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Post by Greylyn Blair on Sept 28, 2010 11:50:06 GMT -7
Fifteenth on her destination list. Club Jet. Deep in an alley away from the hustle and bustle of Greater London.
She had been working on this list since moving to England with her brother. The great list to conquer every club in the city.
The teen finally emerged through the door for what seemed like forever standing in the line, but she made it through. Being in England, she didn't have to fork over the fake ID she had had to show in the States. Europe was definitely a lot more lenient on age limits.
But was she here to drink and get on the drug scene? No, she was here for the club itself. For a seventeen-year-old, she was strangely moralistic when it came to such things as plaguing her body with unknown substances. Not to say she didn't enjoy SOME alcohol, but in moderation. Some might call her old-fashioned, un-fun, or even point at her as some religious nut, but strangely, Greylyn was none of these. She did not follow a particular religion either. It was merely a choice of heart.
As she stepped through the threshold, her senses were enthralled by the sounds of club music, flashing lights, and the smells of alcohol, sweaty, tightly-packed bodies, and other substances she regularly smelled in such places.
The wolf slipped through the crowd that hovered at the door and quickly glanced around to get her bearings. Bar to the left, raised platform for dancing straight ahead. Private rooms in the back and bathrooms in the corner. Typical club, to the untrained eye. The special thing about this place was supernaturals only.
Grey continued to move about, slowly but surely, taking in the different scents as to know where she stood. Although quiet the wild child, she was very cautious about her surroundings. Places like this were dangerous, but then again it was part of the thrill.
As she stepped onto the raised dance platform, Grey began to move, slowly, but surely as she drifted farther into the crowd. Blond hair fell to her waist, while shorter strands stood up on her crown in spikes; deep purple bangs falling into glitter-encrusted sapphire eyes. Instead of her usual dress-down attire of band shirts and jeans, she sported a halter top held up by her neck, all the skin of her back exposed except for a thin string also hold the shirt to her small body. A small triangle was cut out in the front to reveal her slight tummy. A little jewel dangled from the indention in her belly. A purple tool tutu wrapped around her waist, ending at the top of her thigh, sparkling under the lights. Her ensemble was completed by her usual Chucks and the numerous bracelets she adorned on her arms.
Grey felt numerous hands pass over her body as people grabbed different partners. She never allowed it to go past this. A few minutes with this person, a few with that, but she always ended up back at the same place. The center of the dance floor. |
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Post by Cross McKnight on Oct 3, 2010 13:26:22 GMT -7
Cross sat in the corner booth of the bar. It had become his home as of late, though not many knew why. Even since Kai had been shot and killed, Cross hadn't been the same. He'd been a hell of a lot more irritable and aggressive acting at work, mainly due to girls now hitting on him that he was single. He hated how he'd become but he seemed lost without his lover. Sure they'd never stayed in each others’ company much if at all but just knowing he was alive and well had been enough for him. And now...Cross didn't know what to do.
He'd just knocked back yet another drink, his fifth so far, when a big burly guy came up, demanding the 'mutt' move out of his seat. The guy reeked of vampire and as much as Cross wanted to just rip his throat out he knew he couldn't without running the risk of a.) causing a scene and b.) poisoning himself in the process. "You got three seconds to back off me bloodsucker," he growled. "Or lose your head." Cross was in a bad mood and none to happy with the vampire race. Being an assassin, he could drop this guy where he stood if he wanted to.
And the guy wanted to be an idiot and still bother him. Cross appeared to barely move before the guy fell to the floor, a stab wound in his gut. Cross' blade had killed him near instantly, having been coated in werewolf blood...
his own werewolf blood. |
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Post by Greylyn Blair on Oct 3, 2010 18:43:57 GMT -7
There was a moment of friction in crossing between the adrenaline pumping, grinding of the music and the shock of the blood split on the club floor. Grey stopped in the middle floor, staring out at the bar. Sapphire blue eyes locked onto the male standing over the corpse. Whether the rest of the room noticed or not, she didn't pay attention. The little wolf was knocked from her reverie as her sensitive nose was flooded by the foul smell of vampire blood and she immediately backed against the wall.
Vampire blood was putrid, but any blood to her was sickening. She always had a hard time eating in wolf form because of it . Looking over the hand that was clasped to her face, she saw the long-haired wolf that stood over the body. Was he bleeding too?
Grey felt no immediate danger, but the sickening smell was making her head swim She quickly eased towards the back door then threw herself out into the fresh air. She slowly let the fresh air out, trying to forget the smell. Shaking her head like it would help, she crouched down in the alleyway in an attempt to control the swirling in her stomach.
The events played through her head It didn't phase her much. She knew violence happened in places like this, but it was still very surreal in her mind. The guy seemed to have no problem with killing the vampire. She was personally no liker of the species herself, but she never really thought about killing someone.
Did he kill him because he was a vampire? Was he a threat to him? She slid down against the wall to get some more fresh air and clear her head. |
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