West

The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported, however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

What You'll Find Here

Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn

b i t e the hand that feeds you


Posted on January 11, 2019 by COBAIN
West



The pale vampire with hair as dark black as obsidian and eyes of a dark crimson, so similar to the hue of the metallic liquid he craves so much narrows his gaze at the woman. He was not one for Risque's games, the pale vampire has had more than his fair share over the years. His own red eyes meet hers of blue, with a fearless quality to them. He stopped being afraid of his mistress many years ago. Red eyes blink once or twice before he looks at her. "You assault all of me," he says dryly towards her. Her seductive voice tarnishes his ears, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Sure, perhaps years ago he may have considered the sensual voice to be enticing, but he has spent far too long in her company to harbor any feelings towards his mistress aside from his never ending hatred towards her. ""And what about you? Trying to entice some weak human into your web? Not much of a challenge," he states in a way that is more like he is telling her of the weather rather than expressing his annoyance.

While her eyes are such a blue that is meant to draw you in, Cobain's are meant to send you away. The deep red that is the same color as the blood he consumes. They are distant eyes, dead, void of any sort of normal feelings that mortals harbor. They are hungry eyes, eyes desperate to consume, to kill. Cobain's victims, victims only because Risque had made them so, the last thing they saw were those soul less, dead, ruby red eyes, before they were sent to hell where no doubt Cobain would one day join them so they could spend eternity in agony and misery.

She speaks more, laughs, and Cobain's dead heart wriggles in his chest with a desire to end her, but he knows he cannot, never will be able to, the maker's hold was strong over the dark haired vampire. ""You do have a thing for the innocent," he says, briefly remembering his own physical age. He had been so young when he had been changed, a boy that had desperately wanted to be a man, but was still just a child. ""The child panther," he says, remembering Tetradore, when he had been imprisoned by the vampire, entirely unaware that the child panther was no longer a child, and yet he was still under control by his mistress.

'Good.' That is all he gets for completing his tasks, though he didn't know quite what he was expecting from her, and so he hardly cares of her response. Cobain was not some student sitting in the front row, attempting to answer all the teacher's questions and earn the favored student spot. He hardly cares for Risque's praise for him, he did not desire to be her favorite pet, he would rather not be her pet at all if he had a choice. But, regardless, his existence was empty whether on his own or under Risque's manicured thumb. ""You deserve the world," he says, knowing the answers she wants to hear, having no choice but to say what she wants.

Child. She demeans him. ""And who has caused me to stay this way?" He says, she had changed him to what he is when he was no more than a boy. An eternal child, forever trapped within his youth. She did this to him, and Cobain would make certain he would drag her down to hell with him. She snuffed his life at such a young age, without allowing him to mature entirely, so despite Cobain's attitude and lack of any real emotions aside from anger and hate, he is still a little boy, perhaps one of the reasons the maker's influence was so strong on him. He was too young to be without his mother, but Risqué made a poor substitute.

Kill me, he wants to say it to her. No existence on this earth would be better than this one, no more than a slave to the vampire woman. Ruby red eyes lock onto her own. ""Do it," he practically growls towards her like the tiger at her side. She knows he does not fear death, he would welcome it so. ""Create another one, and another, and another," he says, an endless cycle of minions for the dark haired mistress.

And then a command hits his ears. Grovel. He has no choice but to obey, Cobain was so tired of fighting her. He moves towards her, ruby red eyes upon her face as his own pale hands reach for one of her own. He places it between his and raises it to his lips, though he plants no kiss upon them. ""Forgive me," he says. ""Forgive me so that I may assist you on whatever you need, whatever you want," he pauses. ""I will make everything yours."
COBAIN DALCA
image by Maaike Nienhuis

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