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

[Lavinia Foscari]

It was getting late and she didn't like to be late. Anita was making sure everything was as she wanted. She checked her skirt and her white bikini which contrasted strongly against her tanned skin. Smiling confidently she put a short white blouse on and buttoned it just to where her cleavage started leaving her midriff bare and showing off her trim abs.

"Ya estas demasiado tarde, Valen!" (You are much too late, Valen!) she heard her mother yell from the kitchen downstairs. Sometimes Anita asked herself if she should have rented her own apartment or join one of the sororities on campus. As she finished the last line of her mascara she went back to her laptop and checked her e-Mails and her chat-account. Maybe LAGuy_73 had left a hint if he would be going to the frat party, too? Unfortunately her inbox was empty.

She sighed and blew a strand of her long black hair out of her face. She’d get her chance soon enough to find out who he really was. She was convinced that he was at UCLA, too. She took her tiny bag that was just large enough to contain some emergency make-up and her Cellular and grabbed her keys.

Downstairs she dashed to the garage, yelling back to her mom, “I know, mum. Bendicion!”

“Dios de lo bendiga…” (May the lord bless you…) her mother answered but she only heard the roar of Anita’s engine as she drove away. Shaking her head her mother smiled as she saw the car leaving the estate.

Anita turned on the music on her new Racing Yello Camaro ’08 (ooc:http://www.carspotting.com/s/sport-cars/Chevrolet/Chevrolet-Camaro-2008/508) and tried not to think about LAGuy_73 which turned out to be rather difficult. He was a constant companion in her thoughts and she caught herself feeling better if she imagined him being near her. Sometimes she even felt silly because of it and wondered if anyone else had noticed her absentmindedness. This party better be good, else she already saw herself drowning in self-pity once she saw everyone making out with each other leaving her all alone again or worse – with some jackass trying to make a move on her.

She parked the car and turned on the alarm – the illusion of security. At least the car was well insured in case of theft or damage. Anita checked herself one last time before she entered the campus and made her way to the frat party. She decided against calling Krissy and Kelly to tell them she was on her way. By now the two of them would surely be heavily involved in “conversation”. Anita rolled her eyes and went through the gate getting her stamp

“Here we go,” she said quietly to herself and wandered casually to the pool area, waving at people that recognised her and putting on her best smile. She had to, she had no other choice.

[z021]

Oneca pulled up to the frat house in the Lexus Hybrid, an environmental but still expensive choice that was not so much out of a tree-hugging spirit but because her parents would still buy this kind car for her despite her mediocre grades. She parked a few houses down in a curb space already vacated by a more responsible and earlier rising of a party-goer. The heels of her boots clicked on the concrete of the sidewalk and she flicked the butt of her cigarette into an open trash can and she turned up the walk to the house.

She dropped a bill into the jar on her way past the front door, the curves and brevity of her silky black dress making whatever denomination the bill was irrelevant. Besides, half the frat house was waving to her and calling out her name as she walked in. She smiled and slid her way through the press of bodies towards her first beer of the night, taking stock of the feel of the party and deciding whether or not she felt like moving it to a 'disturbing the peace' pace before midnight. She felt good tonight and was in a mood to let loose.

[Astra D.]

The warm, sultry summer air was redolent with the scents of sweat, alcohol, and cheap perfume; a heady cocktail of aromas mingling with the subtler pheromones to wreathe nearly everyone at the party in an intangible cloud of desire, desperation, and...

"Dude?"

Morgan blinked, glancing over at Reva and thus away from the guy sitting with his feet in the pool. He wasn't stunningly good-looking (or at least, not in the conventional sense) but he had a certain... solidity of form, she decided, that made him interesting to look at. He looked so at ease, so comfortable, and the shape of his hands as he ate and drank and chatted with the partygoers implied a curious combination of strength and manual dexterity. They were a sculptor's hands, she thought, and wondered idly if they were calloused.

"What?"

"Dude. Quit staring at the eye candy and check this out. Perault's hitting on some biker-bitch wannabe."

"Wait, what?" Morgan laughed, nudging her friend aside to get a better look. From their table, it was easy to see the eccentric (okay, eccentric was a bit generous) groundskeeper kneeling down beside a striking tattooed blonde in a halter top, with earrings that Morgan could only describe as "hooker hoops."

"Wow," she finally replied, as she giggled quietly and shared a conspiratorial smile with the caramel-skinned girl sitting next to her. "At least she won't have to think about where to put her ankles. Anyway, if she's talking to Perault, she's either a cop, or a masochist, and I have no pity for either." The scarlet grin widened, and Morgan took another sip from her cup, glancing around at the throng of people. "Though, admittedly," she added with a thoughtful frown and a slight tilt of her head, "those jeans make his ass look fantastic."

"Morgan!" Reva hissed through her laughter, and the two continued to observe the comings and goings of the revelers.

[Lucien Hunt]

Taking the red haired lady's hand Lucien acted as her guide. "You see," he said to Sarah, leaning back so she could hear him as they walked through the loud music and thongs of people. Deftly they dodged rogue drink cups from passers-by not paying attention. "The trick is, even though you don't know a single soul here, you act like you do anyway."

"Confidence is key." He lectured with a charming smile.

Lucien avoided 'Crazy Perault' like the plague unleashed in the middle of a forest fire at the edge of Hell's Gates. Shame, he thought. His company looks fantastic in that shirt.

They moseyed over to where Lucien could procure himself another drink. The attractive caramel skinned young lady that beat them to the keg moved with the predatory grace of a true college alcoholic. She looked at the couple as they aproached while Lucien redied himself another cup.

"Hey," she asked, a bit embarrassed and perhaps slightly tipsy already. "You're the Calvin Klein guy, aren't you?"

"Calvin Klein is just the brand name, I'm actually Lucien. Lucien Hunt." He repeated in the same practiced manner the Sarah had pointed out several minutes ago. "And this is Sarah."

"Reva," she replied and extended her hand which Lucien graciously accepted. "And... I've been dying to ask you, is it Photoshopped?"

The air got awkward as Lucien, despite all his confidence, suddenly seemed to turn berry red.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

For her part, Sarah was very much out of her element. Raised among wolves and darker things, then thrust into a world of blood and eternal night, she had never developed the finer points of socialization - at least, not with anything still human. The fluidity of Lucien's smile and flair was a bit overwhelming (even if he's going to be dinner soon, she reminded herself), and left her trying to catch up.

His advice was theoretically sound, but putting it into practice required a confidence that she utterly lacked. By and large, she was reduced to polite nods and smiles, the occasional quiet "hello" or "nice to meet you" that was all but drown out by the din of music and greater voices. As it went on, her envy of these people, these mortals with the ease with which they deal with each other, built within her as a growing flame... and the thing that shared a dead shell with her bided its time with whispered promises. So they're pretty. So they're graceful. They all bleed. And if you'll just let us free, they'll all bleed for you. All for you.

Sarah almost had to shake herself free from the voice when Lucien swung her around - gracefully, but in control nonetheless - to meet the tender young thing that introduced herself as Reva before making a comment about Lucien's star commodity. Summoning up a smile that she hope did not invoke visions of a gory death, Sarah gave a slight chuckle that was equal parts nerves and desperation. "That's an interesting question. And nice to meet you, Reva."

[Adrian Moss]

Adrian was free to hunt again. He had parted from Gwen - and one of her rather drunk friends - without too much incident. Gwen had seemed so pathetically sorry to be so out of it that it touched the shade that was his human memory. He was not totally given over to the Predator's taint. He was also still the shadow of the street kid he had been so few years ago.

But the blood called to him and that was his over-arching concern. In his mind, the fear of falling into the bestial frenzy that was the mirror half of the predator he had become drove Adrian to feed whenever the opportunity presented itself. He felt that fear pressing on him with slightest of lash blows against the naked back of his soul - a reminder.

He found his course dictated by the flow of people around him. He found himself coming out into the back. Adrian seperated himself from the herd as quickly as he could. He liked being able to move his elbows around without hitting somebody. If he had been alive, it would have been expressed as room to breath.

The out of sorts youth in his flashy clothes took a moment to look around and take in the scene. First and foremost in his mind was a target, preferalby female, who was just drunk enough to want to take a walk with him. Then would come the feeding and the quieting of the fear for another lonely night.

[Astra D.]

It took several minutes for Morgan to realize that her cup did not, in fact, "runneth over." She was so busy following the ephemeral threads people were weaving amongst themselves, watching them knot and twist until the chaos from which they began started to form a curious sort of pattern, that she didn't even notice when Reva grabbed both empty cups and informed her (twice) that she was going to get them another refill.

This one was thin, that one bright, that one entangled with a dozen others in a bizarre, incestuous web... No matter how often she used this most trivial of rotes, the results were never short of awe-inspiring. Being able to actually see the threads of Fate that bound everyone was an endless source of interest for her, rather like an enhanced variant of the typical people-watching games.

Today, the threads, she mused, chin in hand. Tomorrow, the tapestry.

Idly, she reached for her cup, her eyes still moving from face to face as she peered at the crowd through very literal rose-colored glasses. When her hand closed around empty air, she immediately realized that she'd missed something.

"Reva?"

The vinyl-skirted sophomore swung her stockinged legs from beneath the picnic table and rose, scanning the crowd not for the connections between them, but for a familiar face.

"Where the hell did she...?" Before she'd even finished her sentence and begun worrying, she spotted a flash of electric blue near (surprise, surprise) the active keg. Rolling her eyes at her own sensational lack of awareness, she made her way from the table to the small cluster of people chatting.

Originally Posted By: Lucien Hunt

"...dying to ask you, is it Photoshopped?"

That was all she heard; the red-haired woman's reply was too soft to carry over the sound of the party, but Reva's voice she'd recognize anywhere.

"Is what Photoshopped?" Morgan asked of the group, inserting herself in the middle of the conversation as she took one of the cups out of her friend's hands. "Thanks," she murmured to the petite Afro-Asian girl, an eyebrow arched curiously as she looked at the two strangers. The redhead she'd never seen; probably a new arrival. Mr. Shirtless, however, seemed very familiar somehow.

She studied the blushing Casanova as she waited for a reply, noted the width of his shoulders, the angle of his cheekbones, the blonde-ish ponytail styled and highlighted just so.

The moment she recognized him, it was all too obvious. She pushed her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, green eyes wide in a combination of surprise and frank appraisal.

Oh. Is that Photoshopped.

"That," she stated simply as a low whistle fled her lips, "is a damned good question."

[Lucien Hunt]

"Ah, heh." He was really red now. Odd, that model and an attractive man man like himself be so put off by the simplest of honest questions.

But this new girl who approached, the exotic dark haired beauty, she was different. Her 'aura' was strange, speckled and shimmering, like his. For months he'd spent looking at the people as they strolled by on the beaches or shopping malls, and never has any of them shared the same shimmer that he possessed in his own aura. He made note, but did not want to be disrespectful to his current companion and new friend, Sarah.

"Well, um... no. No, it's not Photoshopped." His admission of the truth didn't seem to levy his embarrassment any. "Woah, sure am thirsty... can I get anyone, anything... a beer, a wine cooler, a subject change?"

He chuckled dryly, completely hoping the Gods would strike him dead.

[Owns-The-Night]

Originally Posted By: Amber Wren

"Say... do you have... dreams? About a wolf standing in the snow? One that is the cold winter wind?"

"I... don't dream." Declan frowned slightly, uncomfortable with the subject, but feeling a need to explain more. "I haven't dreamed since the Change. Used to dream a lot... bad dreams." He shifted his eyes away and down. "Some was a sign, y'know, of what was gonna happen. Other dreams were more 'normal'." He shrugged, wanting to tell her more, holding back for reasons he didn't understand.

"But your dream? I dunno what that means. I'm no spirit-guide type. Ol' Mother was at her biggest and brightest when I was reborn, if you catch my drift." His gaze flickered back to her and he flashed another grin which rippled across his face in an instant, only remaining in the crinkle of his eyes.

[William Rose]

Antoine wrung out his shorts in the bathroom sink. Well if I'm lucky nobody will notice before I dive into the pool. After that it's all the same. Stupid cheerleaders ... They had gotten into the bedroom and were starting to get busy when Krissy’s system had decided that it was done absorbing alcohol. She’d thrown up all over his crotch. Kelly, likewise intoxicated, had rolled off the bed laughing and smacked her head off the dresser in the process. Disgusted Antoine had simply taken the shorts off waited for a good fifteen minutes and then come to the bathroom.

I suppose this is karma or something. Hopefully nobody will find out about this. I even if those two remember they won’t tell. Antoine shook his head, and scrubbed the shorts once more with the soap before giving them a final rinse and wringing them dry. He sighed and put them on. The plan was to make a bee line for the pool and simply jump in. After that he’d have an excuse to be wet, And a little more sober.

Antoine all but jogged down the stairs and dashed through the back of the house toward the patio. He didn’t bother with the diving board and instead just made a long graceful dive into the deep end. He came up quickly and swam directly to the opposite end of the pool where towels and the like were waiting. Coming up out of the water he was all smiles. Giving a knowing wink and nod to some of the other football players who had seem him go off with Kelly and Krissy. “Somebody wanna grab me a beer?” he asked as he toweled himself down.

[z-Amber Wren]

"Yeah, I'm the same," Amber said with a grin. "So trying to figure out dreams is not my thing, either. If you aren't having it, then no one's trying to tell us anything; it's just my issue." And that also meant she knew what it was. She knew who it was.

Skolis-Ur. Amber stared at the glowing strings of lights that allowed the humans to see in the dark, lost in thought for a moment. No, lost in fear; she wanted no part of this. She'd left her family for a reason, and the strict requirements of the Winter Wolf had been a large part of that reason. She wasn't that kind of person; she wasn't a leader. Skolis-Ur had turned her grandmother into a hateful bitch; Amber didn't want to become her. Not that she wasn't halfway there; she was a bitch, but not hateful. Go away, Amber thought to the First Child, or maybe prayed. Leave me alone.

She realized that she'd been doing the hundred-yard stare and ignoring her companion. She turned her attention back to him and grinned. "But that's cool that you're full moon. Go us." She offered him a fist, and after a moment, he imitated her. Amber chuckled as she completed the most awkward fist bump in the history of ever.

"So," she added in an attempt to smooth over that awkward moment, "have you aligned to one of the First Kids? Or are you all ghosty? I'm ghosty, myself."

[Owns-The-Night]

Declan was surprised at the offered fist and had stared blankly for a second before belatedly catching on. He felt clumsy and isolated, out of sync with the world to such a degree he was even fucking-up socialising with another Rahu. His discomfort was mostly banished by Amber's chuckle though, and he shared the chuckle, shaking his head at himself. At her question, he shrugged and tapped a spot on the left side of his chest under the t-shirt.

"I carry the mark of Fenris-Ur right here." He grinned with proud ferocity, white teeth flashing in the dusk, then winked at her. "Guess you could say that makes me two types of trouble."

He noticed a ruckus near the door, and saw the large star quarterback dash out in a state of undress and plunge headlong into the pool to the accompaniment of whoops, cheers and whistles. He smiled a little at the boisterous merriment; it reminded him of happier times.

Casting around as he prepared to go and get another drink for them both, he saw that the male model had attracted a small crowd of female attention near the coolers and snorted slightly, amused (and a little jealous, he admitted to himself). Damn, even Miss Naughty Vinyl was checking blondie out now. The guy was probably gay anyway; how else could you explain his willingness to parade around in his skivvies where other guys could see it. Sorry, girls. He probably doesn't wear men's underwear off the billboards. The thought was good for another wry grin, and he looked at Amber with a tilt of his head towards the 'bar'.

"Want to get something to drink? If I stay in one place too long I feel like I'm missing out on what's happening elsewhere." He was self-aware enough to know that what he was doing was simple alpha wolf behaviour, but damned if that couldn't be fun sometimes.

[Carson Jones]

Although he had been a bit skeptical and uncomfortable at first, as things wore on Carson was having a great time. He wasn't sure if it was the good food, or whatever they had put in the punch, but he somehow found himself lounging on a couch, joking around with complete strangers with a girl on his lap. Some small, subconscious part of him was asking him what the hell he thought he was doing, and that this was not the way he should be acting, but in his inebriated state, he brushed that voice away like a 3 year old with a house of cards.

In a fleeting moment of lucidity and rationality, he wondered what had happened to get him here, being that most of it was a blur. He vaguely remembered noticing that the punch wasn't exactly Kool-Aid, but drinking anyway, telling himself that he'd be alright, and could sober himself up in a hurry if need be. He vaguely wondered what happened to that, but then his attention was turned back to the conversation by some stupid joke that the other guys had said, and he laughed along to be polite. The girl on his lap leaned back and whispered something into his ear that made him smile like a drunken fool. Er, an even more drunken fool. She stood up, taking his hand and leading him away from everyone else as he contentedly watched her walk as she led him.

[Adrian Moss]

Adrian came around the pool slowly scanning for likely targets, but he found he wasn’t alone. Small packs of guys were whispering and drinking together, pointing out the tipsiest groups of girls to fall upon for their own reasons. He resented their camaraderie, easy mannerisms, and tanned good looks. All he wanted was just one more vessel for the night. He kept walking past the large swimming black man, barely noticing the wetness and approached the open keg. A drink would provide suitable bait, and Adrian needed all the help he could muster.

She came at him with blood-drenched claws. Her teeth glistened serpentine in the artificial light of this moonless night. Her hands reached for his throat and he was about to DIE! Adrian stumbled back and away. His knees felt weak and he would have pissed blood on himself if he was able. His asshole tightened up and he was left with a sense that he was drowning in his own blood. Had she hit him already?

Adrian didn’t care. This other kindred was right on him. A hundred ideas were pouring through his head and they all ended in RUN you Fool! Every muscle in his young, yet dead, body tensed up. He scanned around feverishly looking for a way out – an escape from this superior killer.

Only the faintest shade of his mind, scream barely heard, was trying to tell that the Beast was lying. His mind was gone into the Rotschreck. He had found another, more powerful vampire and his primal instincts had over-road all caution. All he could do was offer one last bump of direction to the rampaging coward.

Adrian bumped against the keg and some people yelled at him. One Frat boy reached out to him, but the Kindred was already gone. He scrambled, tripping only a little bit and careened off the picnic table. He didn’t loose speed. He ran at one of the recently vacated chairs along the fenced in back yard and took it in two strides – seat and top – as he vaulted the wall and was gone into the night.

A few people cheered, but most thought he was either drugged out, too drunk, or just a jerk acting off some twisted fantasy.

For Adrian, every twig breaking was her footfall behind him, every unexplained night noise the intake of breath between her teeth, and every shadow, in front and behind, a place she might bound out from. He was trapped, attacked from all sides, and only by running could he hope to hold off his fate for a few more seconds. This lasted for sometime until Adrian’s mind finally was battered down by the powers of his Shadow Killer and his own hopeless state.

Code:

 Spent 1 Willpower to direct Frenzy for one round. 

[z-Amber Wren]

"Want to get something to drink? If I stay in one place too long I feel like I'm missing out on what's happening elsewhere."

"Absolutely," Amber said with a toothy smile that wasn't reassuring to the nearby humans. She was painfully aware that her most meaningful conversation to date had been with the one guy here she couldn't fuck, and she was eager to scout out other possibilities. The big hunk of dark meat was back, and Amber wondered if she could squeeze some time out of him.

A sudden commotion caught her attention. Wide, startled eyes focused quickly on the fleeing kid, her instinct to chase exploding up into her throat like a jumping heart. But this lurch of surprise had the teeth of mindless desire behind it, and Amber leaned toward the running man.

Firmly, she took control of herself, taking a deep breath. She accompanied Declan to the bar, avoiding the crowd of women around the cute and vaguely familiar guy. He was probably some minor starlet, hopped up on his own fame. No, thanks - she liked more down to earth fellows.

"Hey, Big Easy wants a beer," she heard someone shout, and Amber perked up; that's what people had been calling the black guy she'd been eyeing. "I'll catch up with you later and we can exchange info," she told Declan quickly as she grabbed two cups of beer. "But for now..."

Her intent was obvious as she sauntered over to Antoine and handed him a cup. "Here you go, big guy," she said, handing him one cup. "Say, you were the guy who put up the post about the party, weren't you? I'm Amber."

[Lavinia Foscari]

Anita had found a comfortable chair to recline on directly at the pool and watched the people having a good time. She wondered where Kelly and Krissy had gone when suddenly he came out of the house and jumped elegantly headfirst into the pool.

She found herself smiling as she watched him resurface and ask for a beer. He seemed to be having a good time and she kept thinking if her assumptions where right. The coincedence would be pure irony if he turned out to be her secret Internet-Crush she had been building over the last months.

Wishful thinking warned her conscious self and before she could follow the imagination that Antoine could be the one he saw another girl grab a beer and handing it over to him starting a conversation. Anita sighed but couldn't remove her eyes from him. No, Anita., she thought He can't be him, he is THE football star of the upcoming season. You might consider yourself lucky if he knows how to spell his name right. Or yours for that matter.

Anita shook her head and thought about leaving but something held her back. She couldn't stop thinking that maybe he was him... just maybe. It was obvious that she was watching him and Amber thinking about what to do next.

[Owns-The-Night]

Declan actually laughed as she headed off, surprised at how good he felt, how much more alive than half an hour ago. He wasn't alone anymore. He remembered how his initial guide to the Uratha world had told him of the value of Pack, of others to share experiences and life with, and Declan understood for the first time. He felt almost giddy.

Looking around, he wandered if the Herd knew this feeling, with their pairing-off and their social circles. It wasn't something that could be put into human words, at least not by him. Silently wishing Amber luck, he grabbed a cup of punch and wandered over to the small knot of girls clustered around the tall blond guy, a slight smile on his face. As he approached the group, his eyes swept over the females. All good prospects, he decided. The small pretty caramel-coloured one looked interesting, as did the shiny-clad goth chick whose ass he'd had an eye on earlier; but they'd probably sneer, back away from him and cover up any nervousness by giggling, just like the girls in high school had. The third, a redhead he didn't recognise, was interesting in a different way.

Less conventionally attractive, something about her was leaner and harder than the other two; more woman than girl, like Amber. He briefly regretted that Uratha couldn't mate with one another; that would have been one hell of a fun night. But what was wrong was wrong, no two ways around that fact. Still, three prospects for a fun time lay before him. For the first time in awhile, he realised how long it had been since he had been laid. Never! That had to be a good sign: this morning he couldn't have cared less. Stepping up to the small cluster, he grinned (a little too toothily, to be honest, but he was feeling so good he didn't notice) and introduced himself.

"Ladies, gent: Hi. I'm Declan." he offered a calloused hand in the general direction of Lucien as his silver eyes swept around the circle, meeting those of everyone in the group. Let's see if Mr Kleins can stand the presence of lesser mortals.

[William Rose]

Antoine toussled his short hair dry and tried to get the majority of the water out of his clothing having jumped in fully clothed. His white linen shirt was plastered to him as were the tan shorts. On the plus side he had roused up a good round of laughter and more than a few people had followed suit and jumped into the pool, including a number of ladies in various states of dress and undress.

Originally Posted By: Amber Wren

Her intent was obvious as she sauntered over to Antoine and handed him a cup. "Here you go, big guy," she said, handing him one cup. "Say, you were the guy who put up the post about the party, weren't you? I'm Amber."

Antoine flipped the towel easily around his neck and took the Solo of beer from the woman in front of him. "Uhh, yeah, that was me. Antoine." He shook he hand and gave her a quick surveying glance. The shirt was backless and combined with the high heeled sandals and the tight jeans combined for a package that said "come hither". Damn, it's like they're coming out of the woodwork or soemthin' He smiled as he back his way to a row of bench seating and plopped down, "Have a seat."

The top revealed a whole lot of skin, both behind and up front and Antoine decided that he'd best not stare too much since he didn't really want to seem that interested. Still, I wouldn't mind getting a little action, given how close I was just now. He turned toward her and without intending to his eyes met hers. Holy fuck! He held on as long as he could before his eyes practically darted out of his skull. That is one damn horny chick and she's looking for action. Antoine blinked a couple of times, unsure if he should make a hasty, if rude, exit or ask her upstairs for what would probably be some great sex. Choices, choices. None of them easy.

"So, are you new to the school? I don't recall seeing you here before." Antoine asked her casually, trying to gage if she was just horny as hell and a bit crazy or crazy as hell and a bit horny. While he did so he looked around the patio nonchalantly. As he did so he spotted Anita, "Anita the Latina" as the other guys on the team called her. Apparently she was aloof and hard to get, she was also staring right at him. He and Amber. Jealous much? Cheerleader girl doesn't like that's I'm chattin' up a girl from outside the squad eh? Antoine turned back to Amber, still unsure if he wanted to tangle the sheets with her but certain he wanted to send a message that he wasn't the cheerleading squads personal plaything.

[z-Amber Wren]

Despite the heady smell of beer, promising chemical pleasure, Amber took a small sip. She quietly acknowledged that setting aside drugs had given her other vices a larger rein. Her metabolism took care of overeating, but it did nothing for the libido. If anything, the promise of those endorphins were all the sweeter for their current lack. And his clinging clothes were no help either; he had few secrets at the moment and she was very appreciative of the view. So she couldn't set it aside, not yet; she cradled it in her hands and tried to forget it was there.

She sat next to him on the bench, then had to fight back a mixture of pride and chagrin when he had trouble meeting her eyes. Amber really wished she could dial her feral self back, just long enough to get laid. Though, if he was easily intimidated by her, she wasn't sure she wanted him, not even for a one-time emergency fuck. So, fuck it - she'd be herself.

"School?" She laughed a little. "No, I crashed the party." There was no shame in her voice, only a touch of micheviousness, a hint of the bad girl that lurked hidden within her. "I mean, you post 'ladies get in free' and you're going to get a couple of crashers. No one's minded yet." She arched a thin brown eyebrow and tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear as she added, "Unless you mind, Antoine."

Yeah, there was a bit of heat when she said his name.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

All in all, it was a confusing evening. More and more people seemed to be drawing Lucien - and by extension, Sarah - into conversation. As her "date of the moment" bashfully tried to change to other topics, their host came dashing out of the house and launching into a beautiful dive into the pool. A flicker of memory came to the fore, a similar dive, but the pool was full of... seals?

The half-remembered bit of her frenzy of a few nights past didn't quite come into full resolution before her eyes caught those of a well-dressed but unassuming guest. The result was anything but expected, as his eye went impossibly wide, began trembling, and then - after looking around in obvious panic and desperation - made a mad dash for the garden wall, using a chair for an assist.

Sarah stopped breathing. In fact, she stopped everything except moving her eyes around in fear of similar panic from the guests. When none was apparent, she quickly flicked her tongue out over her teeth, checking to make sure that the ever-so sharp incisors were nice and tucked away. Reassured, her brow furrowed at the man's reaction. There was no mistaking it; he had reacted in abject terror to her. And then, it clicked: she'd seen this before.

The one and only time that Sarah had dared enter the trap that was Las Vegas, all of about a month after her death and rebirth, she had watched another recent embracee nearly walk into her and completely lose his shit in the process. Her own beast had flared, threatening to tear off after the poor kid. Wrestling the beast back down had been a task, and that was when old Juan had pulled her aside to explain that the twisting thing at the core of every vampire reacted in a fight-or-flight response to other vampires. He went on to tell her that she'd never have to worry about flight, as part of her Gangrel heritage. But the fight part could occasionally be an issue.

So why the hell didn't I feel his... oh. He's one of those. By "those", she mentally tagged him as one of the kindred who could mask various things, including their beasts. Great. Just great. The first vampire I meet in L.A., and he's a sneaky cloaking bastard who I just ran off in a fear frenzy. Yeah, this just keeps getting better and better. Sighing, she belatedly realized that someone new was introducing himself to the little cluster around Lucien. And this someone... well, he wasn't giving off a feeling of a beast, but damned if he didn't look like he should. Rugged and confident and with a predatory look about him that she had seen in relatives and associates for most of her two lives, the guy might not have been a werewolf - there was no way to know for sure, really - but if he wasn't, it was a helluva semblance of one. Curiosity and hope overrode caution, and she stuck her own hand out to take Declan's in a firm shake. "Sarah," she said with just the hint of a nod.

[William Rose]

Antoine turned back toward Amber, tossing Anita out of his mind. Rich, snobby cheerleader, no way that she'd be Ashe ... wait maybe this girl is Ashe, crashing the party to find me, him, whatever... Antoine suddenly gave Amber a second once over glance, as if appraising her. He tried to meet her eyes again but shied away at the first hint of that ravenous look. Maybe she’s crazy AND horny. I can think of worse things but there’s no way this is Ashe. Antoine realized that the revelation made him crestfallen, he really would like to meet Ashe but things were moving along so well that he was almost afraid to find out who she really was. And with football about to start up he’d have nearly no time free for a girlfriend.

An ever so slight sad look crept into Antoine’s face as he replied to Amber. “Doesn’t bother me, but then it’s not my place or my party, I posted it up because more people would look at it that way. So if you don’t attend what do you do? A model maybe?”

[z-Amber Wren]

Well, this was going well. He was getting sad, for whatever reason. He might be going through some "issues" or "working some stuff out." Regardless, Amber wasn't sure she wanted whatever baggage he seemed to be attaching to what should be a simple matter. First Declan, which is emminantly fuckable and completely off-limits, now this. What the fuck is up with my fucking luck tonight?

Amber wasn't a fan of beating around the bush, so she locked her gray eyes on his firmly. "No, I'm not a model. That'd be nice, but no. Look," she said, "this is going to come out wrong, but I'm going to say it anyway. I have a shitty life. I live in West Hollywood. I work all the time, I barely make enough money to pay for my crappy apartment and I just got out of a bad relationship, where I was left because I didn't give my man his fantasy. I really don't want to talk about myself, because that's what I'm here to escape."

Amber dragged a hand through her straight brown hair a casual gesture that didn't match the intense look in her eyes. "I came to have fun, and hopefully to find someone to have fun with. I appreciate you making the small talk, but that's not my speed. And if my speed is not your speed, I'd rather know now, while I still have a chance of snagging someone who isn't too drunk to have a good time.

"But if you'd like to have fun," she said reaching out to brush one finger along his jaw, "I'll show you an incredibly fun time. And that's a promise." She finished with a smile, a promising curve of her lips that guaranteed that she was as good as her word, that she knew some incredibly interesting things that Antoine would enjoy, a lot.

[z021]

Oneca made her rounds at the party, beings social enough with the right people to score more of the hard liquor and light drugs floating about. Now comfortably numb inside her she scouted for something interesting to do tonight. She watched the quaterback's full-clothes dive into the pool, but with no one deciding to one up the tall dark man, she decided that this party was still far too quiet.

She slipped back inside the house and found the sound system. A gaggle of girls, mostly sophomores from the look of it, were clustered around the cd playing going through the collection of whoever's house this was and picking out generic party rock with a depressing regularity. Oneca thought if she had to listen to one more Nickleback song about how sorry his dad was, she'd scream. She scanned over the racks of music and pulled out the xXx soundtrack. Not the best, but at least it'd get people moving. She popped the cd in the player, ignoring the squawked protests of the younger girls.

She fixed them with an exasperated glare. "It's a frat party. Either get laid or get smashed, but stop treating it like your high school prom. Here. Drink." She pushed her cup, which was mostly only beer, into one of the girl's hands and pinned her in place with her stare until the girl finished it. It'd take about 15 minutes for the rest of it to kick in, but if the girl was as much a lightweight as Oneca pegged her for, then those three were probably in for a interesting evening. She flicked her eyes to the other two. "Well, you can either play mommy and daddy for the rest of the night, or go over there and talk to Remy," she pointed to a dusky skinned man with curly black hair that was laughing on the couch in the living room amidst a small crowd preppy-looking students, "and have a bit of fun yourself. Ciao."

Rammstein was already pumping through the house when she made her way back outside, the base easily carrying halfway down the block. People were starting to dance in that frentic, almost violently sexual way that drunken teens perfected in the rise of the metal era. She scanned the crowds again, framed in the doorway to the back yard, and looked for someone dangerous enough to be interesting.

[Lavinia Foscari]

Anita knew she was staring. Her thoughts were racing and her heart beat faster. She could feel her cheeks blushing and excitement rushed through her veins. That woman was hitting hard on Antoine but he seemed reluctant. Not very but just a little.

He was smiling a lot and his white teeth contrasted strongly against his ebony dark skin. She understood why that woman was hitting on him. Antoine was really handsome and extremely well built. God she wished she had arrived earlier to the party. She wished she was sure about him, because then she'd walk over there and reveal herself to him and he would take her in his arms and kiss her pationately.

But she didn't know. She was only hoping and with each beat of her heart her hope diminished as she saw his response to her. She could tell by their bodylanguage that they were already tearing their clothes of eachother mentally.

Her anxiety changed quickly into anger and she fought back furious tears. She looked at him, searching his eyes and for a short moment he saw her. Her fury was swept away, replaced by sadness and a hint of disappointment. Even if he wasn't her internetlove, she felt hurt and it showed all in her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek which she quickly swept away. Then she stood up and turned away from the pool, she had to get away from them. She couldn't bear watching him making out with that tramp.

[William Rose]

Originally Posted By: Amber Wren

"But if you'd like to have fun," she said reaching out to brush one finger along his jaw, "I'll show you an incredibly fun time. And that's a promise." She finished with a smile, a promising curve of her lips that guaranteed that she was as good as her word, that she knew some incredibly interesting things that Antoine would enjoy, a lot.

Antoine tried not to gape. Wow, crazy, horny, and aggressive. Damn, this is either a jackpot or I'm in over my head. He didn’t reply right away, taking a moment first to reassess the offer and the offerer. Then he glanced toward Anita the Latina to see what kind of reaction this was getting.

Originally Posted By: Ashe

Her anxiety changed quickly into anger and she fought back furious tears. She looked at him, searching his eyes and for a short moment he saw her. Her fury was swept away, replaced by sadness and a hint of disappointment. Even if he wasn't her internetlove, she felt hurt and it showed all in her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek which she quickly swept away. Then she stood up and turned away from the pool.

Whatthefuck? What the fuck was that? Bewilderment rolled up in his mind and kicked out the jams. A rush on confusing and conflicting emotions boiled within his mind. This isn’t right, you don’t know this girl from a hole in the wall. And what about Ashe, its safe to say this aint her. Of course then there’s Anita, what was up with that look? The rational portion of his mind gave it a good college try but was still half in the bag and even on his best day it wasn’t exactly a champ.

His libido walked in and took stock of the situation, surveying the tussle between reason and bewilderment it offered a more simple third point of view. Dude, LOOK at her, she’s nearly as smoking as that goth chick and at least four times as horny. AND she’s got crazy written all over her and you know it, and you know what that means in bed! AND seriously, its not like Ashe is going to know, plus you guys aint dating or anything. Oh and may I point out that SHE’S GODDAMM FUCKING HOT!! It’s a lock man, who the hell are you to say no?

Antoine’s response was slow, it would have been comical but instead it just came off like he was stating a given. “Ummm, yeah, lets go do that thing.” Suddenly his hands all but itched to explore her every curve and it was everything he could do to not just throw her over his shoulder and walk into the house with her like that. Instead he took her hand and stood up.

[Astra D.]

Dimly, she was aware of a sudden chorus of cheers erupting as some drunken fool charged past and hurled himself over the fence, but his antics could simply not compete with the prospect of chatting up Lucien "The Package" Hunt.

Originally Posted By: Declan Perault

"Ladies, gent: Hi. I'm Declan." he offered a calloused hand in the general direction of Lucien as his silver eyes swept around the circle, meeting those of everyone in the group.

Over the black frame of her shades, Morgan's lashes fluttered in something like shock as she tore her gaze away from Lucien to greet the newcomer. That greeting didn't make it to her lips before her brain registered who the massive man actually was. Her pupils constricted as she darted a look at the groundskeeper, the tiny black points all but swallowed up in pools of gold-flecked jade. She wasn't afraid, per se; not here, in such a crowd. There was, however, something decidedly unsettling about Perault, especially in such close proximity.

It's not the eyes, really... she thought, eyebrows knitting together in somber contemplation of his features. It's like... Like he takes up all the available space, like he draws in all the air just by standing close to you.

Strange as those silver eyes were, it wasn't the color that registered in the back of her brain so much as the life behind them. She wished she'd put more effort into auric studies, because Perault's fairly hummed. Vitality radiated from him in waves, leaving her with the curious sensation that someone had grabbed her by the base of her spine and the nape of her neck and pulled gently (but insistently) in opposite directions.

And that was just from the smile.

I swear, I will never skip the ashtrays again. Ever.

"Declan," she repeated, mindful of Sarah's introduction and stubbornly refusing to give in to the urge to go... over there. Somewhere. Perhaps to talk to Sk8r D00d.

"I'm Morgan, and this," she continued, lifting her cup in the darker girl's direction, "is my friend Reva." She swayed suddenly as a sharp elbow dug itself abruptly into her side, and then leveled a withering glare at the wide-eyed companion she'd just introduced. Clearly, some non-verbal communication was in effect.

Reva quickly turned her attention to Declan. She offered him a polite, if hasty smile and a half-wave, and then just as swiftly gave Morgan a look that said, "Gee, thanks for telling the psycho my name. You're a pal."

[Lucien Hunt]

Quote:

"Ladies, gent: Hi. I'm Declan." he offered a calloused hand in the general direction of Lucien as his silver eyes swept around the circle, meeting those of everyone in the group.

It was official. There may not have been a God per se but there was something look out for Lucien tonight. Crazy Perault, I owe you one.

Lucien extended his hand for introductions, patiently waiting for Morgan and Sarah's turns to pass. As he waited he could do nothing but stare at the man, his eye transfixed on him as a whole. To those who noticed, it easily would have been mistaken for admiration. The Warlock however, saw more than anyone could realize. A bright, vibrant deep red anima surrounded the man, outlined in a light ring of light blue. Needless to say it did nothing to absolve any thoughts pertaining to his sexual preference.

That was three. Three strange animas surrounding people this evening and Lucien had no idea what they all meant. It had been nearly ten seconds of Declan waiting on a hand shake before Lucien was startled from his contemplation. His mind wasn't quite in focus and didn't even realize his mistake until it was said.

"You must be Crazy Perault," He meant to say 'Declan', really he did, but his mind was still floating off on the ephemeral planes of daydreaming and problem solving. He was so distracted he never even noticed he was in error. "Lucien Hunt, pleasure to meet you. Heard a lot about you."

He gripped the man's hand and firmly shook it.

[Owns-The-Night]

He shook Sarah's hand gently but firmly, nodding in friendly fashion as she gave her name. There was something odd in the way she returned his gaze, showing more polite curiousity than fear or discomfort. He shrugged off the uncomfortable sensation that she knew him for what he was.

Morgan's reaction was a little more interesting, her initial response was as the werewolf had expected: disquiet and fear. But there was more to it, he realised. Rather than looking anywhere but at him like her friend, the sophomore was studying him as if seeing him for the first time, a strange consideration in her eyes warring with her instinct to go far, far away. He lifted his cup in a quiet greeting to her and her friend, chuckling under his breath at Reva's reaction.

Originally Posted By: Lucien Hunt

"You must be Crazy Perault," He meant to say 'Declan', really he did, but his mind was still floating off on the ephemeral planes of daydreaming and problem solving. He was so distracted he never even noticed he was in error. "Lucien Hunt, pleasure to meet you. Heard a lot about you."

He gripped the man's hand and firmly shook it.

Declan's friendly smile became a grin that showed a lot of tooth, his grip tightening a little around Lucien's manicured hand, and his eyes narrowed to silver slits. These were the only outward signs that the werewolf was contemplating mayhem.

Fucking punk thinks he can insult me here, just because he's rich and pretty? Won't be so pretty with his face ripped off and used to wipe my ass with.. In the back of Declan's throat and on the cusp of human hearing, the Wolf growled at the apparent challenge.

Declan visibly got a grip on himself. No... No challenge, no mockery. The kid was out of it, looked like. Lot on his mind, perhaps? He didn't smell of drugs or too much booze. Play it cool... don't shit near where you live.

"Afraid I've not heard that one before." he replied in a deceptively mild tone, still grinning as he released Lucien's hand from his grip. "Crazy Perault, eh?" He looked at the other three, seeing discomfort on Morgan and Reva's faces and mild confusion on Sarah's before looking back at Lucien. "So, Lucien... What else exactly have you heard about me?"

[Lucien Hunt]

Craz... oh, damn it Lucien, pay attention! This guys penis got shot off in the Middle East and you'r calling him nuts? A hint of fear and embarrassment lurked behind the large, startled eyes and the wide grin. Get a grip, so the man is a trained killer and spoon a frat boy his intestines for flicking a cigarette butt on the lawn. You can handle this though, relax.

"Uh.... huh... heh..."

I'm dead... so dead...

Lucien stood there, still holding the man's hand. Intimidate by the man's presence, and iron-like grip, Lucien stumbled yet again. "Well, I uh, I've heard a lot actually... people around here seem to fear and idolize you all at once. I think it's the wolverine muttonchops thing you got going there."

[Carson Jones]

Carson slipped back into lucidity some 45 minutes after the girl led him up the stairs, with a brewing headache...hell, he had an everythingache. Did I black out? What in the hell happened? I feel like I just got tied up and viciously was had sex with.

He opened up his eyes, and looked around. Lo and behold, by all appearances he hit the nail on the head with a tactical nuke. Sure enough, he was tied--handcuffed actually--to the headboard, butt naked, and his torso was crisscrossed with welts and scratches. From the feel of things, his back was too. To make things worse, he still wasn't sober by a long shot. Once the room stopped spinning, he started tugging at the cuffs, trying to slip his hands out or at least something to get him out of the current predicament.

After a minute or two of this, he was really yanking on them, trying to break either the chain or the headboard. He braced himself for another yank, and a sudden surge of strength went into his arms as he jerked. The headboard where he was cuffed didn't quite break. It shattered, the wooden post breaking into hundreds of tiny little splinters as his hands came free. With another quick yank, the chain between the cuffs was broken too. Dimly realizing that he wasn't quite out of the woods yet, he tried to roll out of the bed, with marginal success. He realized only too late that his feet were bound too, and his head cracked onto the floor with a loud thud. Letting loose a stream of curses that would make a sailor hide his head in shame, he spent a few minutes struggling to get himself to sit up with his legs still stuck up on the bed, before with a grunt of effort he finally hoisted himself back up onto the bed, looking at the bindings with a decidedly irritated glare.

Thankfully these weren't handcuffs, and he got himself untied reasonably quickly considering his headache and the drunkeness. He recognized the cloth after he untied himself for what it really was: The tattered remains of his shirt. Now that he was finally free, he decided to try this "getting out of the bed" business again. After a moment of looking around, he found his boxers, and his shoes. The rest of his clothes were nowhere to be found. Ugh...just my DAMN luck...Last time I come to one of these things..

Thankfully, he found a pair of jeans, if they could be called that on him. On the 6'2" track star, these things looked like his girlfriend should be wearing them instead of him. He adjusted himself properly with a wince, and left the room, his head pounding and his vision kinda blurry. He walked back downstairs, and managed to find his way to the drinks, where he looked for something nice and non-alcoholic like water, or a Coke.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Well, fuck. I've seen this show before. And she had. Countless times, actually. Back home with the Wren clan, the kind of glare that Declan was giving was exactly the sort of thing that happened right before some low-ranking fuzzy - or worse, someone who was just kin - got their ass handed to them for making a serious faux pas. Those ass-handings were exactly the kind of thing that Sarah had been referring to with Lucien earlier that had driven her to medical school before her world became a night-only affair.

That said, she also had seen enough back then - and in the nights since, with the packs she had loosely dealt - to know that this didn't have to turn into a bloodbath. Placing her hand carefully on Lucien's chest, she pushed him back gently but firmly while keeping Declan directly in her line of sight. Lowering her head just so to give him the proper deference, she let her eyes drop down a touch before saying, "He didn't mean anything by it. You know how kids talk, how rumors go. And your look does kind of stand out. It's not a challenge." At that, her eyes came back up to meet his... and she hoped to Luna that he caught exactly what she meant.

[Owns-The-Night]

There was a long pause as Declan's gaze turned from Lucien to Sarah. Her words, and the manner of them, penetrated his irritation. He let out a long, slow breath, nodding in acceptance of her logic. She's used to this... Wolf-blooded? What're the odds of meeting another Uratha and a kin in one night? He resolved to find out... later. Looking back at Lucien, he tilted his head to one side and smiled, a trifle forcedly.

"I know how rumors go round and get blown out of proportion." he said by way of a peace offering. "It figures there'd be rumors about me, and I probably shouldn't get bent out of shape about it." He looked at Lucien, then around at the two other students, then to Sarah, and smiled a bit more genuinely.

"How's this for a fresh start? I'm Declan Perault. Pleased to meet you all." He raised his cup to them and drained it before continuing. "Now to break the ice, let's grab some more drinks and you fine people can ask me how many of the rumors about me are true, and I get to find out what those rumors are." He grinned good-humoredly. "Sound good?"

[Lucien Hunt]

The tragedy was averted for now it seemed, despite Lucien almost making it a complete train wreck. He normally was on his game pretty well, rarely would he make mistakes like the ones he was tonight. The myriad of colors that assaulted his sense was distracting to say the least and the young Mastigos was experienceing first hand why Mage's who could keep their thought's sharp kept the their Mage Sight off.

Simple, yet common mistakes, but the playboy model knew little of what he did. With no mentor to instruct him the whys and wherefores of who, and what he was now sensory overloads like this one promised to be popular and numerous.

He squinted, like the dazzling ray of light had shone into his eyes (Declan's vibrant aura) and he slid on a pair of shades to counter the colors. An odd move, but he didn't seem to wait for anyone's approval. "Sounds great Declan. You uh, live on campus or off?"

It wasn't much of an ice breaker, but Lucien's wits hadn't quite recovered from the slip and fall.

[Astra D.]

In the span of a few tense moments, the atmosphere seemed to go from "Prelude to a Massacre in E Minor" to "Awkward Coming of Age Teen Special," and Morgan was, frankly, about two drinks too far gone to keep up with the speed at which things changed.

"Yes," the raven-haired girl finally nodded. "Yes, that sounds absolutely fan-fucking-tastic. Though," she amended, hazarding a slightly crooked grin at the imposing university employee and tipping her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "some of these rumors are pretty..." She hesitated for a moment, considering an appropriate descriptor. "Colorful," was the best she could offer tactfully, which fell far short of the mark.

As Lucien stumbled his way through the conversation, she couldn't resist a rather skeptical glance in his direction. Weren't rich kids supposed to go to charm school, or something?

Even Reva, who'd been fearfully silent throughout the emotionally-charged exchange, rolled her eyes and groaned softly. Morgan couldn't blame her, but she also couldn't think of anything that would qualify as witty banter at the moment, either. Lacking anything better to do, and wanting desperately to do something, she pulled a slim silver case from the back pocket of Reva's hip-hugging shorts. There was a quiet snap and a quick flare of blue flame as she lit a fragrant black cigarette and took a long drag. Silvery smoke wreathed her head in clove-scented whorls, yielding a surprisingly distinctive aroma that was both spicy and sweet.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

The sudden flare of a lighter caught Sarah off-guard, and her Beast showed its own flare in response. Irrational panic at the tiny bit of fire threatened to take hold, and even as it formed, she knew that it would be an unmitigated disaster if it happened; unlike the poor bastard she'd scared off earlier, there was no clear path for her to run. In an internal war, she wrangled with the thing that dwelt within her... and at the end of an impossibly long three seconds, she came up the winner. This time, she reminded herself. This time.

A tad paler than a moment before, she nodded in agreement with the general sentiment. "Drinks and a fresh start sound pretty great to me," as she put Lucien as much between her and Morgan's burning clove as possible.

[Owns-The-Night]

Originally Posted By: Lucien Hunt

"Sounds great Declan. You uh, live on campus or off?"

It wasn't much of an ice breaker, but Lucien's wits hadn't quite recovered from the slip and fall.

"Just off the campus." Declan gestured in the general direction of his home. "The university set me up with a little place up the road. So who's havin' what?" He grabbed and passed round drinks for all that wanted them, concentrating on this normal mundane task as a bridge between him and these humans.

He grunted with amusement, smiling wryly in response to Morgan's diplomatically-phrased statement. He enjoyed the sight of her crooked grin, and the fact she'd pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. She seemed to be a little more relaxed toward him, though her little friend still seemed inclined to disappear given half a chance. Even the girl's cigarette wasn't offensive, the smoke pleasant enough to his sensitive nose.

"I bet the rumors can get pretty fuckin' worse than colorful, girl." He grinned at Morgan. "When I was in Afghanistan, rumor got around a unit faster than the real thing, and it got bigger with each retelling." He sipped his beer and shrugged as his pale eyes watched the others. "Mostly, I think that's because folks like stories more than news."

[z021]

Oneca's eyes eventually tracked to the intense cluster of people around the infamous Lucien Hunt. A quick once-over of him told her that he was more than likely just what he appeared to be: soft, sexy, and rich, and little more. The others though, some of them looked promising. Hell, even that groundskeeper, Perrin or something, was looking interesting tonight. She started making her way over, moving through pool-side dancers and the occasional they-probably-should-have-found-a-room-by-now couples -- or groups. She sidled up to the goth chick that had just lit up a cig and pulled one of her own vanilla cloves from the pack tucked in her boot.

"Gotta light? I forgot mine." She smiled, all genuine nicotine addiction and vodka buzz.

[z-Amber Wren]

Amber smiled as Antoine's large hand slipped into hers. There was a long, long moment when she wasn't sure he was going to agree. There had been that weird look over at the woman aross the pool, who seemed to be one or perhaps all of the luggage that was giving her such problems with him tonight and making her second guess whether he was the one she should take home, figuratively. Another look at his dark features and she decided that it would sort itself out. And if it didn't, it's not like she couldn't take care of herself. Despite Antoine's clear physical prowess, Amber could take him, if she decided to. She wouldn't, not unless she had to - being physically overwhelmed by a man could be fun.

Of course, now that she had him, what to do with him? They couldn't go back to her place; too far and it was a shithole. She waited until they were outside, then led him to a dark corner with gentle tugs on his hand. She let go of his hand and curled her arms around him, leaning in close enough that he could feel her and that she could get his scent. "You got a place near here?" she murmured, rubbing her nose against his chin. "Or do we need to make arrangements?"

It was his last chance to bow out. Well, not truly. It was his last chance to bow out without pissing her the fuck off. She could still go back into the party and get someone else.

[Graham Johnson]

Graham removes his feet from the pool, and dries them off with a small washcloth he takes out of his back pocket. He then puts the washcloth back. Graham puts his socks and work-boots back on and stands up. He looks around and spots the small cluster that was Declan, Lucien, Morgan, Sarah, and Reva. Graham smiles a bit warily and slowly makes his way over towards that cluster. When he arrives, he clears his throat, trying not to scare anyone or take anyone unawares. He smiles a small smile at Lucien, recognizing him from the C.K. ad. Graham then turns to the rest of the small clique and nods his head. "Hey. Fun little get-together, isn't it? I'm Graham." He raises his beer to the others in a sort-of salute.

[Lavinia Foscari]

Originally Posted By: Amber Wren

She waited until they were outside, then led him to a dark corner with gentle tugs on his hand. She let go of his hand and curled her arms around him, leaning in close enough that he could feel her and that she could get his scent. "You got a place near here?" she murmured, rubbing her nose against his chin. "Or do we need to make arrangements?"

It was his last chance to bow out. Well, not truly. It was his last chance to bow out without pissing her the fuck off. She could still go back into the party and get someone else.

Anita watched the woman leaving with Antoine who seemed more than willing to oblige. Her disappointment hit the bottom of her emotional turmoil and ricocheted back to anger. Fuming she turned on her heels and made an exit just where the two of them had gone. She wanted to make sure he saw her, she wanted him to regret what he was doing.

As she got closer she heard the last bit of what the woman said to him and she couldn't hold back anymore. She flashed them an angry look and shook her head in disgust saying, "Big Easy, I think I understand now..."

Anita didn't seem to bother waiting for his reply and headed towards the exit fumbling for her car keys. How can he even dare to! But then again, you're not sure if it's him, you stupid girl. Keep your dignity for god's sake!