raring to go [[open

[anna]

Anasztásia really didn't have much business being outside of her house. She rarely did any more, ever since she had quit her job as a nursery nurse. She had enough money set aside (and given faithfully to her each month by her parents) that she didn't have to go back to work for a while, and she felt that that was the best option. People inspired, at the moment, a querulous feeling within her that she didn't trust herself to pursue, at some semi-conscious level in her mind. She wanted, she knew, to work in a bar, eventually. When she had worked out what the hell was wrong with her, that was.

The feeling of restlessness that encompassed her waking hours (of which there had been many recently - her need for sleep was oddly absent) didn't seem to be quelled even by the slightest amount when she fidgeted, cleaned up around the house, or tried to indulge in some of the hobbies that she had passed over from her childhood years. Waiting until nightfall had seemed an eternity, but she would experience much more than that in the ensuing years. As soon as dusk darkened the sky, she was outside and straddling her latest purchase, something of a whim - a purple motorcycle whose brand name, ironically enough, was Nighthawk.

It roared to life beneath her fingertips, and it seemed to take no time at all to reach the centre of town. Cutting off the engine, her left heel kicked back to pull the kickstand down even as her right leg was bearing her weight. As soon as the bike was leaned safely on its rest and she was on her own two feet, the helmet came off. One or two people had stopped to admire the bike, but at this revelation, they turned to look at her instead, surprise etched on their features when they saw how young she was, and how innocent she looked. She certainly did not seem the type to go for something as dangerous as a bike, but the truth was right there in front of them. With a lazy smile, Anasztásia flicked a switch and stowed her leather jacket and black helmet in the storage compartment on the back of the bike.

As she straightened up and locked everything, arming the alarm on the bike as she had done religiously since the day almost a week before when she had bought the thing and driven it away from the show room, she smirked slightly at the shocked couple, and rolled her eyes. "What? Never seen a chick on a bike?" She adjusted her purple tunic, whose hem fluttered about half way down her thighs, and smoothed down her skinny black jeans. The heels she wore hadn't encumbered her at all whilst riding, but they made her tower above the couple, almost grazing six feet. She looked at them for two seconds longer, then stepped around them and entered the bar she had purposely parked in front of.

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[Rhoan MacAray]

Rhoan had only just gotten out of the room after a good few days of being locked up again. Some kind of indiscretion he had committed against the old man of course. Although even this time Rhoan couldn't tell you what he had supposedly done wrong. He was however starving by this point, unlike most new vampyres of the courts he didn't get the luxury of having food brought to him on a silver platters... or the vampire equivalent. As much as Rhoan had learnt to abide the taste of blood spiked wine he really could not stand the stuff, he had hated wine when he was a human and now it just seemed even worse. The ability to survive of the stuff however was heavily limited.

As such the second Albert had let him out he'd gotten dressed and fled the house. Making his way to the bar scene of the town. It was great, the few times he had actually had to hunt on his own without Nathaniel's guidance this was where he had come. Humans getting themselves drunk out of their minds and not paying attention to any apparent dangers, whether they be human or supernatural, it made for easy dinner.

He left the body in a place it would be easily found, following all of Nathaniel's rules. The humans neck broken and drained entirely from blood so they would never awaken, slashing the wound slightly so it didn't have the obvious tell tale make of a vampyres bite. It was annoying and seemed to take a while but Nathaniel was one of the few vampyres that had actually cared for his well being and sanity over the last few weeks since he'd been rescued from the dungeon.

Rhoan walked back out into the street. Stretching his arms out in front of him, feeling the familiar warmth spread through his body and the burn from his throat had finally dissipated. He took a deep breath in the familiarize himself with the scents of the area again, Nathaniel had explained it was due to him being so fresh and the fact he had a tendency to ignore most of his vampyre instincts. Just after he fed he was always stronger, faster and he could just feel and see more things, it slowly wore off but it seemed to be lasting longer and longer these days. Rhoan was starting to use it more, the longer it stayed. Even if he was still having issues with accepting the fact of what he was.

"What? Never seen a chick on a bike?"

He turned his attention to the owner of the voice that disturbed his thoughts, catching their scent. Mixed with the scent of petrol and the new-vehicle smell. Petrol and New-Vehicles... two of the best smelling things in the world when it came to Rhoan. He concentrated on that to the point he almost missed the scent beneath it. Vampyre definitely, but there was something there as well that was ringing alarm bells in his mind. MacAray? It was diluted that much he could tell, but it was there. He took another very deep breath to get a better read on it, he'd gotten pretty good and differentiating between some of the royal families and such now, thanks to Nathaniel insisting on it and driving him mad until he got it. The MacAray's he knew more than another as he spent unfortunately a lot of his time with the beasts. This scent was a little off those which lead Rhoan to believe she wasn't from his sisters or from Albert, it felt more like a cousin so possible it was one of Albert's brothers progeny.

Looking at her however cause him to doubt this further, she didn't look like a vampyre of the royal court. And there was the fact she was on a bike. The humans she had spoken to where unsettled and pretty much scarped. The bit of their brain that all humans try to ignore finally winning out. On a base level all humans are scared of vampyres, just most of them are idiots and ignore it. Rhoan personally found it bloody hilarious.

He walked over to her as she headed for the bar, slipping into step next to her and flashing her a wide grin, she was practically the same height as his which was always amusing. All of the other woman in his family where hilariously short. His black shirt hung open showing off his pretty much overly pale skin to anyone who glanced in his direction, his low slung jeans where also black, he'd never been one for colours, even when he was a human.

“You can't really blame them for staring sweetheart, They are all naturally terrified of us.”

Rhoan smirked to her, a blatant playful note in his voice showing he wasn't being serious. He enjoyed winding up humans when he was bored, they where fun to play with now and then. He rarely went beyond that, he didn't share his families views when it came to torturing them or such, but they where blatantly fun to play with. He was pretty sure every vampyre messed with a humans head now and then to pass the tedium.

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[anna]

It wasn't necessarily that she felt bad. Well, she had at the start, but that, she was sure, was from the sunlight and her exposure, however small. Once she had conquered that, she felt..... different. That seemed the only way to accurately describe it. She was active where before she had been placid, now more prone to anger and flaring up than having an irritatingly level temper that was rarely noticeable. She craved danger and the adrenaline rush, when only a few months ago, she had revelled in the solitude and silence of single life on her own. Most of all, and, in her opinion, worst of all, she couldn't trust herself to be around children, and she, the new her, didn't seem to care. This would have been unforgivable to the Anasztásia of three months ago, but she was a new person now, and she was caring less and less about the things she had previously loved.

Over the past month, her tongue had isolated her from the people that, however quietly, she had been friends with. It was her attitude and what was happening to her that had caused her to quit her job and hole up alone in her penthouse apartment. Always a fan of period housing, she had opted for a flat in a Victorian building, constructed in 1894. However, once she was inside, the only things she ended up keeping were the four poster bed, the claw footed bath, the double breasted armoire and the fireplaces that were focus points in the bedroom and the lounge. Everything else had been ripped out and demolished. She had no need or passion for the antiques any more, so it was likely that the contractors she had hired had surreptitiously sold everything off to the highest bidders.

Impulse buys were her thing at the moment, and she didn't seem bothered by it. She had the financial security to back it, and was fast making friends with the heads of lucrative businesses. Clearly, power was a new criterion for her circle of friends. Power. She liked power, she admired it. Most of all, she wanted it. Right now, it was a rather understated desire, tapping into her subconscious as she made small talk with the important business men and women of London, but it was likely to get much worse. Power was the thing that had drawn her to the bike, which had been the display in the window of an up and coming motor shop for less than three hours. They were more than happy to replace it with a burgundy Suzuki when she paid an extra two thousand pounds to have it checked immediately so she could drive it away as soon as possible.

As she took the first step away from the couple that had stopped, she shook the thought out of her mind and turned it to much more interesting topics - if she wanted to pull, who she wanted to pull, how easy she thought it would be, and how much she got to drink before it happened. Drinking was also a relatively new hobby, and she had taken to it like a duck to water, although she had yet to hit the stage where she liked the taste of whatever it was that she tipped down her trachea. Not knowing any different, though, she thought that that was normal, and so set no store by the taste, but instead by the price.

A single glance from the bouncer was enough to admit her, but it wasn't until she had stepped inside the club that she realised that she had company. She flashed a quick look to her left, where the guy had almost seemed to appear from nowhere, but the look stuck. She stopped just inside the door, initiating a cry of irritation from a girl that had walked in just behind her. She let the girl pass, with a medium-strength glare, and then turned back to the guy. "I think you might find that my heart's a little less than sweet, buddy." She quipped, her eyes flickering quickly over his attire, breathing a mental sigh of relief when she noted that he was taller than her (although only marginally). The second sentence he spoke didn't strike her as odd until she reached the bar.

Stopping at the dark wood counter, she gestured to a bottle of Scotch and signified that she wanted two glasses. A single word ensured a nod, and the lack of need to draw her purse out of her handbag. Her hand was around the bottle before the bar tender had even removed his, and they shared a knowing smirk as she poured two liberal measures into the glasses. Nudging one towards her dark companion, she fixed him with an expression that read "don't lie to me" as she took a sip of her drink, and then asked the inevitable question. "What do you mean, 'us'?" She looked a little confused, and didn't try to hide it. "You mean bikers?"

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[Rhoan MacAray]

"I think you might find that my heart's a little less than sweet, buddy."

Rhoan grinned as she responded, he actually enjoyed it when people responded in a decent fashion rather than just simpering out or giggling or something equally as stupid that would irritated him. There was nothing better than some one who could actually think more fore than four seconds. Albeit his sisters could think, most of the time they where just plotting something unspeakable and vile for some poor bastard who stumbled into their paths.

He followed her to the bar as she ordered drinks, glancing at it slightly whilst the smell his his nose and hid bit back the grimace. Rhoan still pretty much has issues with food and drinks. He really did not understand why other vampyres at thee balls could eat some foods, OK so they where usually raw meats and such but even that was enough to turn Rhoan's stomach. He was getting used to blood spiked wine and he have managed to move the theory onto other drinks, meaning he could actually drink in pubs with people again.

When he snagged the glass she had pushed towards him, he pulled a small canteen from his pockets. The kind alcoholics usually carry around with them, except his was usually topped up with blood courtesy of Nathaniel. He tipped some into the already pretty much full glass of whisky in a movement so fast even the tended would of missed it. Turning the colour of the whisky darked and almost black, he drank around half of it in one go. The burn of the whisky was pretty much similar to blood anyway. He slipped the canteen back into his pocket, either expecting her to have her own or be weird enough to be able to drink it neat.

What do you mean, 'us'? You mean bikers?"

Rhoan tilted his head to one side, the confused look of her face was perplexing as what the look that pretty much demanded he not lie. Something he generally avoided doing around vampyres anyway. He really was a bloody awful liar. He raised an eyebrow in question about the comment about bikers? True he hadn't know what he had been when he had been sired but that was because he was locked away and no one new where he was until Nathaniel accidentally stumbled upon him. He took in another breath of her scent and the MacAray line was definitely there and she was definitely a vampyre. His face pretty much mirrored her confused expression.

“I've never ridden a bike in my life. Wanted to, but never got around to it before I got dragged into this huge mess.”

Rhoan laughed, expecting that she knew something about what she was, in his mind it was pretty much impossible to be any other way. Nathaniel had told him over and over that what was done to him was against their laws and it was one of the few things keeping him sane to be perfectly honest. If it weren't for the mix of blood and alcohol coursing through his body this room would have been making him edgy, it was way to small.

“Have you never noticed that about the humans before though? They still are pretty much ingrained with fight or flight.”

He laughed lightly to himself, leaning back casually on the bar and looking around at the rest of the humans in the bar. Most of their attentions flicked to them on and off. Attracted to the air of danger the two vampyres stood and the bar gave off but not brave enough to just walk up to them and say anything. Rhoan liked to play with the ones who did, usually encouraged it, he loved chasing down his food but he found it hilarious when they just walked straight into it.

[anna]

Anasztásia's tongue had grown infinitely quicker and sharper in the two or three months after her ordeal, and yet, it still managed to surprise her. At every possible interval, she would say something snappy and sarcastic, and it was more than likely that the people she was speaking to would pick it up before she did. After all, who wanted to hear themselves speak? Despite her brutal wit and lethal deliverance, she was still quite a modest person. She still covered herself up, contrary to the majority of the female population of London on a night out. She didn't have esteem issues, and she didn't seek to tear people down, ruin their confidence, or frighten them off. It was just something that, of late, had been happening more often than not.

The crowds of people parted easily for her, some from a subconscious message that told them that she was dangerous, and some from politeness, or to get a better look at the tall, graceful woman that didn't seem to understand that the point of going out in London centre was to bare all to whoever glanced her way. It wasn't only her height and her attire that drew attention to her - it was also her expression. If one looked at her without a bias, there would be an odd mix of innocence and danger apparent in her features that equally drew some to her, and repelled others. She wasn't aware of this - she thought that she looked exactly how she had done since she was sixteen or seventeen.

Glass in hand, Anasztásia's eyes never left Rhoan. As she drained the contents of her nearly full glass in one smooth draught, her eyes, for just a split second, burned red. She made a small noise of contentment, and refilled the glass, using feel and intuition as she puzzled over what she had thought she'd seen. "Did you just put something in that?" She asked, getting a whiff of whatever it was that was enticing her to certain people as she breathed in. A brief look of confusion crossed her brow, and then disappeared more quickly than it had come. Her head tilted inquisitively to the side, matching Rhoan's actions exactly. She laughed lightly. "Problem?"

His words confused her yet more, brought her up short, and she pondered what they meant. Never ridden a bike? What did he mean then? Tall people? General adrenaline junkies? Brunettes? Much as she guessed, she was never going to get it right without quite a lot of help. She had never believed in all the stories about vampyres and were-animals, and they were the furthest things from her mind as she tried to logically figure out what Rhoan could possibly be talking about. And a huge mess? Anasztásia had been in one of those herself, hadn't she? Perhaps it was the same thing.... Hardly something to talk to a stranger about, though. She was just about to question him further when he spoke again.

"Have you never noticed that about humans before, though? They still are pretty much ingrained with fight or flight."

Without really thinking about what she was saying, or, to be more accurate, thinking at all

[/b] about what she was saying, Anasztásia had already responded. "Thank God they're mostly a flighty species." A couple of seconds later, one hand was at her lips, as if she wasn't sure whether or not she had really said what she had heard. The frown was back, and deeper, as she opened her mouth again, this time choosing her words carefully. "I.... I don't know why I said that.... But why do you use the term 'humans' as if we're not human ourselves?"

Then something else seemed to come over her, and she clapped a hand to her mouth again. "I'm so sorry, I've been really rude." She drained her glass a second time and held her hand out towards Rhoan. "I'm Anasztásia."

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[Rhoan MacAray]

Rhoan smirked when she noticed he had put something into his drink, although she was a little confused as to the fact she didn't know exactly what it was from just the scent and that she had to ask what it was he had put into his drink. He ran his fingers around the inside of the glass, pushing the last bits of blood back down into the half measure of alcohol still in the glass. He noted how her eyes flashed red when she drank and wondered when the last time she had fed for that to be happening so obviously. Albeit few other people would of actually noticed but Rhoan was maintaining eye contact and new too look for small signs such as that. His eyes only ever really burnt red when he was really hungry. Most of the time they where the dark almost black they where constantly.

He shook his head at their being a problem as she mimicked his movements. Holding in the flinch that naturally came from a vampyre looking predatory with him. Even though he had approached her and started this conversation he still got a knot of fear in his stomach around vampyres. A fact he was evidentially trying to rectify. Nathaniel expecting him to attend balls and with him not being directly died in to the second house he would actually have to spend hours in a room with multiple vampyres. Ones who could do far more damage than this girl in front of him could do.

The confusion on her face over his comment on bikers was really starting to perplex him. Yes vampyres put up a masquerade when they where around humans and in bars.. to an extent... but this was beyond anything he had been told about. Nathaniel generally made a point that vampyres didn't bother hiding from each other seeing as the scents of vampyres where far different to that of any human or other supernatural creature.

"Thank God they're mostly a flighty species. I.... I don't know why I said that.... But why do you use the term 'humans' as if we're not human ourselves?"

Rhoan smirked at the fact she was thankful they where mostly flighty. The rest of her sentence went straight past him for a moment as it failed to register as he was simply thinking about the first part. One thing he had noticed since he had become a vampyre was that he was very easily distracted, which tended to happen mid conversation, a lot. Flighty humans where fun when you wanted a chase, the hunts where good. But the fighters where good now and then too. It really hadn't taken long since he had spent that week with Nathaniel for him to get used to the idea of killing people without really considering it a bad thing. It was similar now to how you would go to the supermarket and pick up a pack of steak.. except he went to a club and grabbed himself a human. Before he had any chance to respond however the rest of what she had said caught up with him, he raised an eyebrow in confusion as she suddenly proffered a hand towards him.

“I'm so sorry, I've been really rude. I'm Anasztásia."

He second guessed his nose again. And his eyes... Well he generally second guessed everything any way but he thought he had been doing well today. He reached out to take her hand, dipping into a small bow. Same as he would meeting any vampyre of the courts as he had been taught to do expect this time he had a secondary objective behind simple politeness and ridiculous traditions of the courts. He dipped his head close to her hand to catch her scent fully before straightening up. The movement seeming slow for him as he had had time to her her scent but realistically he moved possibly a little too fast. Rhoan was fresh and sometimes forgot to act fully human.

Her scent however reaffirmed the fact she was a vampyre, she was either playing with him here... testing him. Or something was wrong... off. Hell he might as well go for broke. He downed his drink and reached for the bottle to top his glass up half way as he spoke

“My name is Rhoan. I refer to them as humans because we are far from that. Like you said they are mostly flighty... I do agree with out by the way. The flighty ones are good for the hunt.”

Rhoan paused to tip more of the blood from him flask into the new drink. Needing it to calm him further. He couldn't shake the feeling that something about this conversation was missing. Like they where both missing some vital fact that was needed in this conversation.

“Is there any particular reason we seem to be running through this conversation on pretences when we both know what we are?”

He leaned a little closer to her this time before taking a sip of his drink. Twisting the flask between his fingers with a level of dexterity beyond that of most humans but generally standard to a vampyre. He paused his motions slightly before uncapping the flask again and holding it towards her.

“Care for some?”