Own a business Marie said; it'll be fun she said. What Marie had neglected to tell Ceara was the piles of paperwork she'd be buried under half the time. Really it seems Marie had suggested she find a business so that Ceara would keep out of trouble. It had seemed to help, along with the years that she had now been a vampire, Ceara's thirst for a hunt had diminished by focusing on other things. Diminished but not eradicated. While blood was necessary for their survival, hunting was not, which was what Marie had taught her and how her old vampire mentor had lived for so long. If there were a way to bring the blood to you in a willing manner then you could run under the radar from hunters.

That's exactly what Ceara had done tonight, brought her meal to her, some young handsome of a thing whose name she didn't even know. Her grip finally released the male whom slumped down on a nearby leather armchair in a daze. Ceara's eyes flitted open, licking her lips as one slim finger came up to brush away a stray droplet of blood from her chin. Her un-amused gaze settled on the human, "Take him out back." A burly lackey slipped from the shadows to haul the slumped meal to his feet and shuffle him to the delivery entrance in the alleyway. He wouldn't be disposed of, no; a taxi would take him to whatever hole he crawled out of and would wake in the morning with no recollection of what had happened. He wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. Ceara watched good old Yulan take care of her feeding as he always did. It had definitely satisfied her need for blood but there was a different need still bothering her; the need to hunt, stalking the shadows, the smell of fear radiating from your prey. There was just something about the thrilling satisfaction of stalking and cornering a prey before taking it down that you couldn't replace. It had been so long that sometimes she would find herself daydreaming about it, which was dangerous since it was one step away from waking up to bodies at her feet and blood everywhere.

Ceara twisted absently at the rings on her fingers as she looked out the one-way mirror from her office that looked out into the Voodoo bar. It was still early in the night, having been open only two hours but there was a good mill of patrons already. Her bar operated as many did, closed during the day, letting the café down the road have that traffic, and open from dusk to dawn. The people that came through were any from tourists, business meetings, someone just getting off work, or a small party. It wasn't a rowdy bar as most tourists seemed surprised at the more hypnotic feel rather than blasting music and smell of cigarettes in the air. The bar area, lounge booth areas, and a couple pool tables did the job just fine. However, tonight someone had decided to throw a wrench into the atmosphere. A visitor at one of the booths was starting to raise his voice at a server and Ceara wasted no time, emerging from her office to make a leisure beeline to address the situation.

When Ceara drew near she dismissed the server with a slight twitch of her hand in their direction, barely casting them an admonishing glance before focusing on the disgruntled man. "I've been waiting forever for that waiter to bring my drinks, it's ridiculous." In a normal situation an owner would have probably bent over backwards with niceties, apologized and perhaps even comped drinks but that wasn't Ceara and she didn't tolerate any such outburst in her bar. She slid onto the booth across from him, reaching across the void with only a simper tug of a smile at the corner of her lips as she placed her hand over his. This gesture caused confusion in the man and he made the mistake of looking Ceara in the eyes, holding her gaze as she spoke with her tone smooth and dark, not at all different than what you would expect from old friends but holding an allure that held her glamour. "You're going to get up now, pay for your drinks, and leave this bar. You're going to go straight home, go to bed, and forget all the trouble you had about your server. In fact, you'll remember the most pleasant experience." Slowly Ceara withdrew her hand from his, taking the drink he was holding at the same time, and yet he remained frozen, staring back at her for a moment before he finally moved. The man got up from the booth and dug around in his pocket to pull out his wallet and toss his payment on the table before leaving without a word. Ceara took a sip of the untouched drink, watching her bar continue on without a missed beat. She really needed to find another server...and perhaps another bartender as she had heard rumors he had grown racist against supernatural, denying serving some of her regulars. Ceara's hardened gaze watched the older man behind the bar...he needed to be culled.

Ceara Hade

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality