The color of their eyes

[maricarceneau]

A Slave until The End of his Time

Maric was rarely given any time for himself anymore. If the demon wasn’t at his back, he found himself surrounded by people who thought of him as their friend and ally. Who thought they could trust him. A low sigh escaped his lips as he heaved the remaining content of the beer bottle down his throat. It was his third bottle this night. His body was worn down from the constant travelling, the constant uncertainty if the day was going to be his last. No doubt, most hunters had these thoughts – these troubles. But his fear didn’t come from the thought of being killed by the hand of something supernatural, but rather at the hand of the very people he was surrounded by tonight. He glanced around ever so slightly, without ever stopping long enough on the people around him to draw attention to himself. He wasn’t sure he could keep the pretence up.

At the sound of laughter, Maric’s head turned to watch the two couples by the pool tables. From the looks of it, the boys had just lost to their girlfriends. An ever so thin smile pulled at the corners of his mouth at the sight. He’d done something similar once with his wife, Camille. He turned his eyes to the empty bottle in front of him. It had been so many years since his normal life had been swept away from under his feet. He could barely remember the facial features of the very wife he’d been made to kill. So it was true then, that as the years passed the details of his past life would fade until all he could remember was a family that he’d once had. A family without faces. It hadn’t gone that far yet, he still remembered her green, bright eyes. The warmth in them as she’d looked at him with her smile and that long, wavy red hair. Their son had gotten her eyes as well. Maric frowned. Or had he? He couldn’t remember. A sudden wave of shame washed over him. By the gods, he couldn’t even remember his own sons face clearly anymore.

Maric raised his hand, catching the attention of the bartender as he did. “Can I have one more?” He mumbled once the bartender was close enough to hear his request. All he got in response was a slight nod. It seemed the man had caught up on his mood, not wanting to get dragged down. Seconds later a cold beer was put down in front of him. Maric didn’t hesitate but grabbed the bottle and drank about 1/3 of its content in one sweep. He dealt with his emotions the only way he knew; by drinking. As he’d done the last couple of years. As laughter once more broke out from the pool tables behind him, Maric rolled his eyes. He wasn’t really in the mood for getting a headache. Picking up a smoke from his jacket pocket earned him a warning glare from the bartender. Maric only raised an eyebrow as he put it in between his lips. He usually didn’t smoke, but that – like many other things – had become a bad habit of his during the last few years.

As he was looking for a lighter, Maric noted the bartender approaching him from the corner of his eyes. He didn’t even bother looking up as the man spoke to him. “Hey, pal, smoking’s not allowed in here. Take it outside.” Maric snorted and shook his head in return. He finally found his lighter, and began trying to light it. Only when the bartender put one of his hands on Maric’s shoulder did he look up. “Get your hand off me, ‘pal.’” He warned with a hint of anger in his voice. It was, no doubt, the booze talking. He returned to trying to light his smoke once again. Maric knew better than to pick a fight, yet here he was – once again unable to control the built up anger inside of him. As the bartenders grip on his shoulder tightened, he got up on his feet. “I said, no smoking inside.” His eyes locked with the other, slightly more muscular, man. “Does it look like I give a shit about what you say?”

[Kat Cora Neverov]

Uh-Oh Here She Comes. Watch Out Boy She'll Chew You Up.[/color][/size]

The night had been an eventful one. The women had been twins, and lovely as dusk; flaming red hair and porcelain skin. They'd taken a tumble in a hotel room down the block before she had put them to sleep and eaten them alive. Innocence was still a coppery tang on the back of her tongue; rich and sweet, just like
-they- had been.
And now that the human flesh and blood was moving rapidly through the witch’s body; feeding the ancient tissues and igniting the elemental nerve endings that made her feel, Cora was starting to resemble herself again.
Katarina Cora Neverov; usually a monster, was something like a woman. The uncontrollable tempest that usually rolled violently in her head had stilled to a meager thunderstorm; the insanity merely tugging lightly at her gut instead of ripping at her belly with razor sharp talons.
Crystalline emerald eyes roamed the club like a predator tracking its prey, but as her hunger was staved for the moment, prey meant entirely something different to the gypsy.
The smell of sweet liquor, sweat and desire was thick in the air; almost as much as an intoxicant as the blood that had settled nice and warm in her belly; stained the underside of her scarlet painted fingernails a deeper shade of crimson.

The witch slid in to a stool at the bar and leaned backwards on it; sipping slowly at her drink and swishing the lucid liquor around over her tongue. A slight wince came to her merciless face, and in disappointed she set the tumbler down and then tapped her long fingernails on the mahogany counter in order to get the distracted tender’s attention. Recoiling as if his inattentiveness had been the worst of crimes, the bartender nodded and retrieved a bottle of top shelf Russian Vodka, pouring the liquid into her glass before
slipping away to attend to the next customer.
Cora wrapped a cold white hand around the glass and took a long pull; letting out a sigh of satisfaction as the icy liquid went down her throat like a winter kiss. It settled in her belly cool and invigorating, and started a nice buzz in her frenzied head.

Once again Cora’s jade gaze roamed the crowd, and she inhaled deeply; allowing the mingling scents to invade her nostrils; picking out the one she was looking for like a wild beast would tracking it’s target. A whisper of a smile curved her ruby lip when she found the unique aroma of the one that she was looking for. Stale smoke and the faintest hint of dried blood from the scabbing track marks on the inside of his arm; the drug addicted hunter was easy to find. The human was rotting from the inside out; self inflicted disease from all the drugs he had taken into his body.

And Cora meant to push him just a little further into the grave.

This drug addicted hunter had been had been stalking -her- for quite some time.
It was laughable that here she was now, their proximity so close she could smell his repugnance, and yet he had no idea his target was sitting mere few feet away.
One would think a female, even a witch of her prowess and power, would not tempt the Fates so much as to surround herself with the very humans that would extinguish the light in her eyes, but she was a different kind of woman. A woman that begged for violence, pain, and chaos.
And a game every now and then.
The hunter was high on his drugs tonight and not much of a challenge, but surrounded by so many of his kind Cora figured it would be more sport this way than in some deserted back alley. He could try and kill her if he wanted -or- he could give into the unique gift she could offer him…for a price.

The gypsy placed her drink on the counter and went to move towards the junkie, but was halted by the empty voice of another man at the bar. She watched the exchange between the hollow eyed man and the bartender, and the murmur of a smile tilted up one corner of her lips. Ah, perfect. A show before the main event.

“Isn’t the customer always supposed to be right?” She interrupted them, sliding over three stools to sit closer, and arching a perfectly manicured black brow at the tender. Her scarlet nails clicked absently on the counter once more and her eyes drifted momentarily to mouse in her game before settling back on the man behind the bar with playful smile.
Cora reached over to run a finger along the lip of an empty beer bottle that and tilted her head coyly, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she adjusted the sleeve of her shirt slipping over her shoulder. “I want a smoke too. Do we really have to go?”

X X X X X X X
-Click Me-

[maricarceneau]

A Slave until The End of his Time

The blood pumped through Maric’s veins, fast and warm. He could feel the adrenalin pushing the extra energy into his system. Mixing with the alcohol he had already taken up, it could turn into quite a mess. He was getting really worked up, he knew it – could feel it itch in his fingers. A restlessness he didn’t really know how to handle. And while he knew that it would only be trouble if he stirred a scene, he really couldn’t – didn’t want to – stop any of it. In a way, it felt good about having somebody to direct his anger at. Even if said somebody didn’t really have anything to do with him, nor had done him any wrong. Actually, he’d never seen the man before in his entire life. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It wouldn’t be much of a surprise to Maric if he learned about the using hunter that was in the bar. After all, he was an addict himself – though to alcohol. He couldn’t focus, or work, without at least a little bit of it in his blood stream. Taking a sip in the morning had become part of his day, it was the first thing he did in the morning. That a lot of them got addicted to different things to be able to pull through the day weren’t surprising, they saw things that most humans had no clue existed. They had to fight them with their lives on the line. Hell, he’d had nightmares for a long time after seeing his first ghost. Nobody could blame them for seeking out ways to relax themselves, right? There was nothing wrong with that.

As Maric stared into the eyes of the bartender, back-up was just about the last thing that he’d expected. As the woman’s voice broke through, his eyes broke the contact with the bartenders and turned to hers. A delighted smile appeared on his face, washing away part of the frustration he’d been about to unleash on the bartender through shouting. “You ought to learn from the lady.” He added, his arms crossing over his torso as he did. It was a bar after all; usually people were allowed to smoke in bars. Most of the customers probably smoked themselves, so how could they be bothered – right? The bartender too seemed to soften up a bit as the woman had interrupted them. “Smoking’s not allowed, miss, take it outside. I won’t say it again.”

Glancing around, Maric started looking for a place in the bar that would draw little attention from the bartender. He was in no mood to step outside to smoke. The weather outside wasn’t exactly pleasant. It had just started to rain before he’d gotten roof over his head. So no, he had no plans on going outside. He was going to have a smoke though, no matter what the prick behind the bar said. As though admitting defeat, Maric took the smoke from the corner of his mouth and let it slide down into his pocket. “Fine, we get it.” From the looks of it, the bartender wasn’t entirely convinced. But he soon returned to his waiting customers. “Sourpuss.” He muttered under his breath.

Maric rolled his eyes and turned to gaze at the woman who’d stepped in for him. He rummaged through his pocket for a while before finding the smoke, along with his cigarette package. “You wanted a smoke?” He offered with partially raised eyebrows. From Maric’s current point of view, he was at the top of the world. Nobody would tell him what he could and couldn’t do. Rules were meant to be broken. He’d heard that saying ever since he’d been a kid. He glanced over at the bartender, his attention still distracted by other customers’ orders. Looking back, his eyes fixed upon the woman’s green ones. For a moment, he reminisced his wife once more. It was, no doubt, the last time he’d haunt her tonight. Without thinking twice about it he lit his smoke. “Oh, where are my manners? The name’s Maric.” He nodded a little as a courteous greeting.

[Kat Cora Neverov]

Uh-Oh Here She Comes. Watch Out Boy She'll Chew You Up.[/color][/size]

Cora lifted the tumbler to her scarlet mouth, taking in a nice long pull as she watched the two men around the lip. The male sitting at the bar seemed to have his cord pulled very, very tight. She wondered how long the bartender would take to snap that inner rope so that the real fun could begin. Maybe it would come to blows. Cora would have loved to see that. Men fighting with their fist was so freaking adorable. A little mundane, but like pups nipping at one another’s heels. Oh! Oh! Oh! Maybe one of them would pull out a gun! In a bar full of hunters that wasn’t unheard of…and if an innocent bystander was wounded or worse, killed, how splendid would that be?!

The unabashed smile on the face of the patron made her smirk around the glass a little and she lofted a raven brow, catching an ice cube with her tongue and snaking it into her mouth to chew. Humans; especially men, were so easy. Though some of them just pretended to be; the witch wondered what type of man this one was.
She nodded like a good little witch when he supported her argument, wondering if he was one of the hunters that loved to set her kind on fire. It didn’t matter really; any one was fair game in her sport. Humans, vampires, werewolves…they all felt pain and could give it just as good.

The raven haired witch smirked when the bartender failed to buy her doe-eyed female trick, and clicking her tongue against her teeth, swiveled in her stool to face Maric better.
She shook her dark head when he offered the cigarette pack to her, the impish smile that stretched over her face belying the purely devious thoughts going through her mind. “No, not really. I just thought I could get him to give in a little if I tried but I guess he’s not that into women…”
Her jade eyes rolled towards the tender who was now watching them; seemingly waiting for another opportunity to ruin their night. She gave her brilliant gaze back to the hunter and tilted her head coyly, the corner of her crimson mouth slanted up in a mischievous expression. “Besides, those things will kill you…”
A wry chuckle of amusement was drawn out of her throat and she lofted a manicured brow, fingering the lip of her tumbler with a pale digit. “But then...I guess the best things in life will do that, wont they?”

The witch was talking mostly about herself. She could make dreams come true and then she could take them away. She could make a person feel something near pure rapture and then she could turn it to severe misery. But pain was pleasure…wasn’t it?

“Cora…it’s a pleasure.” The sorceress outstretched her alabaster hand to him at the same time her emerald gaze drifted towards the bartender, who was now talking to two HUGE bouncers that were looking right at them.
“And that good behavior won’t get you very far. Better put on the mean face. Here comes trouble.” With that she nodded to the two mean headed around the bar towards them.
Coming around to their backs, one put a big palm on Maric’s shoulder, and the other on Cora’s upper arm.

“Its time to go. Both of you.” Beefcake number one said to Maric, and then cast a serious look towards the witch. “Now.”

X X X X X X X
-Click Me-

[maricarceneau]

A Slave until The End of his Time

While Maric didn’t really have any issues with starting a fight, there were times when one had to pass. This being one of those times. He didn’t need the attention, simply because all the other hunters in here would be future targets of his. As such, it was good to stay anonymous. That made blending in much easier, and he could play just about any role without having to think twice about everything he was doing. He wasn’t in all this for thrills; he was in it for a cause. He had a reward waiting for him at the end of the rainbow, so to speak. And it wasn’t gold. So the easier the job was, the better it would be for him. This time, however, the alcohol had a slight influence over his thoughts and his actions. He could just go out and smoke, but if smoking indoors would annoy the lovely bartender he wouldn’t. Yes, even Maric did things to simply be an arse sometimes.

Surprise passed over Maric’s face as the woman turned down his offer. He shrugged. It was her choice, after all. Taking the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, he blew out some smoke that slowly made its way to the roof. He noted that a few glanced his way, but none of them seemed to keen on telling him to back off. Well, he didn’t mind. Looking back at the woman as she explained herself, he nodded. “I owe you one, then. Thought it didn’t work out as planned.” He stated thoughtfully. It was only within Maric’s nature to doubt every person he came across. After all, he couldn’t know if their intentions were pure or not. And with the world he lived in, who could blame him – really?

As the woman continued talking, this time patronizing the smokes he chuckled and shook his head in response. “I’ll be more likely to die in a car-crash before these babies extinguishes my life.” Maric wasn’t really worried about the side-effects from smoking. He was likely to be dead even before he was 40. Just not by the hands of a car, or the smokes, but rather because of either the hands of the supernatural or the hunters themselves. Sooner or later, someone would figure out that he was involved in the killings. He hoped for a different outcome but it felt inevitable. Or perhaps he overestimated his opponents too much. His attention returned to the black-haired beauty in front of him. “I’ll drink to that.” He smiled.

Maric couldn’t quite put the finger on it, but there was something about this woman that seemed a little… off. Like there was something about her, that he shouldn’t trust her. No, he’d probably just had too much to drink. His hand grabbed hers gently as she’d introduced herself. But not long after were they interrupted. He raised his eyebrow as his shoulder once more was molested by the hand of a stranger. “Touchy.” He mumbled and looked up at the bouncer. “You know, I’d rather you didn’t touch me – you filthy shit.” Maric smiled sweetly as he put his hand upon the bouncers. He grabbed the man’s finger and quickly twisted them. His plan worked, and the man withdrew his hand. “There, much better.” He said with an undertone of satisfaction. Enjoying his victory further, he managed to get up behind the second bouncer and aim a good kick at his knee. The man didn’t have much choice except to kneel. “Now apologize for grabbing the lady.” He grinned.

The small victory was very momentary for Maric as bouncer #1 saw his chance and locked a big arm around Maric’s throat. The battle was lost that very instance, at least for him. He, almost desperately, tried to get out of it but gave up as his air-supply only kept getting cut off. Relaxing a little, and showing that he was indeed giving up, made the bouncer give in a little in order for Maric to be able to breathe normally. The second bouncer, now up on his feet again, dealt him a fair blow to the stomach – followed by one to his face. The only thing that escaped Maric’s lips was a choked cough. As he was dragged towards the door, he only made little resistance. Moments later he found himself literally thrown out. Luckily he managed to stay on his feet, and not end up on his face. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. Shortly joined by his partner in crime, whom he really didn’t know, he smiled in attempt to forget about what had just happened. “I doubt I’ll be welcome back there anytime soon. But, at least I have my smoke.” He waved it a little as he still held it in his hand. “A small victory for the red team, yay?” He chuckled. Oh god, his stomach was sore from the punch. Not to mention he had probably earned a black eye from that sucker punch.