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

[Adrian Moss]

He came to in a culvert with some bushes growning about the barred drain. It was cover of a a sort. Adrian looked himself over but there wasnt' enough light. He had to scramble out and walk over toward one of the streetlights that dotted campus.

At least he was still on campus.

The light revieled a worn and torn jacket, dirty pants, but not torn, and scuffed shoes. His shirt was still okay. The young kindred was so frustrated he wanted to howl out at the moon, but he was too shy and self-concious. He bit down on his frustration and began walking back the way he had come.

This was not as hard as it would appear. UCLA's campus was bordered on the north by Sunset Blvd. Sunset Blvd hit Hilgard Ave. and the Frat House Pre-Season Party was on Hilgard - and so was his car.

He passed two drunk coeds staggering away from the party as he was making his way down Hilgard and he briefly contemplated taking one of them. That would be rash and sloppy, though. He had already given in totally to his fears once tonight and he was going to be damned if he gave in again ... tonight. He went on his way.

A security patrol car gave him the once over as he got close, but he must have looked sober enough because they blessedly left him alone. It was well past an hour when he finally came to the house. He passed it and went to his car. Opening his trunk, he began stripping out of his closes. Three girls came by, heading to the frat party late.

As fate would have it, they passed Adrian right when he was down to his socks, shirt, underwear, and nothing else. He had hoped they would have blissfully passed him by, but they just had to stop, pointing, giggle and comment.

"Come alone?" on giggled. Now Adrian was embarrassed.

"Forget something," said another.

"Feeling a draft?"

"A girl throw up on me," Adrian lied. He had meant to come across as indignant, but it came out more like a whine.

The girls laughed. As they walked away they made other noises about swallowing and gaggging, followed by more laughter. A red rage flew up in Adrian, but he choked it back down. He wanted to lash out and feel they terror emenating off of them as he tore out their throats, but the shade was having none of that fantasy.

Instead, he got into his back up set of clothes. Jeans came on, followed by a black t-shirt with some band's logo. New sneakers were next and lastly he added a black leather jacket. He was half way to shutting his trunk when he stopped himself. He retieved his keys and wallet then shut it.

Now back to the party. He flashed the guy at the door his stamp instead of paying and made his way back into the press of vessels.

Barbara literally fell into his lap. Her would be boyfriend started throwing up and she ran away from him and into Adrian. She was too drunk to head the warning signs and when Adrian turned on his hunting skills, she was convinced she wanted to take a walk with him. Once they were in the shadows and away from the eyes of the masses, drinking deeply from her jugular was child's play.

Adrian walked her back to the door and deposited her drunki and unconcious form on the steps. Feeling buzzed slightly from her blood, the vampire hoped inside and made ready to find and, well ... he wasn't sure how he wanted to deal with the other vampire. Wasn't that a pickle?

[William Rose]

Originally Posted By: Ashe

She flashed them an angry look and shook her head in disgust saying, "Big Easy, I think I understand now..."

Antoine caught the look and the angry words. It wasn’t hard to, they was aimed right for him with all the force of a fastball. At first his mind failed to engage, too much wheel spinning inside as his mind tried to recover from Amber’s befuddlement of his mind. The mental clutch engaged though and Antoine got irate nice and quick. “Hey, what the hell if your problem anyway? You and your little cheerleader friends don’t own me, you know!” Irrational anger and frustration plowed over any feeling of lust that his libido had built up and Antoine drew himself up to his full height interposing himself between Anita and Amber at the same time drawing the latter closer as though to convey, Yeah, I was gonna bone the crap out of her instead of you!

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

The events continued to take a life of their own, and Sarah found herself with a rather full plate. Declan's mention of his "little place up the road" simply had to be the house up by Wyton with the marked trees, which put him pretty solidly in the "I need to talk to this guy" category. And there was also the matter of the other vampire, who she was pretty sure had just re-entered the party sporting jeans and a rock t-shirt of some sort. And of course, there was Lucien....

Her hunger gnawed at her, reminding Sarah that the main reason she had come to this little shin-dig was to get a meal. Leaning into Lucien's ear, she whispered, her 'breath' cool against his ear, "What would you think about finding someplace more private? A lot more private?" Subtle, she was not... but then, by this time of the night with the sheer amount of alcohol that had tumbled down mortal throats, subtlety was becoming pretty rare anyway.

[z-Amber Wren]

At first, anger flared in Amber like a white-hot flame, spurred on by her natural temper and her volatile werewolf nature. But Antoine got angry himself and pulled her tighter against him. Amber's outrage turned into grim amusement as she pulled Antoine a little closer to herself in turn. Let the jealous Latina choke on that!

"Wow, someone's possessive," she said, grinning cruelly. So she was a cheerleader? Perfect. Amber had always hated the cheerleaders in her high school, looking down on her because she lived way up in the mountains and was poor. It was those old, unforgotten grudges as much as the sweet taste of victory that loosened her tongue and made her call after Anita, "Hey, cheerleader, tirate a un poso, m'kay?" Her knowledge of Spanish was limited, but Ray had taught her some insults, and Amber didn't often get a chance to use them anymore.

And that mean, careless part of her was hoping this bitch came back for another round. Amber wasn't sure how Antoine felt about it, but slapping the shit out of some pretentious cheerleader sounded like a lot of fun.

[Lavinia Foscari]

Originally Posted By: Antoine LaSalle

The mental clutch engaged though and Antoine got irate nice and quick. “Hey, what the hell if your problem anyway? You and your little cheerleader friends don’t own me, you know!” Irrational anger and frustration plowed over any feeling of lust that his libido had built up and Antoine drew himself up to his full height interposing himself between Anita and Amber at the same time drawing the latter closer as though to convey, Yeah, I was gonna bone the crap out of her instead of you!

Anita stopped in her tracks and swiveled around yet again, pressing one hand against her hip and pointing with the other at him in a display of exaggerated bodylanguage that was typical for latinamericans.
"Do you even use that thing you call a brain!? OWN? Own you?! You know nothing about me you stupid hunk!"

Then the woman suddenly spoke out to her and her built up anger released into a full blown rage.

Originally Posted By: Amber Wren

It was those old, unforgotten grudges as much as the sweet taste of victory that loosened her tongue and made her call after Anita, "Hey, cheerleader, tirate a un poso, m'kay?" Her knowledge of Spanish was limited, but Ray had taught her some insults, and Amber didn't often get a chance to use them anymore.

And that mean, careless part of her was hoping this bitch came back for another round. Amber wasn't sure how Antoine felt about it, but slapping the shit out of some pretentious cheerleader sounded like a lot of fun.

"Calla te, tu hija de puta! Tu perra sencilla! Vete a la mierda!" (Shut up you whore! You cheap bitch! Go to hell), Anita's voice was trembling as she continued throwing spanish insult after insult at the woman in Antoine's embrace.

[Frank White]

Frank found the frat party will little difficulty, he had been tipped off to the location from a co-worker that he had gotten to cover his shift for tonight. He kept his dress casual, a loose fitting polo shirt to keep his gun concealed, and some blue jeans.

As he made his way onto the grounds a few of the students gave him looks of recognition, quickly moving away and hiding whatever they were drinking. Supposedly, there was going to be some big names from around campus attending this party, at least that's what he got from reading the Cal-Net. Always pays to check that out around here

Walking thru the door, Frank is overcome with that sights and sounds of the party. It certainly seems that things are in full swing here, he thinks as he scans the room. He spots the kegs and makes his way thru the crowd.

[Carson Jones]

After about 4 Advil and a bottle of water, Carson was feeling somewhat better. He was still drunk, but at least he was able to conduct himself in a semi-decent manner now that the headache was subsiding and he could see again. While moving around the party, he recognized the back of a head that was about 10 feet in front of him. A vindictive grin grew on his face as he walked up and hung his arms around the girl's shoulders, jingling the cuffs that were still around his hands. "I believe you have my wallet," he said into the girl's ear. The girl jumped like someone had just stuck a thousand volt electrode in a very uncomfortable place and turned to look at the drunken track star, her eyes torn between laughing at his appearance and a bit scared that she had left him there, and he had gotten out. One of the hands came up, the fingers snapping in front of her eyes as he said, "Come on, gimme the wallet. Don't make me start searching. I'm sure you understand that I've had a very stressful night, and something to make it more so wouldn't be very good for my mood." This was punctuated by a smile that had just the right hint of impatience and bad mood to it.

The girl gave a scared nod, and quickly opened up her purse, fishing out the worn leather wallet and practically shoving it into his hands, before she moved off across the room. She wasn’t quite so used to the guys getting free, and she was rather scared of being around him after that.

Carson forced the wallet into the back pocket of the jeans, barely getting it to fit inside. I’ve got to find another pair of jeans…these suck. He noticed a relatively large gathering of people, and walked up to see what was going on. Huh…that’s that billboard guy. What’s he doing here? That’s what went through his mind at the same time that, “Hey, you’re that billboard guy. What’re you doing here?” went through his lips. A couple of seconds later, he had an inkling in the back of his mind that he just made an idiot out of himself to a bunch of strangers.

[z-Amber Wren]

The curses and insults tripped off Anita’s tongue, and Amber understood them well enough to know what she’d just been called. Staring at the beautiful and, by her fancy clothes and car, wealthy woman, Amber felt that sweet song of rage in her blood. Tipping her head back, she laughed, a mocking sound. It wasn’t that this woman was calling her names – names were just words. It was the complete lack of respect she was showing Amber – and Antoine, though that was a secondary concern – and the woman’s assumption that she had any right to poke her nose into this situation.

“You don’t know who you’re fucking with,” Amber said in a quiet, sure voice that reminded Antoine a little of her promise to him earlier. This had more of a rumble, a soft, almost inaudible growl to it through, a hint of something not quite right in her throat.

Amber focused her will into her body, invoking one of her gifts from the spirits. Balling up her fist, she spun and drove it into the wooden wall beside her. She gloried in the violence and destruction as only those reborn under the full moon could and she was grinning as she pulled her hand loose. Blood and splinters were ignored as she flicked her hand, shaking the worst of the wood and blood away; a fierce ache in her hand, a sure sign of broken bones, was ignored. A pale stud gleamed in the hole she’d made, its thick length cracked from her fist.

“Remove your nose from my business and go home, Latina Princess,” Amber said, her voice still that soft growl. “Go home to mommy and daddy, before I get angry.” And do this to your face. That last bit was completely implied, but clearly communicated.

[William Rose]

Antoine’s eyes grew like flowers opening in a time lapse video into brown and white saucers. Jesus! She’s a fucking nutjob! Antoine stepped back an way from Amber his eyes darting between the two women but staying mostly on Amber. What the fuck? Did I trip down a goddamn rabbit hole on the way here tonight? Antoine raised his hands in a placating gesture as he backed away. “Whoa, just whoa. No need to get fucking violent or some shit. I … I think maybe I’m just gonna go back to the party.” Antoine leveled a look at Amber that practically screamed, …And running away from you psycho bitch. He took a few more steps backwards towards the door back to the patio before giving Anita a look as well. It was confusion and anger and worry all rolled into a single glance as he fumbled for the latch on the gate.

[Astra D.]

"A light? Sure."

Morgan nodded at the slim woman in slinky black. A flick of her thumb, a quiet rasp of metal, and there was a tiny blue flame illuminating the tip of Oneca's cigarette. The white of her teeth flashed in the dim light as she returned the smile, stowing the nickel-cased lighter in a tiny pocket near her belt.

"Before long," she mused, noting the steadily increasing number of people in their little group, "we'll have our own little party over here." The drink Declan had gotten her was still cool in her hand, and she turned the cup idly to and fro as she looked about the growing crowd. She didn't know any of these people, and she still wasn't entirely convinced that Crazy Perault wasn't, in fact, crazy; she was just slightly more comfortable in a group, and with a decent buzz.

When Graham introduced himself, her smile broadened, and the pale girl in the dark, dark makeup actually laughed. Going home with Perault was out of the question, even if part of her was more than a little curious if he'd be as intense as he looked... Hunt, regrettably, seemed more than a little occupied with the flame-haired Sarah, and Antoine had long ago wandered off to parts unknown. But this one had potential. Her smile turned secretive and slightly mischievous as she glanced down at his hands.

Oh, yes. Definitely has potential.

"Well, well. Drinks all 'round, and so many new faces! We'll be here all night, at this rate. So, to keep things simple..."

Originally Posted By: Carson's Failed Diplomacy Roll

“Hey, you’re that billboard guy. What’re you doing here?”

Morgan blinked, and tried not to laugh. Corn-fed was tall, lean, and apparently somewhat less than sober.

"Well, theoretically simple, anyway." She gestured toward herself, bringing her cup within inches of her corset-bound decolletage, and then continued around the rough circle of bodies. "Morgan, Sarah, Lucien 'It's not Photoshopped' Hunt, Declan..."

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

Reva was, by nature, a party girl. She loved to dance, loved to mingle, loved meeting new people. As the small group continued to grow, however, she felt herself unconsciously edging away from them. It was a strange sensation that crept slowly over her, almost imperceptible until Carson's abrupt arrival brought it into the forefront of her mind.

What she felt was something like pins and needles, or a nervous clench in the pit of her stomach. Morgan didn't seem to notice it, she realized, and the caramel-skinned drummer wondered if it was just the prevalence of alcohol in her bloodstream combined with a regrettable lack of food. They all looked normal enough, and they definitely weren't doing or saying anything stranger than the girls' own group of friends...

But something just seemed wrong about the group of partygoers introducing themselves and laughing about some of the rumors the groundskeeper inspired on campus.

"Hey, Morgan?" She leaned forward, murmuring in her friend's ear. "I'm... not feeling great. I'm gonna go see if I can find something to eat."

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

When Reva said she was leaving, Morgan paused in her introductions. She reached out with her free hand, running it lightly down the other girl's cheek as a frown creased her forehead.

"All right, but be careful. Sit down for a few, and I'll come check on you, all right?"

A wan smile and a nod was all she got in reply, and then Reva was gone.

[Lavinia Foscari]

Originally Posted By: Amber Wren

Amber focused her will into her body, invoking one of her gifts from the spirits. Balling up her fist, she spun and drove it into the wooden wall beside her. She gloried in the violence and destruction as only those reborn under the full moon could and she was grinning as she pulled her hand loose. Blood and splinters were ignored as she flicked her hand, shaking the worst of the wood and blood away; a fierce ache in her hand, a sure sign of broken bones, was ignored. A pale stud gleamed in the hole she’d made, its thick length cracked from her fist.

“Remove your nose from my business and go home, Latina Princess,” Amber said, her voice still that soft growl. “Go home to mommy and daddy, before I get angry.” And do this to your face. That last bit was completely implied, but clearly communicated.

Anita's eyes widened as she realized what the crazy woman had just done. She must be on crack or something!. Yet her anger hasn't washed away completely. She felt better after having vented but now that woman was starting to insult her parents and she couldn't just leave without doing something.

"I'm going to call the police. We'll see what they'll do with a crackwhore like you!", she reached inside her bag and hit 911 on her celphone holding it up to her ear and waiting for the call to be received while she watched the crazy woman through pissed of eyes.

"Hello? This is Anita de la Cruz. I'm at the UCLA Campus and...", Anita's eyes kept watching the woman. Her anger was subsiding and slowly replaced by fear. That woman was starting to scare the hell out of her.

[z-Amber Wren]

This was a fucking annoyance. The cops were always bad news. Amber considered her options. She could stop Anita, but if she was caught, that was battery as well as assault. If she hung around, it would probably be assault. Not that there was a point in hanging around now. God damn it... fucking wuss, she growled as she looked at the cringing Antoine.

But Amber had what she needed to right this injustice. Anita de la Cruz... later. Amber shot the latina beauty an incredibly dirty look - bringing in the cops was not cool. And it'd cost her a date as well.

Amber was irritated - actually, at the moment, she was angry, the famous Wren temper rising to the surface. But she wasn't dumb, and getting caught up with the cops would be a problem. "Fine, fine," Amber said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "It's not like I have anything to do at the moment anymore. Catch you later."

She turned and moved past Antoine, heading right back into the party. Still, she remained tense, waiting for Anita or Antoine or both to jump her. It wasn't that she was afraid of either, but she didn't want to get sucker punched.

[William Rose]

Antoine gave Amber wide berth as she fairly well stalked back onto the patio and into the party. Yeah, I think Anita actually did me a favor. She must be hopped up on something to punch through a wall like that as though it was nothing. Antoine slowly walked back into the party. He was sobering up fast and no longer in a mood to really party. May not be a full moon but the weirdoes are out in force regardless.

He moved slowly through the crowd mulling over Anita’s actions and words. He couldn’t figure her out. She seemed offended at his hooking up with Amber and yet likewise when he suggested her proprietary attitude toward him. He grabbed a can of Coke out of the cooler and found a lawn chair out front near the food. Score, there’s a little jambalaya left, he though as he dished up a bowl and sat down to think about all the odd little quirks of the evening. He tucked the Coke into his crotch, best to make sure that he wouldn’t be thinking with his dick for the rest of the night.

[z-Amber Wren]

Meanwhile, Amber moved quickly to the back, where the beer was. She'd last seen Declan here and there he still was, talking to the kids there. She moved up behind him and, keeping her head down so no one else would see her, murmured, "Cops on the way, just FYI. Catch you later." She didn't give him a chance to respond; if he wanted an explanation, he could try to get it from her later, not that it was his business. Of course, if they landed in the same pack, that'd change everything. Tonight, all he needed was the warning, in case he had something going on, something that would land him in hot water if he were caught here by them.

Amber turned and gave the crowd a quick scan. All she saw were more like Antoine: young men with their cocks in hand so long as the woman was docile enough. Declan was the only thing here remotely suitable-

Except him. He wasn't werewolf, not with his general demeanour. He wasn't one of these kids either - Amber was ignoring that some of these 'kids' were older than her - and he didn't look the kind to turn and run if a woman got a bit aggressive. Nodding, Amber walked right up to him.

She didn't have a lot of time, so all pleasantries went out of the window. "Hi, I'm Amber. Wanna go somewhere else and fuck for hours?"

[Frank White]

Originally Posted By: Amber Wren

Except him. He wasn't werewolf, not with his general demeanour. He wasn't one of these kids either - Amber was ignoring that some of these 'kids' were older than her - and he didn't look the kind to turn and run if a woman got a bit aggressive. Nodding, Amber walked right up to him.

She didn't have a lot of time, so all pleasantries went out of the window. "Hi, I'm Amber. Wanna go somewhere else and fuck for hours?"

Frank was taken a bit by the forwardness of the lady standing in fron of him. His eyes looked her up and down while he quickly consdiered her offer. Damm this shit is a dream come true. Let's see how this plays out. "Sure we can do that. Got a place in mind?"

[z021]

Oneca started at the sound of violence, glancing over in the direction of the breaking, splintering sounds. Shit. Remy better not have brought any of the heavy stuff here tonight. This place is too public and too planned. Cops be all over it if someone starts going loco. No one started screaming and nothing else started breaking, so Oneca relaxed a bit again and refocused on the little mini-party she'd crashed. Of the two men there, Perrin-what's-his-name definitely had the rugged-and-dangerous thing going, which was hot, but he was like a janitor or something at the school, which was not. Hunt in person did about as much for her as he did on a billboard, but the little red-head hanging off his arm was just as don't-tell-crazy-where-you-live as the janitor, and definitely lusting on blondie. This could be fun.

She stubbed her clove out on the ground and tossed it and her cup in a nearby trashcan. She stood up and held a hand out to Lucien, smiling, "Wanna dance?"

[SalmonMax]

"So."

His name was Filks. Douglas Filks. Kind of an unfortunate name, but you dealt the pack you were born with, right? Ariel had heard worse.

"So," she replied.

They were in a squad car, one of the newer ones. They were pretty nice. Good seats, AC...figured that she'd get to drive one of them now, just before she had a car of her own.

It was an awkward moment. Ariel and Douglas had been patrol partners for the better part of a year, following her moving to the West LA division. He was a good guy, but was pretty happy where he was. He'd made Officer III, which meant that he was technically the senior member of their pair, but the same lack of ambition that had him patrolling since before Ari was in college also meant he was okay letting Ari drive. And now she was moving on without him.

"Congrats on the exam score," Doug offered, taking another sip of coffee from the swank cup holders built right into the freaking dash.

"Thanks." Long rambling conversations had never been her strong suit.

Doug put his cup back and rubbed his chin. "So I guess that means we're not partners anymore."

Ariel nodded. "Guess not." Damn, that sounded cold. She really needed to say more there. But he was hurrying ahead too fast.

"So I guess your rule doesn't necessarily apply anymore."

Yeah...that's what she'd been afraid of. Her rule was never date someone you work with. And Doug was a nice guy, but...

She looked at him. God. Awkward. Should she smile? Yeah, better. "Doug..."

Unit forty, four-fifty in progress at university campus.

"That's us," Douglas said. His face was enough to tell that he could tell from HER face what she'd been about to say. They'd both been saved by dispatch.

"Don't they have their own cops on campus?" Ariel muttered. The address came up on the new squad car's swank little dispatch interface screen, and she hung a right. Wasn't even far off.

Doug shrugged. "Take the back street there. You'll miss the light that way."

The guy knew his beat. You had to hand it to him.

Four-fifty was public disturbance, and drunk and disorderly. They went together so often, a new designation was made to cover both when they were simultaneous. The dispatch tag added that the caller claimed to have been threatened, but no actual assault.

Ariel wasn't in the mood to dick around with ID or cokeheads in the bathroom, so she turned the siren on as they got closer. Hopefully the roaches would scatter, and all they'd have to do would be take some statements and file a report.

"Cover me, Doug," she joked as the car pulled up in front of the loud-music-blaring house. "If I go down, tell my kids I love 'em."

Doug cracked a grin as he opened his door and got out. "You know, if you keep joking like that, one of these days it's gonna happen. You're giving God ideas."

She returned the grin over the roof of the cruiser.

"He'd better hurry up then. Last chance."

They went up to the front door together, and Doug knocked.

And that's when Ariel caught it. Funny smell in the air. She frowned and looked over towards where there was a gate that led back around to the back of the frat house.

"Hey, you got it here?" she asked her partner absently. "I wanna check something." When Doug nodded and knocked again, louder (he'd say 'Police' next if no one answered), Ariel drifted to the gate and pulled the lanyard that held it shut. It creaked open.

Something in the bushes moved, and she jerked around, one hand dropping to the butt of her pistol. Service revolvers were out for patrol officers. Current policy was that you got to choose between a 9 mill or a glock 22. The glock was a .40 caliber, and was currently weighting down her holster. With effort, she yanked her hand back. What was that all about? This was a nice neighborhood, not Gangtown. Why did she suddenly feel like she was being -watched-? And not by an adoring audience either. Eyes like snakes, in the gloom, from the shadows, following her as she moved. She couldn't see them, but her skin prickled where they watched.

And that smell. Like a thunderstorm just before rain. Electricity. Power.

Is that Mary Jane? Probable cause? Fuck it, we got a call...

Ari pushed the gate open again and went back behind the house, not sure what she was looking for, but instinctively aware that it was near.

[Owns-The-Night]

"So yeah I was there, but in the Rangers, not Delta Force. And no, I have no burn scars." Declan chuckled at the question, then winked and stood up, making as if to unfasten his pants. "Wanna see?"

As the hasty chorus to the rough tune of "No, that's cool, we believe you!" rang out, Declan smiled and leaned back against one of the support pillars, finishing his sixth beer of the night. He was having a surprisingly good time.

Sure, Reva looked like she was about to run throughout the whole extended conversation, and all the other girls seemed to have their dials set to "Less wolf = fewer calories" or some shit but hey: can't win them all, right?

At least the two new guys to the group weren't assholes. He shook their hands and smiled in greeting, careful not to show his teeth: he belatedly realised that every time he did that, Reva in particular seemed ready to bolt like a rabbit with it's ass on fire. He got a good chuckle from the farm boy's opening line and clapped Lucien on the shoulder as consolation, though with Sarah whispering come-hither in the guy's ear it was a fair bet he didn't need much.

The first sour note came when Amber brushed up behind him and murmured a warning about the cops. He had no reason to be worried about police, but she obviously did. More interestingly, she smelled of blood and anger. He turned his head just enough to nod his thanks as she slipped off into the crowd. He'd find her later on to figure out what had happened.

As he looked back round, the slinky-looking chick in the silk dress was making a move on young Mr Hunt. He wondered if Sarah was the sort to fight for what she wanted, or whether she would let it go. Possible fun times either way, he supposed, and after grabbing another beer he was just settling himself in to watch when a police siren disturbed the party atmosphere.

[Carson Jones]

As soon as he heard the sirens, Carson did what 20 years of Iowa life had instilled in him: run. He took off like a shot, sprinting towards the back instead of the front, like most of the others were. Somehow, he managed to make it to the fence without stumbling or anything, and then set to what should have been the simple task of jumping the fence. He braced himself and leapt...and only got himself about halfway there. He strained to pull himself up over it, his feet trying to find traction against the fence, and after a couple of moments of kicking, finally found just enough to haul himself over.

He rolled off the other side, getting a pulled shoulder as one of the broken chain sections on one of the cuffs caught a protruding nail as he fell, which caused him to let out a loud curse. He freed himself, and started running off, trying to get away from the cops.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sirens. Great. And now, Clove-Girl.... The sirens were easy. Sarah had nothing on her that was remotely illegal, and her arm was around that of someone who wasn't exactly the type that cops casually toss into a paddy-wagon for a night in the tank.

Clove-Girl, on the other hand... now that was annoying. She'd invested time in Lucien Hunt, dammit, and hated to see that investment ruined. But there was nothing to be gained by making a scene; the last thing in the world that would help now was to make some territorial comment (or to let the angry thing in the pit of her broken soul rise up to do much, much worse). But doing nothing was just too much to ask. In compromise, she settled for giving Oneca a look. It was a simple look, really; just a small smile. With a bit of intensity to it. A smile that looked utterly innocent from anywhere other than dead-ahead... from which vantage point it seemed to say, "I may very well eat your liver at some point."

[z021]

Oneca's eyes slid over to meet Little Red for just a second as she waited for Lucien to respond. Her brow quirked in that brief moment, a challenge saying "You're certainly welcome to try."

[Lucien Hunt]

The thunder of Rammstein blaring through out the party certainly helped to get Lucien's mind back into focus. This Declan guy wasn't all bad, which he should have guessed. Most rumors are just that, rumors. He knew better and knew that his overachieving personality disorder would no doubt kick in later and he'd beat himself up over his silly mistake.

Leaning into Lucien's ear, the alluring siren of the night whispered, her voice soft and inviting, "What would you think about finding someplace more private? A lot more private?"

It was certainly an offer worth considering. Lucien had already embarrassed himself and break from all the strange colors and stammering would be a welcomed change. Besides, the frat boys acting like idiots were starting to annoy him. He could only take so much 'dude' 'bruhs' and and 'holmes'.

Until the energetic and attractive lady in black stubbed her clove out on the ground and tossed it away along with her drink. When she stood up, held a hand out and asked, "Wanna dance?" Her smile was inviting and her features nothing short of beautiful.

One dance couldn't hurt. The Warlock pondered looking over to Sarah who just invited him away not but a moment before. The fact that he was a sucker for a woman in tall black boots didn't help Sarah's case any. Just one, it'd be rude to decline such a lovely lady.

"Sure," He smiled. He looked to Sarah, in hopes of making her understand. "But just one, Sarah and I have to be going in a moment."

He took her hand and allowed her to lead him out away from the gathering freak show and into the mass of dancing co-eds.

[Astra D.]

The drama unfolding with Sarah, Little Miss Nihilism '08, and Pretty-Boy Hunt was, in Morgan's mind, better than any daytime soap-opera. At least, until the tall Iowan in too-tight jeans and dangling handcuffs (she noted that last for future reference) broke away from the group like a rogue Mustang thundering across the plains as the wail of sirens drew near.

Aw, shit, Morgan grumbled inwardly, rolling her eyes. She wasn't drunk enough to make an ass of herself, and the little group wasn't doing anything crazy, so she stayed put. Her displeasure was evident in the set of her jaw and the tautness of her lips, but she simply took another drag off her clove and exhaled, awaiting the inevitable flashlight beams and panicking co-eds.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"...just one..."

It wasn't an unreasonable request. Not in the least. That didn't matter a whole lot at the moment as Sarah's beast stopped hinting and started demanding that she turn Clove-Girl into a wet lump on the ground.

For about three seconds, it was a hair from getting its way. Then Sarah's will clamped down on the hateful thing like iron, and she calmly nodded and waited for her increasingly expensive meal to return.

And then, it hit. Not a rage, not a dire need to hurt someone. No, this was a wave of fatigue that washed over her with all the strength of a rising sun. Fuck, as if I'm not already hungry enough... With a tired sigh, Sarah reached into her inner reserves and burned a little bit more of her dwindling stock of all-important vitae, sloughing off the near-exhaustion like a cloak. Looking up into the dark sky at what few stars could be seen from the city, she muttered to herself, "Just had to be a new moon, didn't it?"

[z021]

Oneca pulled him away from the group, ignoring the sirens and giving Sarah another look that said she shouldn't plan on waiting around. She had to admit that Lucien was a bit....okay, a lot, more impressive up close and touching her. She smiled up at him as they danced, the fabric of her dress under his hands barely an impediment to feeling the skin beneath.

"The cops'll clear out out most of the idiots and kids; you should stick around. It's just starting to get fun." Her voice was mischievous and flirtatious; she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself now.

[Lucien Hunt]

Lust, desire, and a complete loss of control lingered dangerously close to the surface in the mind of the Mastigos Warlock. As they moved and swayed with the pulsing tempo of Feuer Frei, it was only too easy to forget things like restraint and self-discipline and lose himself in the pleasures his companion was offering, however temporary. She was exotic, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened upon her frame held his thoughts while the way she allowed his hands to explore her curves kept attention solely on her, and in the moment.

She backed into him, wrapping her arm back around his neck while his hands traced down her sides, trailing with painstaking slowness along the outer curve of her breasts and down to her hips. When they faced each other once more his eyes were locked on hers. Beads of sweet summer sweat mingled with the reflection off the pool's crystalline surface, adding a mysterious, ephemeral quality to her skin that left him utterly entranced.

As the music faded off into the background and the noise of the party could be heard between tracks on the CD, he stopped and smiled at the gorgeous woman draped loosely in his arms. "So, what's your na-"

"Unfinished business..." was whispered softly in his ear as coppery-red locks appeared over Lucien's shoulder to remind him of previous obligations. The attractive red head tugged on his arm gently, but insistently. She was hard-pressed to 'compete' with this new beauty clad in black, striking as she was with fiery hair and dressed in jeans that were practically painted on.

"Huh?" Lucien said, startled into stopping mid-sentence. "Oh, oh, right! So sorry, Sarah." He smiled to Oneca, his hypnosis broken by the return of his comely 'escort'. "We, uh, we need to get going. Thank you for the dance, you're..." He gave her lovely body a long, slow once-over from her black boots back up to her eyes. "Quite athletic."

Quite athletic? Ugh... Get. It. Together.

"Thanks again," he repeated, offering Sarah his arm. As they retreated from the throng of gyrating bodies, miraculously uninterrupted by the sound of sirens that didn't seem to have penetrated the alcoholic haze just yet, Lucien shook his head dazedly.

"There goes my future ex-girlfriend," he chuckled quietly, flashing Sarah a wry grin that would have left any mortal heart skipping a beat.

[z021]

Athletic? I feel like I'm in Zorro now. At least that makes me the lead. She grinned at him, though, and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek before Little Red took his arm.

"Y'know, you'll have to come back for my name, when you're done with her," she murmured. Her insinuation of Little Red's long-term possibilities with him were crystal clear, and her voice was pitched to carry just far enough for the other woman to hear.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Despite the tense moment, despite the barely-passed urge to wring Oneca's very pretty neck, Sarah couldn't help but return Lucien's wry grin in something approaching an apologetic manner. She may have been a monster, but it wasn't an entirely unfeeling one. Even the goth girl's call wasn't quite enough to set her off again; she knew that if things went at all as planned, Mr. Hunt's mind would definitely be very much distracted shortly. "That is how those kinds of things tend to go, isn't it? 'Future ex-girlfriend'... yeah, that probably sums it up pretty well."

Still, she didn't slow her step as she led Lucian away from the core of the gathering. By now, red and blue lights flashed around from the front of the house, and a number of the more 'questionable' guests had conveniently decided that it was time to find someplace else to be. So the crowd was thinned as she walked with the blond god, not toward the house, but farther back away from the lights into the shadows of the wooded back yard.

As the party finally passed out of sight behind the trees, Sarah turned to face Lucien, her body close to his. Without preamble, she pulled him into a kiss. This was not a thing of frantic heat and groping excitement. No, this was a kiss of tenderness, of care, with a promise of passion to come.

[Lucien Hunt]

The kiss came suddenly, but Lucien hardly turned it away. Sarah could tell his attention was back on her. A jingle echoed in the August night a set keys reflected light into their eyes softly.

"I'm a few blocks away, care for a night cap?" he said, the loss of breath still upon his every word.

[Astra D.]

As she watched the rich boy and the ennui-veiled princess gyrate, Morgan had to concede that they made a striking couple, if only because both of them could have walked out of a high-end fashion magazine. Her lip curled slightly, derisively, at the dazed expression on his face, and she finished her cigarette with a decisive twist of her heel that crushed it into the soil.

Gee, if I'd known he was that easy...

Of course, that only enhanced her surprise when he disappeared into the shadows with Sarah, leaving Oneca alone in the throng. Red and blue lights strobed the backyard, and people were slowly beginning to register that they were not, in fact, part of the standard party lighting.

With something like a scowl, she leaned back against a nearby tree and tipped back her glass, black vinyl creeping scant inches up her thighs as she crossed one ankle over the other and waited for the fuzz to leave.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Originally Posted By: Lucien Hunt

"I'm a few blocks away, care for a night cap?" he said, the loss of breath still upon his every word.

The request wasn't entirely unexpected, but it did leave Sarah with a certain quandry. Leave the party - complete with the planned conversation with Declan and some feeding beyond just Lucian? Or take him here, now, in the shadows and have the best of both worlds?

The beast, of course, knew its preference. *Take him! Feed us!* it cried in her mind.

But this was not to be the beast's night. There was something more to this man, this mortal, than met the eye; he'd shown such in their initial conversation, and then again when leaving the dance floor and the extraordinarily tempting Oneca for her older, plainer self. Sarah - that which was not the beast - was intrigued.

"A night cap sounds lovely," she said with a soft smile. "Your place it is." With one last gentle pressing of lips upon lips, the barest brush of soft skin, she took his hand once more and let him lead her off into the night.

[z-Amber Wren]

Amber didn't hestitate. "Anywhere but here," she muttered, grabbing his hand with her uninjured one and taking him toward the back. The lights were signalling that it was time to go, and Amber was taking heed. With quick glance around, she cut across the back yard of this frat, slipped through the parking lot and pushed through a hedge to get to the next frat yard. They weren't alone; any number of other people were doing the same.

Despite the fact that she was running, despite that others were chasing her, technically, Amber found she enjoyed this. The darkness, the heat of the August night and the warm mate-for-tonight running just behind her were all envigorating. Thoughts of doubling back and ambushing the police were contempted just enough to get her heart racing faster; she wasn't dumb enough to become a cop-hunter.

After they'd cut across several yards, Amber stopped, leaning against a dark building. She was panting a little, mostly from excitement, but that didn't stop the throaty chuckle that she released. She pulled her catch against her, letting him pin her to the wall. "My apartment is a shit-hole and far away," she murmured before kissing him, a possessive, intense kiss that betrayed her eagerness. After that toe-curling kiss, she nosed into his neck, licking his sweaty skin up to his ear. "Do you live closer, or do we need a hotel room?"

[Owns-The-Night]

He watched the two dance, a certain grudging admiration in his eyes for the way they moved together. That admiration was dampened somewhat by the clearly mazed look on Lucien's face as the dance ended and Sarah appropriated his arm. The man didn't know whether he was coming or going. Declan sympathised a little, though. On the one hand, a piece of clearly-up-for-anything in a silk dress that just stopped short of being a negligee, and on the other hand a feisty redhead who looked like she'd be a handful in the sack. Choices, choices.

To the early bird, the spoils. Declan watched the two disappear into the shadows and politely averted his gaze, glancing at Morgan, which was no great chore. She looked a little sulky, probably at not getting a dance from Lord Underwear. Too bad for him, then.

A cop was poking around the porch area, asking questions, so Declan got off the step and paced over to Morgan's tree, leaning one shoulder against it as he studied her with his head tilted slightly to one side. Up close she smelled good. Faint perfume, soap and shampoo, clove ciggies, a little sweat. His silver eyes took in her profile brow to chin, and a slight smile crooked one corner of his lips.

"Does this mean the party's over?" he asked her, his voice pitched low. Underneath the human voice, the Wolf was growling a little, but not in anger or challenge. No, this was altogether a softer growl as Declan continued "This is the first one I've been to, see?"

[Frank White]

The dash thru the dark was exciting as it was weird. He could sense a eagerness form this women that he had never felt from any other women before and that turned him on like never before.

Her kiss filled him with an almost uncontrollable lust, and the his words barely escape his lips. "I'm to...far away, hotel room would be much closer, but here...is fine." The bulge in his pants presses hard against her. She can hear the lustful want in his voice, the need for more. My god this is crazy, but damm it is fucking so right

[Graham Johnson]

Graham sighs when he hears the sirens, and finishes up the beer in his hand, grateful that he has done nothing wrong, especially since he was sober. He looks around, noticing the lady cop come through the gate. He smiles and returns to watching all the people pairing off. He sighs, and concentrates for a few seconds, his eyes closing. When he opens them again, he sees not just in front of himself, but 360 degrees around him. His attention is focused on the cop, even as he turns his back on her, pretending to be watching Morgan and Declan.

[z021]

Oneca leaned against the back wall of the house, watching the cops card some of the younger kids that hadn't had the brains to scatter yet. She saw her three sophomores making passes at the uniform and snorted in amusement. Idiots. Damn, Remy's long gone by now, too. Guess I'm finishing the party on alcohol alone. She was irked at losing to Miss Creepy Red Head, even if it did just seem like Hunt was being polite, and now she couldn't even get a good buzz going to kill time and see if he'd show back up again.

She wondered if she should even stick around now, or just call it quits for the night and head home. Home was where Saja was now, though, and she'd left a note saying she'd be out so it's not like she'd be worried. Oneca didn't want to go back before she was ready to pass out and she still had four or five good hours left before that. She fished another clove from her boot and pulled it up to her lips. She didn't have a lighter, but that never really mattered. She cupped her hands around the slender black stick and concentrated.

Nothing happened. Not even a little curl of ember-smoke. Well fuck. This is turning into a completely craptastic night. She leaned her head against the wall and took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on herself and make sure she didn't do anything stupid on accident, especially with cops around.

[SalmonMax]

When she sees the kid going over the fence, Ariel actually takes a few running steps after him...until she realizes that he's hardly alone. Stupid kids...took them this long? Or maybe she hadn't given them as much time as she thought she had. Oh well...no way she was going to go play Tag with the kiddies.

"Hey," she calls to one of the ones still drinking, holding his ground and sort of grinning as if daring her to arrest him. "Who's the host here?"

The music dropped a handful of decibels, then some more. Doug must have gotten inside after all.

The kid laughed and said, "He's this big black guy or something, right? Fucking ripped. Hey, you really a cop? We could dance or something, it's cool."

"What's his name?" Ariel asked crisply. The crispness was because she was trying to hard not to laugh. Had she ever been a student?

Did you ever stop?

At that, Ariel turned, looking around wildly. The whisper had been -right in her ear-. It had not been a hallucination. She was sure of that. She looked back at the kid, who was shrugging.

"Aunt...One?" he hazarded. "You okay?"

"Did you just see someone...was there..." Ariel couldn't ask without sounding like a complete dolt. "Damnit."

She turned and stalked towards the refreshments, looking for a tall 'ripped' black dude named 'Aunt One.' As she went, that feeling of being watched returned, hardcore. Shadows seemed to move in the corners of her eyes, making half-glimpsed shapes that leered and sneered at her. Something scuttled behind the ice chest as she scanned past it. There was a splash in the pool, but no ripples there when she turned to look.

By now not just spooked, but worried, Ariel returned to her search, trying to tune out the extraneous events. That smell...what if it had been some kind of drug? A hallucinogen or something? Shit.

"Hey," she said as she approached another knot of partiers near the refreshments. "Looking for the guy who set all this up. He inside, or outside?"

[Astra D.]

"Your first party?"

Morgan's surprise at Declan's unexpected question did wonders to cover up her surprise at his unexpected appearance. She held her half-empty cup in one hand and folded her arms over her chest, glancing back at him with a slight tilt of her head and a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes.

She had just enough alcohol in her system to ignore the quiet little voice in the back of her head, the one that usually tried so valiantly, and so uselessly, to keep her out of trouble. There was a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he was confiding a secret, and a subtle resonance in his voice that sent a pleasant tingle zipping through her blood.

Almost before she realized it, she had turned, angling her body toward him and arching a disbelieving eyebrow. She returned the smile in kind, half-coquette and half femme fatale as something in her responded to his confidence, and his admission. Whether it was the booze, the thrill of misbehaving, or the inattention of the other men, she was focused intently on their conversation and edging toward full-on "flirt" mode.

"No, it's not necessarily over. Usually, things just get quiet for a little while... People thin out, start to find more interesting ways to occupy themselves until the flashing lights are back in their heads where they belong. Just standing around, talking, isn't likely to draw their attention. They'll ask some questions, check an ID or two out of the obvious drunks to make a point, and then head back out for another round of Krispy Kremes and stale coffee."

She shrugged vaguely, indicating with a nod of her head the progress of the policeman making his way through the thinning cluster of students on the porch. As she did so, she noticed a female officer heading in their direction and asking where Antoine had gone. Or, at least, she thought that's what she was asking, but it was getting more difficult to concentrate with that woodsy scent Perault was giving off. In fact, she wasn't sure Antoine was in charge of the party at all, but he'd been the one to post about it and invite everyone out.

Either way, Morgan knew better than to say a word. She was not going to be the one to play tattle-tale at this little shindig.

[z-Amber Wren]

She should have followed her instincts. She should have listened to that twinge in her gut that told her not to bother with Antoine. He wasn't right at all, not for a real woman. Maybe in a few years he'd be ready for her. Whoever this was - Amber still hadn't gotten his name and she didn't care - was just about perfect.

"I should have worn a skirt," she mumbled as she let go of her partner and started to fumble at her buttons. "Damn it!" She'd thought the skirts would be too trampy; she just hadn't realized that they'd be just trampy enough.

Continued in She-Wolf

[Owns-The-Night]

He nodded as he digested Morgan's words, never taking his eyes off hers. She seemed to be responding, even flirting up at him. Hell, for his entire post-pubescent life he had wondered how to get females to respond well to him. Every time he had tried advice from others, tried to do it the human way, it had failed. Every time. He had come across as awkward, creepy, or insincere. But this evening had relaxed him, made him more in tune with the Herd.

And with himself.

In a flash of epiphany he understood something profound. He didn't need fancy lines or cool clothes like human males did. He was Wolf as much as Man: how things were said were more important than what was said, and words were by far the smallest part of his 'game'. That cut both ways, too. Insincerity in others was like a toothache for him, and he was bad at it himself. Just because a wolf is given a poodle cut, it doesn't make a wolf into a poodle. Just into a confused and pissed-off wolf. he mused with a widening smile.

"Glad they're not sticking around too long, then." he replied with a slight grin and a sip of his beer. "This is my first real party. I don't really count raising hell with my buddies in Hamburg. That wasn't so much partying as rioting." This last was said with a soft throaty chuckle as he studied Morgan's eyes. That jade-green was compelling, to say the least. So engrossed was he with the girl's scent and the feel of her nearby that he completely blanked the female cop's general question to all in the vicinity.