Flesh and Bones

ma okt 09, 2017 1:49 am

"these violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder."

As soon as he felt the undeniable sensation of a warm liquid running down his face, he tried to stumble right out of the bar. It took him a little longer than expected; having to dodge several blows to the head and having a generous amount of people roughly bump into him. But at last, he’d made it out, the sun burning brightly in his eyes. He squeezed them shut for a bit and moved his right hand towards his face, trying to feel around as to infer what exactly was going on up there. It had all happened so quickly. He was drinking with a few crew members in a relatively busy bar. The mood had been exquisite and the ale even better. All of a sudden, a man stood up, started yelling about money or anything of the sort, and the first punch was thrown. It was only a matter of seconds before the entire bar tuned in to the pleasing sound of fists being forcefully swung at people’s skulls. Now, Asher was no newcomer to bar fights. On the contrary, as Lord of Isla de Juegas, he felt like he had experienced more than his fair share of bar brawls. And this one had been no different. It was all fun and games until someone got a proper swing at him and hit him right above his left eyebrow. The adrenaline rush took care of most of the pain, but he could feel the skin tear, causing blood to rapidly flow down his left cheek. He figured this was the right time to tap out.

Outside, he attempted wiping the liquid trail of blood off, to no avail. The result was a bloody smear that ranged from the corner of his mouth towards his ear. With a sigh, he leaned against the tavern wall, slightly pissed off at the fact that he’d left his drink inside. Meanwhile, the blood continued to trickle down and he was pretty sure his browbone was starting to bruise ever so slightly. He ripped a piece from his shirtsleeve, fumbling it up in a ball and pressing it on the wound, holding it in place with a slightly annoyed expression on his face. In a few seconds, the piece of fabric was soaked. Typical.

OOC; Lestat first.

do okt 12, 2017 11:03 pm

L E S T A T ▲

Lestat could be a trouble maker. He was the kind of vampire who liked to play with their prey. Challenging the guy he wanted, sometimes into a fight and sometimes to his room in an inn or hostel. He also liked to flirt with some women, take them to his room and then feast on them. Lestat would leave them behind on the bed, well tucked in as if they were sleeping. But this time he decided to create a whole chaos in a pub. The vampire had entered the pub, drawing all the attention toward him, pretending he was drunk, while he was only a bit tipsy. See, being a lonely vampire, without companion and a goal, would make you a trouble maker. Older vampire, more ancient then him, would call him a brat. Lestat had assaulted a woman, only to make her boyfriend, or whatever he was, furious. It worked, of course. And after some altercation the man attacked him. Just as Lestat had wanted it to be. It wasn't a long fight and Lestat killed him brutally, though, he didn't drink his blood, there for he looked way to filthy, to his taste. The people in the bar were way to shocked to react immediately, so Lestat took the moment and left the bar. When he'd left he could hear the screaming the rage. Lestat laughed and kept walking. He still laughed at the idea and wondered whether they'd figured it out. It all'd gone so fast. He chuckled, but then the scent of blood entered his nostrils. Though he killed a man, he hadn't fed yet.

Before Lestat knew, he'd followed the scent. When he saw the filthy wounded man, leaning against the tavern wall he narrowed his eyes. He took a hold on himself and just stood there, surveying the man, probably in an eerie way. His grey eyes, which looked more violet because of the sunlight, focusing on the man, like a tiger eyeing a deer. He saw the blood on his face and though the man looked filthy and old, his blood smelled good. Lestat came to the realization that he was staring, so decided to get a bit closer. "Got in a fight?" He asked with a raspy voice, narrowing his eyes a bit.

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za okt 14, 2017 11:32 pm

"these violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder."

An irritated sigh stemmed from his throat. He probably needed to get the wound stitched up and disinfected and, to a fault of his own, there weren’t that many capable doctors on the island. Which was totally ridiculous, since people got hurt over here multiple times a day. And apparently, he was one of those people who just couldn’t stay out of trouble. Not that he minded. Things like this made you feel just a little bit more alive than usual. He let his head tilt backwards, resting it on the wall of the tavern he had just stumbled out of. The place was starting to quiet down a little bit. The yelling devolved into a confused mumbling and most people seemed to retreat to their original seats and continue their drunken conversations. Asher wasn’t really planning on going back in, at least, not until he found someone or somewhere to fix the wound on his face that was currently oozing blood. He wiped at it again, smearing even more blood over his face and threw away the useless piece of fabric he’d attempted to clean it with. Fortunately, his face wasn’t yet busted up enough for him to not be able to see the guy that was looking at him from a distance. Asher raised a questioning eyebrow at the stranger. Something was a bit… off about him, although he couldn’t exactly put his finger on the reason why. The man asked if he’d been in a fight, and Asher put up a frown on his face. “You think?” he replied, sarcastically. “No, honestly, I was just bashin’ my head against the wall for fun.” He’d never had the longest temper and wasn’t exactly appreciative of complete strangers eyeballing him in the street. And it showed.

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