Fugue State

a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity

summer event: june 10th - August 31st
 

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 Blackened Mirror, @J-chan // Lawrence
May 28 2018, 02:45 AM
298
posts
971 Vampire Cleaner @ black market
n/a
On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man, in a dusty black coat with a red right hand. They're whispering his name through this disappearing land, but hidden in his coat is a red right hand.
Rogue
pansexual
taken // shipped // mated
Ren / 'Hey Asshole'

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Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
The drizzling was nothing that Soren particularly enjoyed, its wet, as it seeped into curls and weighted them heavily down his nape, was s sticky sensation he cared very little for. Spring would be fucking spring though, and there wasn’t much he could do about it beyond deal. It squelched his shoes a bit where they would have been silent otherwise, not a big deal as he leaned against the pale cement barrier wall of the parking garage. Half a wall and he had the whole city behind him in a stretching vista of buildings and lights all twinkling to an on that lit the place like a fairy tale. It was nothing Soren looked at as he leaned against the lip of the wall and smoked while he waited. The occasional shift of the wind would blow the hazy drizzle his way again and his shoulders would hunker and his form would shrink a bit.

A man too stubborn to simply move out of the way of nature itself.

The sound of the elevators to the far right would shift his eyes, the dark not an issue in the least as he happened to rake over the form of the man he’d been waiting for all this time. A dozen minutes maybe, though they felt like a inconvenience he could have done without. Might have been capable of avoiding had he told the man he was coming, but that would have demanded a reason, Soren didn’t just pop up into your life because he needed to vent about the neighbor who’s dog kept shitting in his front yard—

The why wasn’t anything he was capable of offering over the phone.

Pushing off the wall with a shove of his foot and his form would meet the other a few feet from Lawrence’s ridiculous car. The jut of his chin was all he gave in greeting as his fingers dug a pair (literal) of keys from his pocket. They dangled in warning a moment before he pitched them at the other man to catch. Already his feet were moving, slipped him a few steps away before he pointed at the nondescript BMW sitting across the isle from Lawrence’s car. It was nothing that looked inherently fancy, which was the point. It’d not turn heads, and yet the car itself was nothing to snub your nose at either. Shiny, it needed a good wash, something he’d not done on a specific purpose—

”Your new car,”

Slanted his gaze to Lawrence, just as promised, he’d outfit the man in a car that didn’t point a neon finger at him when he did his shady shit, not that Soren suspected much of that from Lawrence. His eyes swept down the man as he took a drag from his dwindling cigarette. He didn’t look the sort at all. ”Hope your schedule’s clear. If not, then make it clear. We've got shit to do,” another step towards the new car and Soren would pause to look at the man again, his shirt too pale and his slacks too pressed. The frown that fit to his face was careless all the while. ”You’re gonna ruin those clothes, if you have something else, bring it.

“Let’s go,”


He’d not talk openly until the car doors unlocked with the help of the key fob. The smell of leather was fresh and warm as the doors swung open. Soren’s cigarette snuffed on the pavement before he slid himself in. It looked as new on the inside as it didn’t on the outside. Pristine and clean, its lines were all crisp and shined—

”VIN numbers have been rid of, it can’t be traced back to you.”

basically, it was nothing like the dick on wheels he usually drove.

”Headed to Soma, deep south,”

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May 29 2018, 09:22 PM
111
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516 Vampire Neurosurgeon
Vampire
Maybe you think you that can hide I can smell your scent for miles
Valdit Nest
Heterosexual
Single // Unshipped

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J-Chan
She/Her/It | Mountain Standard time | 3/3/3 | J-Chan#2637
It was just passed six in the evening, and Lawrence had just finished with his last patient for this shift. A short shift, if you were wanting to know, which found him peeling himself out of a doctor’s white jacket as soon as he walked into his office. He deposited it on the rack by the door, and headed straight to his desk. Checked in with his secretary, only to find that she had left early today as well. Why was that, he wondered, pondering over in his mind some of the things she had told him the last few days. Something about the woman’s mother coming in, and the secretary had to pick her up at the airport? He was sure that was it.

It didn’t matter much, really – just that he hated forgetting things, and it was one of those things that was going to bug him until he remembered what the fuck he forgot. Oh well; there was nothing to do about it, except for him to pack up his briefcase and head home. He was tired, and what was more, he’d not had the opportunity to feed today. Tired and hungry was not a good way for him to be. Once he was home, he’d head out again after perhaps an hour, straight into bowels of the city to pick himself someone to munch on. Then the color would bleed back into his face, making him appear more human than he was definitely not. Once, but no more, and certainly never again.

Briefcase in hand, Lawrence closed the blinds, turned off the light and locked the door on the office. A glance would confirm that yes, his secretary was gone for the day, her office – which was attached to his – was dark and there was no sign of movement within it. He smiled at a couple nurses that passed him by, women who knew his name by heart and had worked with him in the past during a surgery here or there. He remembered their names. Lacey and Jenna, he thought to himself. A brunette, petite young woman with a cute face, and a tall, pale but pretty woman – it wasn’t important. But it felt good to recall their names for some reason.

Tossed into an elevator, he’d ride it to the parking garage level where he’d left his car for the day. Spilled out onto the tar mat of the parking structure a couple moments later, he’d head straight for his car, unaware of the other vampire’s presence at that particular moment. His keys were in his hand as he neared the car, fetched from his pocket and his thumb finding the door unlock button without even needing to glance down at it.

It was then that the sound of keys – that were not his own – jingling that caught his attention. Glanced over at the other vampire, caught the keys so now he was juggling two sets, and he rose an eyebrow at the other man, curious as to why he was here at the hospital. “What are you doing here, Soren? Not that I’m not pleased to see you,” he’d say, “It’s just visits from you are unexpected; however, welcome all the same.” It took a solid thirty seconds for him to realize that Soren was moving away again, away from the Lamborghini. He tracked him with his gaze to the BMW – and it was then that he put two and two together, even without Soren explaining that that was Lawrence’s new car.

“Uh, yeah, just let me put this in my car,” he did in that moment, putting the briefcase behind the driver’s seat of the Lamborghini. He then grabbed a hold of a duffel he had in there as well, removed some casual clothes from it, and then zipped it back up, stashing it back in the car before moving to catch up with Soren, a press on the Lambo’s key remote to lock the doors of the fancy, expensive car.

So he was driving, Lawrence gathered, stepping up to the BMW. He’d unlock it, and slip into the car right after Soren. Once the car was started, and they were headed out of the parking structure, it was then that Lawrence decided to break the silence that fell between them.

“So what are we going to be doing in Soma, Soren?” He’d ask, right before a thought occurred to him. Then he asked, “Did you ever find out why Evan was attacked by the way?” A question that had been on his mind for a while now.
Jun 3 2018, 10:14 PM
298
posts
971 Vampire Cleaner @ black market
n/a
On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man, in a dusty black coat with a red right hand. They're whispering his name through this disappearing land, but hidden in his coat is a red right hand.
Rogue
pansexual
taken // shipped // mated
Ren / 'Hey Asshole'

awards

murder muffin
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
There was a certain amount of trepidation in his voice when he spoke, Soren wasn’t fool enough not to catch, nor not to know what his presence meant for most that he wound up with. Job or otherwise, he was a creature that was better made for the aspect of death than even was the image of a grim reaper. The real and actual embodiment of that tall man in a dusty black cape and scythe in hand. That Lawrence was too polite to state as much was nothing he’d miss either as he stood int he expanse between vehicles for only long enough to issue orders before he spun on his heel with a soft smirk and the expectancy that the other would follow.

”Welcome wouldn’t be the word most would use,” nor did he assume it would have been Lawrence’s first, if his shirt wasn’t buttoned so tight, as they say.

The car wrapped its rich leather small around them as they slipped into its dark interior. Updated and well taken care of it was everything as unassuming as Lawrence’s car was not. The other one. The one left behind with his things. The one they couldn’t be seen driving around in, nor could Lawrence unless he fancied himself going nowhere but to work and back. A woman wronged in an alley and the choices of a man driving a Lamborghini in this city were slim enough to identify him without issue. A nondescript black BMW however? They were common as it was to find a penny on the ground, a worthless and discarded coin that awarded you nothing but the slight added weight in your pocket.

It purred to life, rumbling in a soft, sweet sound that saw them slipped from the parking garage with ease. Soren’s mind was miles away and to the south and slightly east of this place. A dark spot on his consciousness that would quirk a brow as Lawrence questioned him finally. After a why and then answering his own question without realizing—

”That’s what we’re doing in Soma,”

His tone was cool and calm as it came, arm perched on the sill of his window and he paid attention to the world more than he did the man beside him. Fingers tapping gently against the top of the door where they rested. ”I’m aware it’s not your cup of tea, but he is your friend. Figured this might be something you’re interested in,” conversationally spoken, though his voice was low and dark, a quietly shadowed thing that would see his eyes several shades darker as the city slipped by. ”What role you play, is up to you,”

The green flecked gaze of his shift to swing over to Lawrence then, in his too clean shirt and carefully maintained appearance. About as starkly different from Soren as one could get. ”Information straight from the source,” a shoulder shrugged, dismissive as his dark eyes slipped back out the window. The lights all flickering on as they drove, evening lapsing over into the shadowy night. Soren had little information on Lawrence himself, not a man that posed a threat and so he’d never seen fit to investigate anything. nor were they friends enough (though really, only one was) to see them sat down in a discussion over their past lives.

”You have any experience in torture?”

It was a brash thing to ask a man as they drove to the shady part of town, nothing that scared or swayed Soren from asking. As common to him as was the briefcase that Lawrence toted around for work. If he came back with a distinct lack of knowledge, it was nothing that they couldn’t work around. Lawrence just needed to information, decided by Soren, a man who knew the power of receiving such, directly.

A fact especially true when it came to someone cared after.

--------------------
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Jun 13 2018, 07:08 PM
111
posts
516 Vampire Neurosurgeon
Vampire
Maybe you think you that can hide I can smell your scent for miles
Valdit Nest
Heterosexual
Single // Unshipped

awards

Nobility
J-Chan
She/Her/It | Mountain Standard time | 3/3/3 | J-Chan#2637
He’d be lying if he said that there wasn’t a bit of unease in his voice. Soren didn’t show up on a whim, out of the blue, to shoot the shit with friends, let alone people with whom he could be considered on friendly terms. The man had been a nest mate, and had singlehandedly swung Lawrence from a path he’d otherwise have destroyed himself on if he continued down it. Lawrence would always be grateful for that, even though he was ever the type of person to seek out a way to live differently – a way that meant he didn’t have to kill in order to survive. He’d been terrified of himself way back when, when his sire had made him kill in order to appease her. The thing about it was that it wasn’t the act itself that made him horrified – although that did play a small part – but it was that he enjoyed it so much.

He never told Soren that – or anyone in his current nest. Very few knew that. In fact, he could count the people who knew that on one hand, his sire and his sister among them. And a part of him was afraid that if he had ever got back into the habit of feeding regularly from the vein, he felt as though he’d revert to the way he’d been before. It was a fact, a secret that he held within his mind, that his former nest had been one to decimate towns that they passed through. Always plucking a couple people from the town to turn them, his sire had an unending bloodlust from the moment she brought him into her world. He was glad to be rid of her. But was he really? Something told him he would have heard of her death, had she died.

Slipped into the car, his thoughts remaining on his sire for the first part of the ride, he glanced around the interior before starting it, the engine rumbled to life, a sound that reverberated through the parking garage. He could tell that the car for all its inconspicuousness had a bit of power underneath the hood. Noting that for later, he drove the car, getting used to the feel of it fairly quickly.

After a bit of silence, Lawrence would ask – and answer, unbeknownst to him – his question, posing it to Soren. His words caught in his throat as Soren answered him – and then Soren would give him a perfectly good explanation of why the other vampire had dragged the good doctor along on this little journey to the other side of the city. “Well, yes,” he told the other man, “He is my friend,” he added that bit unnecessarily, and then said, “Of course I would want to find out why he was attacked, who did it, and what place we’re going to bury the son of a bitch in after we’re through with him.” Dark, even for Lawrence, but it was how he felt, inwardly and outwardly. His friend didn’t deserved to be attacked, which he would have said, would that Soren have cared to the depth that the doctor did. “Jury, judge and/or executioner, you mean?” That was also something he didn’t have to say – but it was almost as if he was looking for confirmation that that is what Soren was telling him. A part of him almost hoped it was; a part he thought had been buried a long time ago, never again to resurface. Almost being the keyword.

“Some,” he asked, really not feeling as though he wanted to talk of such things, “But not much.” Lawrence, in truth, did have experience in torture – but his sire enjoyed that part about their relationship. She tortured and interrogated – he killed and cleaned up what she had started. A real healthy relationship, that. “Do you think that really necessary?” He almost didn’t want to ask it – almost – but the monster buried down deep was salivating at the idea. And Lawrence himself, the part of him that remained human, grew sick at the thought of torture. It’d never been a tactic used in the Benoit household. There was no need for that kind of thing when money loosened tongues better than torture ever thought of doing.

“I am assuming you have a lead enough that you know where we’re going?” Obviously – but something also that he needed to hear from the mouth of the vampire next to him.
Yesterday at 09:51 pm
298
posts
971 Vampire Cleaner @ black market
n/a
On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man, in a dusty black coat with a red right hand. They're whispering his name through this disappearing land, but hidden in his coat is a red right hand.
Rogue
pansexual
taken // shipped // mated
Ren / 'Hey Asshole'

awards

murder muffin
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
A low chuckle would roll from his chest, a pursed noise that included only a few of them. A rolling thunder that leaned him better back against his seat as they slipped through the city, his eyes on the everything else along the way. Though he held no doubt Lawrence was capable— anyone with fangs and the need to use them in order to survive, had a bit of monster in them. It was the depth at which it was buried for the man beside him, that Soren wondered over. Even as he so boldly stated he’d like to see this unknown man buried six feet under, it meant very little without the ability to follow through.

Lawrence was no stranger to death, even when they’d first been tossed together he’d feared it of himself and swayed himself away from anything that would brush him against it. Ridiculously wide was that net cast, but it had been a fear surrounding feeding, something Soren knew well and across species, but this wasn’t about feeding. This was about murder with the sole intent to see it done. To murder someone without care for their end and for the express purpose of it. It boiled down to the care this other had over his friend and the length at which he’d go to see a man righted after he’d been so clearly wronged.

He seemed willing, but only time would tell how well that translated.

“It’s my job,”

Stated as if they didn’t know, the either of them.

Weren’t aware that his day began and ended with the dip of his fingers in the sticky red of blood. There was nothing so obvious in all this world that Soren’s affinity for death, something the world took grave advantage of. Though his hybrid knew the truth, it wasn’t anything that thrilled him as it might have once had. It was a thing that he did, efficiently and without care after his own soul. One that was already destined to a middle ground, no matter how tattered and torn it was, so what did he honestly care? There was only ever one fear that came with his way of life, that it would blow back and taint the man he attached himself to.

If you assumed he never thought of this while he was fist deep in someone’s chest, you were entirely wrong.

That Lawrence had little experience with torture was nothing that contradicted his thoughts on the man, though he would wonder after the depth of it. Time would easily tell this as well and without the needed foray into his past that was likely needed of either and both of them. Soren nodded, a soft gesture as he waved the man off to the side and around a corner as they lapsed from the easy and bright, breezy downtown to the putrid stink of Soma. Not yet far enough south to see it as the creeping mold it was upon this city, but it was a blight even as it rose up before them. Packed full of warehouses and once you passed the stadium it became a home for everything dark and depraved.

It was everywhere that spoke of the end of life, where the bay looked full of its beginnings.

Did he think it was necessary?

“No.”

There was a dark in his tone that seemed not to care much over the necessity at all. A man who cared and where the world liked to depict him without it, as much so as he’d rather that it did, he was capable. “I’m more than capable of avenging your friend, and my time, if you’d rather not, matters little to me,” a shrug and he’d settle in a little as they crawled through the streets of this shadowed area, his eyes watching the streets and their shifting silhouettes. The monsters that resided here were never too keen on sharing their dark. Not even with fellow monsters.

“He’s already detained, in a warehouse a dozen blocks down,” the hard part seemingly over and he’d sigh gently. “I’ve no doubt there’ll be more of them,” in case Lawrence was let down at all that he’d not get to skulk around in the night like a proper villain. It was a thought amusing as Soren motioned around a corner and to the end of the street that spit them so far south he was sure Lawrence would feel his skin crawl the moment they stepped out of the car.

The warehouse was in poor condition, nothing that seemed to house much more than rot—

Its insides and the feel of magic that brushed over them as they entered would prove that looks were so often deceiving and that this moment was no different than most of the others. Solid even as it creaked, its insides were packed full of shelves and products the likes of which were mostly mysterious brown boxes. It was to the rear of the warehouse they’d walk and to a door that would swing open into a room. A man sat there, in a chair and pinned to the floor via chains that sizzled against his skin.

Iron was never too kind to the fae.

“Hello again, Ryder,”

--------------------
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