World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - Pre-Season Party (Completed)

[William Rose]

August 1st, 11:00 am

The smell of BBQ and Creole cooking swirled through the air and drifted with the westward wind deep into the campus. Early August meant that most of the people on campus were either involved with sports, were upperclassmen that lived there year round, or freshmen arrived early for the last orientation sessions. Whatever the case was if you were on the east side of campus you could probably smell the food already. As Antoine tasted the jambalaya bins of ice were set out on the lawn and filled with cans of beer and soda. Meanwhile trashcans were filled with ice to cover the kegs within while others were lined with plastic as members of the frat works alcoholic alchemy to produce jungle juice; a mixture that is remarkably cheap to produce and remarkably high in alcohol content.

11:30 am

People were already starting to show up for a bite to eat and a couple of drinks during their lunch hour. The real crowd wouldn’t form for another hour or so. Jeff, the frat president, took the responsible job of taking money and stamping those legal to drink. Not that it would stop the underage from getting booze but it waived the frats liability for letting people in without checking first. The guys manning the kegs and the bar would check and make a show of it but in the end it didn’t matter and anybody underage who became over-served would be dealt with swiftly to avoid bringing trouble down on the house.

1:30 pm

The party was hopping, out back the pool was in use and coeds were enjoying one of the last stress-free days before classes started up. Antoine handed the ladle over to somebody else and wandered off, drink in hand, to mingle.

[Astra D.]

Reva rolled her eyes, flipping over onto her stomach as she lay sprawled full-length on Morgan's bed. Her mother had always said she had "good hair," and today her short China doll bob was interspersed with electric blue braids that swayed as she shook her head.

"A frat party," she drawled. "At one o'clock in the afternoon. Before the semester even starts? Morgan, sweetie, you've gotta be kidding me."

"Look," Morgan began, pulling on the laces of a well-worn black boot as she balanced her foot against the dresser. "If nothing else, the beer's free. We might as well get it while it's one: cold, and two: abundant. Besides, it's almost one-thirty. Five o'clock somewhere, right?" Her crimson-painted lips curved into a mischievous grin as she knotted her boot laces with a final tug.

"But... Morgan." The petite drummer stared at her friend meaningfully. "A frat party?"

It was a fair question, and Morgan knew exactly where this was headed.

"I know. But, it's not like it's Sigma Pi or something. Anyway," she continued, shrugging as she grabbed her meticulously-forged (and fairly expensive) fake ID and tucking it into the front pocket of her messenger bag, "it's after noon and we're still sober. Something is definitely wrong with this picture."

Her smile wavered for a moment as she slung the bag over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Reva winced in sympathy.

"Still hurts, huh?" she asked softly.

"Every day," Morgan replied grimly, grasping her friend's hand and leading her across campus, following the scent of roasting meat that lingered in the late summer air.

[Owns-The-Night]

Dressed in clean white t-shirt and faded jeans, he hesitated on the sidewalk, deliberating. The pshrink at the V.A. had told him that it would be a good idea to get out more, to mingle with people. But it was easier said than done, especially for a therapist that didn't have the full story. Part of Declan's support from the V.A. was dependant on him making an effort to "rehabilitate". But, he thought darkly how do you rehabilitate a werewolf? Lycanthropes Anonymous?

About 30 feet away at the frat house, the party was already starting to get going. Music could be heard, splashing and laughter rode on the wind and, most importantly, beer and cooking meat could be scented. Despite himself, Declan felt the urge to drool. He had been out late last night, ranging across the campus in wolf-shape, searching out trouble. There was little danger of being spotted: his senses were up to the task of finding half-blind, half-deaf humans before they trod on his tail. He had slept in, having woken, showered and shaved a short time ago. He rasped his hand over his damn 5 o'clock shadow. It grew back within an hour or two, always had. He had put it down to having a heavy beard growth before. Now he knew it was because he was Uratha.

Still he hesitated. He hadn't really thought this through, his legs carrying him here unbidden. He knew the reason, but his mind worked to rationalise his motives in a manner more pleasing to the lone wolf. He was here to scope out possible troublemakers for his territory over the coming year. He was here for the food and beer. He was here to stare at co-ed girls in bikinis. Yeah, all good reasons for attending, despite being probably about as at home at a party as a fish was at a mountaineer convention. Nowhere in his conscious mind did he allow to register the simple, stark truth.

He was lonely.

He checked his back pocket, feeling the small sketchpad and pencil there as a comforting presence. He felt a couple of people staring at him from the shade of the house, and glanced their way briefly. Two young men were lounging there and exchanging words with sly smiles as they regarded the groundskeeper. They had noticed his hesitation: they thought he was funny, huh? He inwardly snarled and hardened his gaze, staring the two tough-looking punks down. Think I'm funny, you little shits? I could unzip your fucking guts in the time it takes you to scream. For a brief moment, his silver-grey eyes contained the menace of a challenged predator, uncompromising and ferocious. The two youths looked away, uneasy and unwilling to meet the challenge offered, and the moment passed.

Declan kept his eyes on them for a moment longer, then moved up the path to the entranceway. He shoved $10 into the bucket and nodded to the guy taking the money. Five minutes later he was leaning on the porch railing, tearing into some ribs as his eyes scanned the people.

[z-Amber Wren]

Amber hadn't meant to come. This was the worst place on earth for her; heroin had been her drug of choice, but alcohol was another tempting thing. And then there were the markings.

Amber was currently staring at a tree across the street from the frat house, eyeing the marking on the trunk. To most people, it looked like an animal had gone to town. To Amber, it was a giant red flag being waved that said, This is MINE! Stay away! And she intended to, but after walking down the length of Hilgard and having to detour to Wyton because the unknown Uratha had claimed a single house, she was a bit curious about the wolf. And there was one, or one doing all the marking.

Amber shook off her thoughts. Maybe later she could investigate the UCLA Uratha or pack and see who it or they was. For now, she needed to relax. She'd woken up from a dream today, halfway through a transformation. She'd decided that the stress of her life was getting to her. Hence, the party: her plan was to avoid drugs and simply have some fun and hopefully get laid. Anty-Thing - the name that Amber called her spirit ally in her head - was guarding things, so it should be alright.

She hoped.

One of the few things about always being high was that you didn't sweat the little things. Or the big things, really. It had been a good way to live, from the perspective of emotional stress management. She missed it a little, right now.

Amber checked her blue shirt, making sure the ties were secured right. It was a backless shirt, held in place by a tie around her neck and another across her back, and it'd be all too easy to flash someone unintentionally. She hoped that the shirt wasn't too slutty, though she suspected it was.

She shrugged. Fuck it. She couldn't replace her wardobe, and they'd just have to deal with it. Her heeled sandals clicked as she turned and walked up the walk-

She froze as she caught a hint of something. She wasn't sure what it was, but her nose itched to become wolfy, to get a better wiff. Of course, that was out of the question. Still, her olfactory nerves were tapping on her brain, begging to be released.

Amber sighed and tossed her hair back, feeling her big hoops bounce against her neck. No way around it; she had to let it go. You're on break. Relax. Giving the man at the door a toothy grin, she pushed past him and walked inside. The smell of meat, pheromones and booze shot through her brain, igniting impulses like a sighthound seeing a rabbit running across a field. Without thought, Amber went on the hunt.

[Emma L. Carter]

Emma Carter laid on her bed, headphones in here ears, while staring at the white ceiling above her. It was a much, much brighter color than she wanted but given the rules about having a dorm room and a room mate, there was not much she could do about it for the moment. Over the preceding months she found that she was afraid to go outside. There was always the chance that another Changeling would cross her path and see her for her true self. She was different. She was no longer a human.

The techno music blasted in Emma's ears, so as her room mate spoke Emma could hear none of it. Her room mate was an average girl, brown hair, always happy to please. She had been preparing for the party by using a good portion of the morning and the entirety of the bathroom to shower, put on make-up, all that stuff that she thought she had to do to make herself look good. They would discussed the party barely, and Emma's room mate really thought Emma should go. "Who knows? Maybe you'll have a good time" Brianna, the room mate, called from the bathroom. Emma remained blissfully ignorant. "And if you go I will have someone to talk to and an escape plan" Brianna was pleading, but no response would come from Emma. After a few moments, Brianna poked her head out of the bathroom to see Emma with headphones on. She waved her hands and shouted a 'Hello!?' which, as planned, got Emma's attention. She turned off the music and sat up with her legs crossed.

"No! I am NOT going to that party" Emma said, standing for what she thought was right.

"Come on" Brianna pleaded, with an intricate mix of laughter and sadness.

"No" Emma shouted, smiling. There was a bang on the wall behind her, a sign that the neighbors were getting fed up with the shouting. Emma released a short laugh, something that she didn't do much. "No, you cannot make me go to that party. Brianna gave a mischievous smile. Emma got up onto her knees, finally taking off her large headphones. "No.. " She said. This was more of a plead for Brianna. "Don't say it"

Brianna kept smiling. "Come on, I know its what you want. And I'll let you do it if you come to the party. "

Emma looked pissed.

-----------

Emma and Brianna walked towards the frat house. They could smell the barbecue from their dorm, so it was easy to follow the scent. It was the scent, however, that was making Emma nauseous. She would not eaten meat for years and everyone she knew in San Francisco was very respective of that. Emma didn't look to happy, but Brianna was shinning. Emma was wearing a dark grey tank top which looked as if someone put straps onto a tank top so whomever was wearing it could get it even tighter. Her hair hung down straight from the top of her head reaching to her mid back. Her pants were baggy and black. Emma hoped to the gods that she would not make a spectacle of herself. As she entered the party and got the large X on her hand in permanent marker, she took survey of the party and thought she was going to throw up. All she wanted to do was to find some place quiet and lay in the grass.

[William Rose]

Approximately 3 pm ...

Antoine, beer in hand, walks outside. He scans around noting faces familiar and not. He sees Morgan and makes a note to swing by and say hi, find out when would be best for him to stop by and pose for her. In the meantime though he walks over to Declan, one of the grounds keepers. "Hey man, nice to see you here. Declan right? I just wanted to say thanks for keeping the football field in top shape, I know myself and the rest of the team appreciate it. Can I get you anything? Another beer? Some food?" Antoine's smile is genuine, he really does appreciate the work done on the field to keep it in shape, playing on a well maintained field is a joy when compared to one that isn't. He's aware that Declan has a reputation and that some people think he's insane or something but being from the south a little common kindness was in Antoine's blood, and what hard could it do anyways.

[Astra D.]

Ugh, Morgan thought as she squinted through the cherry-red lenses of her sunglasses, forcing a smile to plaster itself across her equally crimson lips as she shifted slightly in the lawn chair. The black mesh of her stockings stood out in sharp contrast against the long, pale legs visible beneath the short, short black vinyl skirt which creaked out a soft protest as she crossed one knee over the other. There were a lot of new faces, and some pretty familiar ones. "Crazy Perault" had even shown up, and she could see the broad shoulders of UCLA's star quarterback talking to him for some ungodly reason. If I'd known an hour ago I'd be stuck listening to this idiot... And where the hell is Reva?

"...So, yeah. I got him to sign my shirt, and-"

"I'm gonna go get another drink. 'Kay?" Morgan smiled tautly, waving her half-empty cup in front of the long-haired guy in the 'sk8r d00d' t-shirt. Twenty minutes of listening to him try to impress her with his concert experiences had left her feeling much, much more thirsty than she should be so early in the afternoon. Whatever they'd been mixing in the giant bowl packed a decent punch, but it was cold, it was wet, and it was on the opposite side of the party from this guy.

She rose, gingerly tugging down the hem of her skirt as she passed Long Hair with a brisk wave, and he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was intensely interested in the glossy black material as it moved over her thighs.

There we go... That looks more like it, she noted, making her way through the crowd of half-dressed bodies toward the table and the booze. There was a decent cluster of people lingering around the punchbowl, and for good reason. With another quick gulp, she licked her lips, tossed her hair back over her shoulder, and sauntered up for a refill.

[Owns-The-Night]

Declan had tensed and looked up at Antoine when approached, an almost feral reaction. No midget himself, he felt dwarfed by the large Southerner, an uncomfortable feeling that made his hackles rise, despite the fact that his human skin didn't even have hackles.

He forced himself to breath out, his broad shoulders visibly untensing, as the man's tone and demeanour were friendly, sincere, and not in the least threatening. The actual meaning of the words took a few moments longer to sort itself out: being a creature of instinct meant that you tended to listen to the How of what people said, their body language, tone, and expression; before you digested the What. It was an effective anti-bullshit device, but didn't exactly make you quick with the small talk.

"Erm... A beer would be good... Thanks." His voice was low and quiet. "I'm fine for chow. Glad you guys like the field." He'd never played football except in the impromptu games his unit held on-base, but he enjoyed watching the Bruins play on 'his' field. He didn't know what else to say... Oh yes. "Give the other teams some hell this season, ok?"

He looked around as Antoine turned away to grab a beer, catching sight of a stunning brunette dressed to mass-murder heading across the lawn to the punch bowl. Male instincts piqued, he watched the sway of Morgan's hips as she moved, his gaze intent. In the half-shade of the porch his eyes glittered like silver dollars for a long moment as they caught the sunlight.

[William Rose]

Originally Posted By: Declan Perault

"Give the other teams some hell this season, ok?"

Antoine laughs, a pleasing sound despite the deep tone to his voice, "You bet your ass... I'll go get you that beer." With that he moved off toward the booze. The man was an odd one to be sure but there was no reason to think he was crazy. Maybe he only acted that way because everybody avoided him. A vicious cycle if I ever saw one. Bet the dude just needs to get laid... woah, holy damn...

All rational thought ground to a screeching halt as Antoine came up behind Morgan. He couldn't help but appreciate how she looked. Morgan might put effort into standing out but she made it look good to do so. Antoine didn't realize it but he slowed down as he walked toward her. While he did so he took in her curves, the long legs with the fishnet stocking, the skirt that was dangerously close to being a belt instead. Woah, and she's just a sophomore. Wonder what another year could do to that body.

He shook his head clear and sidled up beside her, his massive form casting a shadow over her. As he began to pump the keg he smiled toward her. "Hi, you're Morgan right? Antoine, I think I volunteered to model for you."

[Astra D.]

Originally Posted By: Antoine LaSalle

As he began to pump the keg he smiled toward her. "Hi, you're Morgan right? Antoine, I think I volunteered to model for you."

The deep voice rumbled pleasantly in her ears, and Antoine's languid, characteristically Louisianan accent was utterly charming to the California native.

"Antoine," she repeated, letting the French name roll off her tongue with a faint smile. "Right. I'm Morgan."

Her red lips pursed, and with her free hand she slid her sunglasses lower on the bridge of her nose to study him for a moment. Far from predatory, her gaze was more akin to that of an architect assessing the structure of a building than a vixen sizing up a particularly well-built male specimen.

Green eyes traced the tall football player's physique for a few long and somewhat awkward moments as she took a sip from her cup.

Good muscle tone, robust build... Christ. This guy is built like Atlas.

"You'll make a good subject, I think," she added finally, pushing her sunglasses up again and flashing him a glimpse of white teeth as she grinned. "I'd ask for a couple of preliminary sketches while you're here, but all work and no play makes Morgan a very dull girl."

Her slim black brows arrowed together in a frown, as if she'd suddenly remembered something.

"Speaking of... I don't suppose you've got somewhere I can put this?"

She glanced pointedly down at the black messenger bag draped over her shoulder.

[z-Amber Wren]

[OOC: post moved to help with time flow]

[William Rose]

Antoie watched her watching him. What he did not watch was the beer he was pouring and sudsy liquid soon frothed over his hand. "Darnit ..." he quickly dropped the tap and transferred the beer to his clean hand before shaking the other of the excess moisture. Smooth move dipshit, better hope that she isn't "Ashe" ... Antoine smiled, marred by embarassment it ended up being charmingly goofy instead of just straight charming. "Umm ... yeah I think I can find a place ... nothin' super valuable in here right?"

He took the bag from her and then a pair of cup with beer. "I'll put it into the linen cloest inside, nobody will look in there and there's not room to make out inside anyways." With a smile he headed inside by way of Declan dropping off one of the beers.

8:30 pm

The party was in full swing, upperclassmen who were working summer jobs or internships had arrived and the evening was starting to cool down. The BBQ was still going strong as Antoine came out of the house a beer cup in his teeth and a massive pot of jambalaya in his arms. He made his way to the food area and dropped the new pot on the burner. He gave it a quick taste and his blessing before heading off to get another drink and find some scenery. He didn't bother seeking out Morgan. Sure she was hot but she looked at him clinically, clearly her intrest in his body was limited to its appearance.

As he moved through the crowd he wondered if "Ashe" were here. He wouldn't even know it is he walked right by her. They had yet to exchange pictures of each other. In part because it was fun to get to know somebody without the limitations of physical appearance and the inevitable response that generated. He breifly contemplated if Morgan could be her and then decided that was more his pants thinking than his own. He spied a group of cheerleaders and corrected course to avoid them. A little more substance than that would be required for a girl to be "Ashe".

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Emerging from the soil once more, Sarah's first thought was exactly that as when she had fallen into death-like slumber: to go take a look at the marked-off house and wait for one of the occupants to step outside the bounds. But thumping music from the next yard over, and the strong scents of both barbeque and booze wafting by on the wind, caught her attention. Peering through the thick shrubs surrounding the place, she saw the source: a full-on, no-holds-barred college beer bash. Licking her lips at the opportunity, she carefully eased her way through the bushes, made sure nobody had seen her, then spared a moment for a once-over.

The jeans were criminal. Loose at the ankle, they were all but painted on at the hip, and rode just low enough to show a bit of taut stomach below the "UCLA Athletics Dept." T-shirt so long as she left the denim jacket open. Her trusty black boots gave just the right touch of attitude. All in all, the effect was a good one for one of these affairs: enough to draw in prey without standing completely out in the crowd. Reassured, she began an easy walk around the edge of the yard to a point more or less near the house, then entered the thronging masses of the party.

Only once she was in proximity did Sarah remember the last crucial bit; hesitating for a moment, she forced vitae out to the surface of her skin, giving the dead flesh a rosy tinge and just the right touch of warmth in the summer evening. Her chest - free of any bra, if a touch small by the standards of Southern California - began to rise and fall in rhythmic fashion, and breath once more pumped into and out of long-dead lungs. Only then did she press forward and begin what anyone else considered mingling... but for her comprised the hunt.

[Carson Jones]

The evening breeze ruffled the short hair of the large Iowan, as he walked up the way to the party. His senses soon became assaulted by the loud music sounding from the house, and the smells of barbeque drifting over to his nose. He stepped inside after being checked at the door, rather surprised at the turnout as he looked around, trying to figure out where he wanted to go.

Closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath to calm himself, he thought back on the parties back in Iowa, which really weren't too different from this, except that back there he knew just about everyone for 10 miles around. After a few seconds of contemplation, he decided that the music wasn't too bad, the food smelled good, and he was thirsty. He started to wind his way through the crowd, his size being a definite advantage as he cleared himself a small path as he tried to find where the drinks and food were.

He finally found his way over to the punch, a very strange sight catching his eye. Along with the other people standing around the punch, he saw a girl in what looked to be a leather...dress? He wasn't quite sure what to make of her. Alabaster skin, crimson sunglasses and lips, black vinyl covering...some of her body, and black mesh stockings. The poor Iowan was in a state of culture shock, since goths weren't too common back in Warren County, Iowa. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he approached the punch bowl, grabbing up a cup and filling it up before sidling away from the strange girl, feeling rather weirded-out by her appearance.

[z-Amber Wren]

Amber had been wondering around the party, hunting the Herd, taking her time, enjoying the buffet laid before her. She assessed which guys looked at her, and which ones didn't spare her more than a glance. She judged them on their natural grace and strength, driven by instinct to find a good human to mate with - even if she'd made damned sure that there wouldn't be a baby out of this pairing. Besides, she was Uratha - why should she have to settle for the weak or the inferior?

The black guy pumping beer and talking to the darkity-dark Goth wannabe was a possibility, assuming he didn't go home with Ms. Vinyl. It was hard to tell if Ms. Vinyl was digging him, so Amber moved on, circling through the Herd.

Except, there was someone here who wasn't Herd. Amber felt a prickle over her skin, a sense of predator - a wolf among sheep. Keeping her motions casual, she scanned the people around her. There were a lot of them, though there was one guy standing in a bubble by himself. He didn't look like a frat boy. He kinda looked like Wolverine. The fact that he was almost screaming WOLF helped that perception.

Curious, Amber stopped her long circuit and took a lawn seat, wondering if he could find her like she found him.

[Adrian Moss]

8:14 p.m.

Adrian felt the terror of the Sun fall below the Ridge line of his home. He got up and opened the closet door. The door opened up into his bedroom, which he never slept in. The windows were to big and faced west. He turned around and pulled out a new shirt, slacks, jacket and shoes. He layed them out on the bed and went to get some new sox.

The shoes were white jogging shoes which he hoped would help him fit in. His shirt he picked out was a nice silk number, wine colored. His jacket was creme and his pants black as was his belt. Adrian looked in the mirror and prayed he wasn't making a fashion mistake again. He had lousy taste in clothes and everything was hit or miss with him.

In the bathroom, he put on some cologne, brushed his bright teeth, fangs and all, and pocketed the mint gum for later tonight. No sense in weirding out the ladies with a breath fresh from the grave. He sighed once more and condemned himself to facing another night of hunting.

9 p.m.

He had to park down the street from the party it was so popular. This frat was popular, which was a good sign. Better odds in hunting, or so he hoped. There always seemed to be more guys than girls at these things. Must make being a female vampire pretty easy.

Adrian's mind wasn't even thinking about any other supernatural at the party. His limited experience was that of a Kindred in a Kindred-colored bubble. Other 'Supes' were either distant, or isolated aberrations. It was about time for that rather limited cosmic view to be altered.

Adrian had the touch of shadows about him. No one bothered him as he made his way past the door, dropped in his ten dollars, and made his way in. He made his way through the building. Mostly Adrian was ignored. He wasn't too pretty and his looks were furitive. What he did look like was money, and a certain insecurity as how to spend it.

[Emma L. Carter]

Emma Carter was not having a good time at the party. She kept far from masses of people, they made her uncomfortable. She kept far from loners, as they could possibly be more trouble than they're worth. The world was full of ugly and she was no exception to the rule. Occasionally throughout the day Emma would have a soda, and even less often than that a stranger would attempt to talk to her. No one stayed long, even at the insistence of Emma's room mate. For most of the day, she hadn't said more than a few words. There was nothing to say to anyone here. There were no Changelings, there was no one she knew. She even caught herself wondering, as she watched a man trying to impress some scantily clad junior, what kind of life it must be to feel you exist for no other reason than mating. She stopped herself from her pretentiousness and contemplated going home. No room was worth this hell. She spotted some people from the website she had been frequenting, including the girl she got into an argument with.

She decided to find someone. Emma thought she had recognized a name and a photo of another from that message board, but didn't think to follow it up. Graham Johnson. She wandered her way towards the soda as her stomach complained from the lack of food, but she kept an eye out for her military-looking cousin.

[Lucien Hunt]

Through the darkening street the low rumble of three hundred and seventy two thousand dollars worth of automobile roared down the street and pulled up onto the lawn of the frat house, next to a rather impressively tricked-out Camaro.

The shimmering black Lamborghini Murcielago's doors hummed quietly as they rose upward like metallic wings, allowing the only occupant to exit the vehicle.

Lucien Hunt: underwear model, playboy, and richest man on campus stepped out, placing his finely polished Italian patent leather shoes upon the grass as he rose out of the car. His white slacks were complimented by an ivory blazer left unbuttoned in such a way as to appear utterly casual (despite being completely calculated), and the neat burnished blond ponytail he sported evoked thoughts of sand and surf glimpsed from some private bungalo.

He didn't bother to wear a shirt and his perfectly toned and tanned physique was on display for all the party goers. It should be noted that this wasn't Lucien's first choice for a wardrobe, but when his agent caught word that he'd be attending a party Gabe immediately spun it around into an opportunity for publicity.

"Luci!" Gabe said (and Lucien hated little in the world more than being called 'Luci'), "Let them see the goods. The more they see the more they'll think of those billboards. The more they think of those billboards the more they'll think of you in your underwear, and the more they think of you in your underwear the more they'll think of buying it for their boyfriend so they fantasize about you while riding his dick."

I need a new agent. Lucien thought silently as the doors to his car whirred downward and sealed themselves shut. He sighed, a bit nervous, but still moved past the cars towards the house.

"Hunt!" A guy shouted, apparently the owner of the Camaro. "You gotta let me race you sometime. This baby, 187 top speed." He tapped the hood, proud of his masterpiece. "Zero to sixty in four point eight! Dude, you gotta let me try it!"

Lucien grinned as the light from a street lamp reflected off the lenses of his sunglasses. "Zero to sixty in three point three seconds and a top speed of two hundred and nineteen miles per hour. If you'd like, I'm game. I'll wait patiently for you at the finish line, I'll offer you that courtesy at least."

Lucien kept walking as the guys friends 'oohhhed' and 'oh snapped' their buddy on the front lawn.

"Ten bucks Hunt." The money holder at the front held the plastic jug up and shook it around.

"No, but thank you. I brought my own." The playboy smiled while reaching into his pocket.

"To get in." The "door man" scowled, having gotten a dose of Lucien's wit. "An' I know your good for it rich boy. Cough it up."

He shook his head and chuckled, amused with himself. "I was messin' with you. Here." He dropped two bills in the jar and walked in.

The square-jawed lad double-checked the bucket, and saw two crisp Franklins looking up at him.

Within the first five minutes, Lucien found himself leaning against one of the supports that spanned the distance between railing and roof, idly sipping his drink and wondering what the hell he was doing there.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

When you boiled it all down, Sarah was a simple girl, bred to simple tastes. All the same, watching the bronzed young man saunter onto the porch with his thousand-dollar casual look, she had to wonder to herself: Can blood actually taste like money?

Despite far easier pickings filling the frat house to and beyond the brim, she resolved to find out.

There was, of course, no hope of managing this one on looks; tight jeans or no, the bronzed goddesses of Orange County made Sarah look plain by comparison. But there was just enough attitude to her, with hair the colour of copper and an attitude to match, that she might just be able to show a hint of promise to this rich boy of something different from his previous conquests. Very, very different, she chuckled to herself as she wandered as casually as she could manage over in Lucien's direction and propped herself up against the opposite side of the porch post.

"So," she said in a voice pitched just quiet enough to be obviously aimed at the playboy and only the playboy and the slight hint of a smile quirking at the corner of her mouth, "are you as bored yet as I am, or is the drink really that good?"

[Lucien Hunt]

He hadn't been here more than five minutes and Lucien had to repeat "Yes, I'm that Lucien Hunt." twelve times already. In fact, getting himself a drink took two minutes longer than it should have. Yet, he was nothing if not polite, and this fair young lady was willing to be courteous and offer him her time then it was the gentlemanly thing to accept it.

He smiled the Devil's smile that oozed the sort of charm that melted hearts at a thousand paces. "It's not so much boredom as much as weariness. You wouldn't believe what I have to go through to get a drink around here."

He half chuckled. "I'm Lucien, Lucien Hunt." He extended his hand in thoughtful greeting.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Lucien Hunt? Should I know the name? He sure says it like it... A moment of confusion crossed her face before she recovered and adopted a carefully casual smile of her own. Taking the offered hand in her own, she let out a slight chuckle before replying. "Sarah O'Neally," she said, giving his hand a shake that held enough strength for curiousity without so much as to frighten him off. "Sorry, but the way you said your name, you make it sound... well, sort of practiced. Should I know you?"

[Lucien Hunt]

"Wow. I'm not sure whether I should be wounded or thankful." Lucien smiled again and turned now to face his auburn haired admirer. Strong grip. Wow, can every woman in the world possibly kick my butt? I have to work out more. "Seems like everyone around here knows me, if you don't then my guess you're not from around here, or you just dug yourself out of the grave this morning."

He shrugged as he smiled once more. His body language spoke for him and let Sarah know he was just jesting. "Seriously though, it's a bit refreshing to meet someone who hasn't heard of me. It's hard to speak with people when they're treating you like a walking Justin Timberlake concert."

"So, Sarah." He made sure to use her name. Using a person's name always helped them know you were paying attention to them and helped ease the transition of the old fashioned 'ice breaking'. "Are you a student here, or just here for the alcohol too?"

He raised his cup to emphasize his point, and as he took a sip his smile could be seen opposite the cup's rim.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

For a moment - just a brief one - Sarah's carefully conjured beating heart stopped in its tracks. Then Lucien made it obvious that he was joking, and the dead muscle resumed a somewhat awkward pitter-pat once more, as Sarah realized that no, she wasn't caught on the spot.

Even so, it took her a fraction of a moment to catch his question. "I'm... well, actually not much of a drinker. Just transferred down from UCSF. The pre-med program is solid up there, but with budgets the way they are, this is where the money's going for state-of-the-art lab gear." At least, she thought, that was the case three years ago; with the economy still sliding toward a cliff, I can't imagine it's much different now.

She sighed, and shifted her stance to lean with the small of her back against the rail, elbows bracing her. "But given the choice between another night in a motel waiting for the dorms to open or stopping in here... well, let's just say that you can only go through so many novels before cabin fever sets in." Turning her head to look Lucien in the eyes, she added, "So that explains me. What about you, Lucien? Sounds like your kinda tired of this fame thing you have going on; so what brings you out to a fraternity beer bash?"

[Owns-The-Night]

His near-predatory reverie in contemplating the vinyl clad sophomore was interrupted so rudely that one could almost hear a record-scratching sound. A scent on a breeze already laden with pheromones brought a feeling of not being alone in the crowd: There was another present. Another Uratha, close to his territory. Maybe not Uratha at all. Maybe a Pure. He felt his hackles rising and bit back a low growl. A freshman who had been standing nearby widened her eyes and looked around. She had stood near the burly groundskeeper hoping Antoine would come by again, and Declan had become background to her as he lazed against the railing. Seeing 'Crazy Perault' staring off into the crowd with his eyes radiating tension made her nervous, and she moved swiftly away. It was true: he did growl! Antoine must be one hell of a sweetie to act hospitable to that mental case. The big guys were usually really sweet and gentle, especially with kids...

Carefully, Declan let his eyes sweep over the Herd, winnowing through the laughing revelers, searching people's eyes for the Wolf the way he had been taught before being cut loose. He wasn't going to move, wasn't going to call attention to himself by wandering around sniffing. He maintained his relaxed posture against the railing as he sorted through the shoal of faces. Not that one... No... Huh, a rabbit... Ah!

There they were. A female, he noted. She was watching him; damn it, he had gotten careless. She had made him and was just sitting on a lawn chair regarding him. Slowly he turned his head to scan for packmates, keeping the female in his peripheral sight. A moment longer and he concluded that she must be alone.

Not dressed for a fight he noted, taking in her backless shirt and the hoop earrings. His gaze swept down briefly, examining her legs before reaching her feet. Heeled sandals completed his evaluation: on the prowl, but not for territory or blood. He pondered what to do for a long moment. Technically, this was neutral ground. He inclined his head to the female and straightened up, grabbing two beers from a startled frat boy and moving off the porch.

As he went, he cut past the rich boy and the redhead he was talking to. Declan didn't spare them more than a cursory glance of his grey eyes, keeping his attention on the female as he approached her.

[z-Amber Wren]

He caught on pretty quick; she was barely in her seat before he started looking subtly about. And he found her in the crowd quickly, too. All in all, he seemed like a smart cookie. That made him dangerous, but she wasn't too worried. He wouldn't start something here, not on neutral ground. Amber watched him commandeer a beer and stalk toward her. She tensed herself, ready for anything from him.

"Hi," she said when he arrived, taking the beer he offered her. She wondered if she'd have to drink to be social, then wondered if she would stop herself from drinking. "Are you living up the street, on the corner of Hilgard and Wyton? I thought I saw something up there, and I was wondering if it was yours."

Amber eyed him over the edge of her cup; damn it, she was drinking. Well, she'd eaten, and she'd burn through it pretty quickly, even if she did start to feel a little tipsy. She pushed those thoughts away as she studied the werewolf in front of her. He was tall and broad and very imposing. Wonder what auspice he is... She had a few guesses, but assumptions about Uratha were dangerous.

[Owns-The-Night]

She was good looking, he noted as he sipped his own beer. Her frame was toned, with little in the way of spare flesh adorning it. He liked that. He didn't like that she had spotted his lair so much, though. Declan inwardly winced: he had added his lair almost as an afterthought to his main territory, and it jutted out a little.

Still, she didn't seem hostile, just wary. Declan nodded in answer to her question.

"It's mine." He offered the female a large work-roughened hand. "Declan." His silver-grey eyes locked onto hers in a look that was part challenge, part curiousity. "Are we going to fight or be friends?" the look asked without rancor.

[Graham Johnson]

Graham arrives at the site of the party a bit late, but the party is still in full swing. He is wearing a pair of old, beat-up jeans, and a clean, purple button-down shirt. As he walks in and hands his money over, he smiles, "Looks like things are looking up, this year." As he walks in further, his eyes are darting around the room. He gets to the large punch bowl and takes a cup of punch. He begins to mingle, while sipping on the punch. His nose catches a whiff of the food being prepared and served, and his mouth begins to water. Graham makes his way over to the grilling area, and grabs some food.

As he takes his first bite, he notices the pool and the ladies around it. Graham smiles, and sits at the edge of the pool, taking off his boots and socks, and rolling up the legs of his jeans. He then lets his feet hang into the cooler water, as he munches on his barbecue chicken, and sips his punch.

[Lucien Hunt]

Quote:

In reply to Sarah O'Neally

"Well," Lucien answered faster then he intended, it was obvious that he really didn't have a clue why he was here. At least for the first few moments. He looked around at the student body, taking an extra moment on those ladies who were half dressed, or less. "I guess it because I'm new. I really don't know anyone and these parties are as good of a way as any to meet people."

I tell myself I will not go, even as I drive there. He thought silently. This really wasn't his cup of tea, parties like this. Most of the campus knew who he was and for the most part didn't like him. A prejudgment on their part, but it was common.

"Or I could blame Fate I suppose, if one believes in that sort of thing. I'm here," he paused and shrugged. "Simply because I'm supposed to be."

The Warlock tucked his hand into his pocket casually. "So, pre-med huh?"

What is it with meeting new people that leaves us asking the questions we could care less about the answers to?

[William Rose]

Damn good party if I do say so myself... Antoine carried a fresh keg outside and dropped it into a garbage bin full of icy water. He looked around as he screwed the tap in. Must be a good party, even Perault is chatting up a girl. Miracles do happen ... Antoine smiled at the thought but it quickly went sour as it inevitably brought memories of Katrina and the aftermath, and those roused the hard to forget memories of vampires and worse.

Antoine poured a beer from the tap and quickly guzzeled it down, then refilled before wandering off once more. He looked around trying to decide which group to amble up to and join. As he scanned the patio he was quickly flanked and surrounded.

A chorus of bubbly voices sprung up around him; "Hi Antoine!", "Hi there Tony.", "Nice part Big Easy.", and more. Antoine hated that last one. Not really hated, just hated when the cheerleaders used it. It implied something from them that he didn't really like. When the guys on the team said it they were referring to his easy going attitude, when the cheerleaders said it he flet like a piece of meat being looked over at the market.

"Evenin' ladies," he drawled back, "Having a good time tonight I hope?" Antoine didn't really care to hear the answer but asked because it was polite, he knew that they wouldn't respond with anything other than an affirmative.

"Oh, we're just having a great time, but then if you were coming it couldn't be anything but perfect!" That was Krissy, who was forward enough to actually thread her arm through his and press up against him.

"Yeah it's just great Tony," said Kelly as she likewise entangled herself into his arm and pressed into his body with hers. Despite his dislike of their personalities Antoine was a heterosexual male and he was being all but grappled with by two very sexy, very fit, and very easy cheerleaders.

Grow up man, nobody expects you to play the nice guy. Besides, it's not every day that you have two sure things hanging off your arms ... AT THE SAME TIME! Who's it gonna hurt?? His libido was quickly making an airtight case in favor of knocking out a quick threesome with a pair of the hottest girls in the school. The part of his mind that might've pointed out any dissenting advice was meanwhile occupied being inebriated. Hell with it, I might as well enjoy myself.

The other cheerleaders had even cordoned off the group, basically preventing any interferance that might help Antoine escape. Krissy and Kelly weren't exactly discreet in their plans to do anything needed to bed the QB and thus gain whatever social bonus that would bring them. Presently Antoine found himself being lead indoors and upstairs by the pair of sirens.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Originally Posted By: Lucien Hunt

"So, pre-med huh?"

It was now Sarah's turn to hit an awkward pause. Her scholastic career was literally a lifetime ago; back then, she had decided on a medical career because... Why the hell DID I? she pondered. After an overly long nod, she began forcing words out, hoping they would add up to something that would make sense.

"I... well, when I was young, I saw a lot of... injuries. The environment I grew up in was... well, pretty rough and tumble, and my family ran more than a little hot under the collar. Somewhere along the way, it just started to seem as though someone in my line should focus a little more on putting people back together than taking them apart. So when I managed to finish a General Studies degree with high grades and lucked into a scholarship from the Uni-Cal system, I wound up going for pre-med. Sort of making amends, if that makes any sense."

As she finished up, Sarah was more than a little surprised at her words, not least because they were true. That's really who I was then, wasn't it? And now.... Clamping down hard on the train of thought before it crashed through what was left of her human psyche, Sarah forced a smile and a humorless chuckle before adding, "Probably sounds like I'm a mob daughter or something."

[Lucien Hunt]

"Naw," his expression was humorous as he drug out the 'aw'. "see that woman over there?" He pointed to a gorgeous young woman with long black hair and a shimmering vinyl mini skirt. That I'd mistake for a mobster's daughter."

He winked an smiled. "But you, you have a more... comfortable aura about you. A compassionate one, faded though it is. Ad rem however, I think it's great you want to help people. There isn't enough of that in the world I fear." Not knowing with whom he spoke, and being barely even accustomed to the Supernal sights offered upon him through his Awakening, Lucien thought nothing of his mention of auras, faded or otherwise.

[Adrian Moss]

His luck changed. It brushed off two sterotypical beauties were leading a large, friendly-natured black giant upstairs. Mindlessly, they pushed their way through the crowds around the bottom of the stairs. Adrian got pushed back like so much flotsam driven by a crashing wave. He felt himself bump backwards into someone and looked hastily over his shoulder incase that someone was big and holding a grudge.

The person turned out to be someone else entirely. She was a reasonably attractive (in Adrian's opinion). She had long, black hair in ringlets, deep brown eyes, and a thin face. Adrian quickly took in her looks while only barely missing eye contact. He hoped to feed on her after all.

"Bitches," the girl seethed, looking up the stairs at the two cheerleaders. She had spilled her drink and was flicking her fingers to get the brew off.

"Here, have mine," Adrian spoke, offering his own untouched beer. "I just got it."

She eyed him for a second, weighing in his creepy demeanor with his fashionalbe threads and sincere offer.

"Sure," she said. "I'm Gwen, First Year, Law School," she challenged.

"I'm Adrian, Criminal Justice, Non-Degree." He hesitated for a second then added, "I haven't made up my mind," which was almost a lie. He knew he came out the weaker in their first cut and thrust.

Gwen gave him that eye again, a definite look to make most guys become unsettled. She seemed to be too bright and opinionated without trying. Adrian guessed she was alone, or at least not here with another guy.

"I'm here alone. You?"

"Oh," she said picking her words deliberately, "I came here with some friends."

A moment of silence passed between them before Adrian make his gamble.

"Wanna go upstairs?"

For a moment Adrian thought she was eyeing him and finding him wanting. He was used to it, but his luck had definitely changed.

"Sure," she responed trying to sound bored, but coming across as somewhat excited. Somehow she sensed the threat in Adrian and it called to her bored life.

They caught another break when some Frat boy was leading a girl out of a room, him smiling and her giggling, both drunk. Adrian held Gwen's hand and led her into the room then he shut the door. The Vampire turned and looked at his food. Gwen tried to make some sort of small talk but nothing seemed to come out right. Adrian walked into her personal space and kissed her brutally. Gwen had that deer-in-the-headlights look.

Adrian bumped against Gwen and she stumbled back. There wasn't any room and she stumbled back against bed. She fell down and Adrian was on her like a flash. His hands on either side of her, he hovered about four inches away.

"I need you," he breathed.

Gwen blinked.

Adrian went for the throat and began to nibble and suck. Gwen made a throaty noise. It had been a long time and Adrian certainly seemed interested. Adrian kissed his way down to her breast bone and then kissed one breast through the fabric of her shirt and bra.

Gwen was struggling to think straight. Some part of her mind was screaming at her that she was in danger, but she couldn't interpret it. Adrian pulled up her shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. He kissed her stomach and belly button. His body had moved down her body. She knew what he was going to do and she wanted him to do it. Somehow she knew this man was going to be special.

He pushed up her skirt and kissed both her thighs. Gwen propped herself up on her elbows. She felt his breath, his lips, his teeth and his practiced fingers. Gwen began to moan. Adrian really was good. He really knew how a woman wanted it and as she built up toward a climax, her brain exploded.

Adrian waited until the moment was right, for the moment when his victim was the least likely to know the true power of the Kiss for what it was. His fangs dugg deep into her thigh. The sweet blood flooded into his welcoming mouth while his limps kept any from spilling away.

He drank very little of what she had, just enought to cover what he had used to make him appear alive for tonight's hunt. When that limit was reached, and Adrian was careful to not exceed it, his tongue licked the wound and made it vanish. In the back of his mind, he still hungered and the Beast didn't want to be held in check. Adrian wouldn't give it this vessel though. His will was too strong.

"God!," Gwen panted, "that was great."

Adrian looked up and tried to look interested in her adoration. After all, he might meet her on some other night and having her being receptive would be much better.

"Everyone has thier secret talent," he said with a smile.

He reached over and pulled Gwen up. She swooned, but Adrian steadied her. She kissed him.

"One too many beers," Gwen stated, "and you need to clean up."

Adrian's eyes studied her with an animalistic intensity.

"Yes ... yes, I do."

He shook his head.

"Gwen, are you going to be okay?" he said, with the human shell of him becoming more resurgent.

"Should we go find your friends? I don't want anyone thinking I took advantage of you.

Gwen's hand cupped his chin.

"Adrian, who are you? You come across as ... I don't know, but you are so intense and ... different."

"Yeah. I'm different."

"Can I have your number?" Gwen asked with her eyes downcast.

"How about you give me your number," Adrian countered, but seeing her disappointment, he handed her his cell.

Gwen tapped in her number and took a quick look at his own - for later.

Time to go back downstairs, Adrian decided. He took Gwen back down, her hanging on his arm. This was a bit annoying because he really had to remember to do all the things that made a vampire appear alive. If he managed to create someone he could feed on more than once though, maybe it was worth the aggravation.

[z-Amber Wren]

She took his hand, keeping her grip firm. He was somewhat physically overwhelming, and she wished he'd sit down instead of looming over her. Still, the spirit of the Full Moon burned in her heart, and she refused to back down or look away. "I'm Amber. And yeah, it's yours. Mine's about three miles... that way," she said, her tone agreeable. "And no worries about me. I have no business on campus, and no interest in what's yours. Though I'd have taken more of the block than your house - I assume that is your house? It's a little obvious."

Behind him, she saw that handsome black stud get escorted off by two very willing cheerleaders. That soured her mood a little. He'd reminded her of Ray, without the drugs or the pimping or the gangs. Amber was willing to admit a certain prediliction for tall, athletic men of African heritage. Go play with your little cheer-feeders she thought without irritation or jealousy. She'd get him soon enough, or she wouldn't. There were plenty more guys around.

She turned her attention back to Declan. "Anyway, is there anything, any issues I need to be aware of in this area that might grow or expand?"

Amber chuckled suddenly, setting her half-emptied cup on the deck next to her chair. "Sorry, it's a party, and I'm trying to talk business. And I came here to get away from business for a few hours. I'll stop, if you want."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

The comment about her 'faded' aura went right past her; Sarah's brief experience in unlife had yet to include the details of just how faint her and her fellows appeared to those who had the talent to see such things. But his words about the lack of compassion in the world hit home. Once upon a time, Sarah possessed a charitable soul. What years of abuse couldn't beat out of her, the Embrace it appear did; while she was far from as calloused as some of her fellow monsters, compassion no longer burned within her as it once did.

"The world has done a lot to lose any right to that compassion, Lucian. If mine is faded, it's because I've seen a little too much of what dark things life really has to offer." The words were delivered in a tone both sincere and grim, and she immediately regretted them; they certainly weren't the sort of thing you said to someone you were hoping to take off somewhere alone, unless that someone was a die-hard goth. Shaking her head as if to shake off the doom and gloom, she apologized with a half-hearted smile. "Sorry; didn't mean to get so grim there. Change of subject. What path are you on?"

[Lucien Hunt]

"No, it is I who should apologize. Brevis ipsa vita est sed malis fit longior. Our life is short but is made longer by misfortunes." He bowed his head slightly as he translated in a manner that men these days just never do: politely and humbly. "My words were poorly chosen, I meant no offense."

"As for my path... well, I'm majoring in Business and economics but I do some modeling on the side because it irritates my father to no end." His smile turned to that of a trickster as he made mention of irritating his father. "Come. Mingle with me, I have no idea who any of these people are and I'd be ever so grateful if I had someone to save me when I embarrass myself."

"Hmm?" He held out his hand in a courteous invite to join him on a stroll through the throngs of drunken students.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Well, if a bit of mingling may lead to an eventual meal.... This was growing to become a rather lengthy experiment, one that was going to take a good deal longer than it would to just find some wasted kid and drag him off somewhere for a bite. But time had been invested, and Sarah had to admit to a growing curiosity at just what made Lucien Hunt tick.

With a smile (and a careful check to make sure that her hand was up to something resembling a human temperature), she accepted Lucien's hand and set out with him into the massed.

[Owns-The-Night]

He relaxed, a slight smile transforming his features from imposing to just rugged.

"You're right. This is a party." He glanced around and, coming to a decision, moved to squat down companionably next to her chair, balancing easily on his haunches. She could see the hint of a tattoo peeking out from under the left sleeve of his t-shirt. "I'm sorry too." he said in his low voice, the tone losing some of it's harder edge. "I haven't seen... one of us in a while, let alone swapped notes."

"So, seein' as we're being sociable: what pack do you run with?" he asked her quietly, his grey eyes watching the crowd. "Me, I'm currently lone-in' it."

[z-Amber Wren]

They watched the crowd the same exact way: predators sizing up the prey. Amber may not immediately set off warning signs like the grizzled landscaper did, but the longer she sat and watched, the more the party-goers noticed similarities between him and her. Most assumed she was a sex-hungry tramp, a belief abetted by her chatting up "Crazy Perault." Some simply stayed far, far away from her, unsure of what she wanted but sure they wanted no part of it.

"You're the first I've seen since my... first night," Amber admitted. "I don't remember much of that either." She paused, about to gloss over it, then lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes. "I was high at the time and by the time I came down, it was over. Then came detox, and that wasn't great either. Lots of holes in my memory."

She'd missed being with someone who knew what she was. Amber found herself relaxing in ways she never could with the Herd. "I'm not with anyone either," she said. "I've found a good place, with a small... focus - I'm not looking to move. Not even to find others to be with."

[Owns-The-Night]

He caught the meaning of her words readily enough and nodded. So she was a recovering druggie. That explained the half-drunk beer. He felt a little more at ease around Amber, returning her gaze with equal candour that told the female she wasn't judged.

"You're welcome to cross my markers whenever you need to." He told her quietly with a strange formality. "Good neighbours are hard to find. And if you need any help cleaning house, I'm not far away." He flashed her a good-humoured grin.

[z-Amber Wren]

Amber blinked, caught off guard. "I... thank you," she said softly and sincerely. "You, uh... ditto. You can cross my space any time you need to, too. And on the cleaning house thing, too. There's some damned nasty things out there, and I'd hate to lose a new neighbor to them."

She gave him a smile, a real and genuine smile. She didn't share those much anymore. "Say... do you have... dreams? About a wolf standing in the snow? One that is the cold winter wind?" She wondered if she'd just made an idiot of herself.