tastes.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 24, 2008 22:29:52 GMT -8
"And you are an odd girl," Damon replied with ease. He wasn't going to fight her on her statements. He had the strangest sense that she could see right through him, and with something like that, he wasn't going to be stupid enough fight it.
Liam would have added to the liar statement had he been able to get over there. However, he was surrounded by a group of angry witches, furious that he'd set their friend on fire. "Look, will you just LOOK! She's fine! Not on fire anymore. Her hair will grow back! Aag! Demon women! Get off of me, you foul wretched beasts!!!!"
Damon glanced over his shoulder and chuckled dryly. There was no amusement in the sound, just basic reaction to the scene.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 24, 2008 22:39:21 GMT -8
He is going to get hexed. That's what Beatrix thinks as Liam's shape disappears behind a wall of witches -- the nasty kind, the dark kind; the kind that use blood regularly in their workings; the kind that summon and bind fell spirits.
Beatrix didn't respond immediately, again. Her cinnamon lassi had been set down in front of her, after all, and she was tasting it as if the taste mattered.
Then she was licking her lips, and they shone like sugar. Beatrix was smiling, finally, and for real; the darkest thing in the room. The way paper, set on fire, sort of darkens, sort of curls. She reached over to tickle Damon's neck.
Blasphemy! But she did it, anyway, without any guarantee she wouldn't also go flying across the room and into a wall.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 24, 2008 22:48:38 GMT -8
The glass in Damon's hands started to splinter, the only sign he made of his anger at his personal space being intruded upon. It did not break, for he exerted great control over himself. Fine lines ran through the glass up to the brim, but it remained whole, intact, and the brandy inside did not rush through the cracks just yet.
It was all he could do, for he would not hit her like he had Liam. He despised Liam. And he despised being touched without invitation. But he would not hit a female. Though most knew him to be evil, sarcastic and cruel, Damon had his morals. Hitting a woman was high on his 'Not to do' list.
Liam had managed to throw off a few of the violent witches-demons- whichever, they were still awful. But then he got some witch fire to his side... He'd been trying to get out of this without killing too many and getting banned from the club, but the fire was just pushing his limits. Fine, then. They wanted to play dirty? Ha! He'd take them on. So when they came at him again, he let them, but he didn't go down this time. He fought back with centuries of training and killing on his side. And he was winning... for he held no hesitation when fighting the fairer sex.
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Post by shinigami on Jun 24, 2008 22:56:31 GMT -8
"It's not weakness to say stop. Words mean things."
Her hair was light. Her skin was light. Her eyes were filled with it. So it made sense that her touch was light; she wanted to tickle, after all. Her fingertips fell away, and she turned her chair so that the back of it was to the bar; the lassi was in her hands. Maybe to keep them from temptation.
"I'm being a bastard, aren't I?"
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Post by lily tomlinson on Jun 24, 2008 23:03:12 GMT -8
Damon turned his head slightly, his face carefully void of emotion. It was a mask that would be hard to remove, he'd kept in on so long. He was unfeeling, to those who saw him. Cruel. Not one seemed to ever contemplate their actions, or deem it necessary to understand the reasons behind his actions, or see if he even had a heart. Didn't matter anyway. Not anymore.
"You're merely showing your human nature," he replied. It was true he didn't comprehend physical contact other than that out of anger or just a need for another body for one night. It... bothered him, he supposed. But mostly it was just unfamiliar and unexpected territory.
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