How the West was won or Good Idea, Bad Idea...

[Blood]

Nothing really made sense after a while. Faces bled together. Scents, sounds, the wonders and the wiles of the world faded away. I felt stoned. I twitched every time my hair brushed my neck. I was sweating, and my fingers tingled every time I breathed in.

Someone was coming. And I hadn't fed yet either.

[Sanada Tomo]

The Nigenkai was called by a name that was now common in Hell, implemented by those many demons who had been enraptured by the Orient of Earth.

Sniffing the night air, Tomoyo passed under a cherry blossom tree. Her white hair contrasted with the pink petals, the rich color made pale against her colorless strands. Remembering how much Chiyo had liked these flowers when they were in Heaven, her hair turned to black, keeping its length and now providing a color that supplemented the pink, ironically representing the beauty that had once existed in the now dead Seraph.

She sighed, walking beyond the location of the scenery and into the slums, the portions of various eastern countries that she visited often. it was home of the Clan of Sadame, the vampires that were most eager to serve him or lend him aid.

[Blood]

It didn't take long to find a meal. Some hapless mugger had been hunting around my usual habits almost daily for the past few weeks. I had wanted to wait before seeking him out. Oft, the muggers nearby tended to be unskilled family men with no chance of life outside of unemployment. This guy was reckless. He'd slit his victims' throats long before he had even thought about their wallets. And all of this murder was just to sate his hatred of the high class, which I could sympathize with and somewhat admire. Interestingly enough, he fashioned himself the name Caesar.

I watched Caesar as he pulled some rich suit into the alley. I could see the diamonds from the victim's watch glare at me, refracting a million colours, as they caught the light reflecting from a luxury car that flew by, purring like a jungle cat. The victim would be killed a meter from the sidewalk of a crowded street and no one would notice until the smell of his corpse became too strong to ignore. He would die in Armani though, adorned in platinum cords and wrapped in jewel-encrusted bands. He could've been one of the mortals I would have taken to bed this night. But money really can't buy everything, not even mercy.

Caesar's blade whistled right before it struck the mans throat. Had the victim the chance, he probably would've shouted as he collapsed, but Caesar's hand was already muffling the sobs of pain, and shock. The mugger leaned in, breathing erratically, drinking in the sight of fear and desperation in the victim's eyes. Had he a free hand, he probably would've been stroking himself through his trousers, so pleased he was by the sight. He was as hard as brick. With a final desperate, muffled, gurgling shout, the victim gave in. His life's blood dying his coal Armani suit black, and his cream silk shirt a dull wine red. Tears streaked down his cheeks, and danced across Caesar's fingertips and then he was dead.

Caesar, toting a Cheshire grin, licked his blade clean, "getting a taste of the high life," then set to removing the jewelry and wallet of the poor ashen corpse. I, myself, hadn't been so turned on in a long while.

Before Caesar could take another breath, I had him crushed against the side of the building that lined the west side of the alley, our feet treading harshly on the fresh corpse. He was surprised, terrified even, and it was then that I ripped his throat open. He gave a hoarse shot, and my hand was already working into his shorts. I took three quick pulls of blood before wrapping my hand around his cock and stroking him as he bucked and struggled against me. It didn't take long before he gave up. His blood was singing the moment my fangs pierced his neck, and soon his hoarse pleas for me to stop became desperate moans. I stroked him swiftly, with sure strokes until I could feel his cock swell with impending orgasm. When he peaked, I kissed his neck, more passion and compassion in my touch than he probably ever knew existed. His cum slicked my hand, and coated my fingers. And just as swiftly, I drank him dry. He looked to me in wonder then slumped down atop his victim another corpse.

Which brings us to our first lesson, though taste and feel are important, the key element to both food and sex is presentation. You could serve royalty a McDonald's value meal, and they wouldn't be the wiser were you to serve it on fine china, with a parsley salad and carrot blossoms.

As with sex, women want sex just as much and as often as men. But they know that dick is a commodity that is not in shortage. Why have the average dick when you can get it gift wrapped in Dolce & Gabbana, with a law degree? It doesn't guarantee that the dick will be exceptionally good, but it does make it a nicer dick to look at. A health care dick, a dick with benefits and a pension plan could make the ugliest, pre-me dick enticing.

It's all in the presentation.

[Rosey]

Using the alleyway as a shortcut, Rosey could have sworn she heard something up ahead but she ignored it. The sound was far too faint for her to take notice anyway. As she continued walking she saw a woman but she couldn't tell that she was standing over two dead bodies because of a dumpster in the way. She didn't think anything of it. She never understood why the mortals avoided the alleys, they were good for shortcuts. She didn't know that they were also good for killing someone without anyone watching.

Rosey was going to ignore the woman as she passed her by but she stopped when she realized that there was dead guys by her feet. She could tell that she also had some kind substance on her hands.

I thought mortal blood was red...

Rosey eyed the woman for a second to try to sense a killing intent from her. Instead she got a sickening feeling from the woman and it made her a little uneasy for some strange reason. She decided that maybe she should just keep walking, and fast. Whatever she was doing wasn't her business anyway.

[Blood]

Interruptions. Interruptions come in many varieties. There are the kind that can save you time and embarrassment. There are the kind that take time and cause embarrassment. Some are unwanted, and some are welcome. Of all the different kinds of interruptions there are, I didn't know how to classify this one. I was just thinking about licking the cum off of my hand to see which type of his life essence was sweeter when someone cuts through my alley, as if it's not even mine. Not that it is mine, mind you, but I was busy and having a moment with my victim's remnants but here she comes charging through my moment, like a rabid rhinoceros. She even tried to read me, the little wretch!

Regardless, I lick the bittersweet, strong smelling semen from my sticky fingers and decide that just as I was interrupted, I would interrupt her as well. That is, as soon as I figure out what to do with my victim. One of the annoying things about being an immortal vampyre is that if you leave corpses lying around, you tend to get groupies. Now, while having a willing supply of necks, breasts, butts, vaginas and penises is grand, the people they are attached to tend to be more obsessed about being turned than being bitten. After a while, you just get tired of people wanting to be with you for being a vampyre and not for who you are.

But I digress, I set fire to the two corpses, charring them to the point that bone is burned to ash. Now, to find that girl. Interruptions, interruptions!

[Rosey]

Rosey slowed her pace when she felt that she was at a safe distance. She stopped at the mouth of the alley and she could smell faint burning smell but it quickly went away with the fresh gust of wind. It looks like tonight was going to be rather strange for her, but then again her nights in the Mortal Realm were never sane to begin with.

She suddenly got this urge to move from this prickling sensation in the back of her neck. She walked down the street that seemed to have emptied all of a sudden with the exception of a few mortals here and there walking to/from their vehicles.

[Yurik Deminov]

I stand here. Watching. Waiting. Debating on which meal to choose from. The meal you ask, the pathetic meat bags known as homo spines. After the source of all the nourishes their paltry world sets, when their greatness strength against my kind has retired until the morn, the came out. Exposing their weakness, infecting and affecting all that they touch, their ceaseless need to control everything but themselves sickens even I. But enough commentary, I came to dine, not whine.

There she stands. Amongst all the rabble of this din of filth known as a city, she stands out, alone, enticing me. She is beautiful, well as beautiful as I am in need of nourishment, her neck exposed, it would be the equivalent of one of these curs eying the crudely seared flesh of an livestock animal after many hours of depravity. Her features, any man would find appealing, long silken hair, her breasts supple in the dress of her choice this evening, her buttocks and thighs firm and well shaped. But alas, these are garnish to what I seek, the flesh that connects her head to her body. Standing in this dank and cluttered alley, I mask my presence well. Enveloping myself in the darkness, my reflection less visage isn't present in the reflective glass windows of the late night establishment she chooses to frequent, standing among the other cattle of the evening.

She seems to be accompanied by a large man, but he is of no consequence to me, it is her I lick my canines for. I can feel the smile spread on my face as I picture a small trickle of he blood flow down the side of my face. The stain to my white ruffled shirt should be worth it I tell myself, as I move closer to her. Stepping out of the alley, I blend in well among the imitators, the idiots, and who parade around disguised as predators, when underneath the facade they are all prey. All it takes is moment, she turns to feel the cool night breeze on her neck, and then her eyes meet mine.

A simple trick really, she has made eye contact with my, allowing for the penetration of her mind, and with my teeth, soon to be her body. Her legs move her closer, as if acting on their own she walks away from her escort, closer and closer into the darkness of the street. Her eyes are glazed, but no matter, I regress back into the alley as she follows. Now the oaf she has accompanied this evening has caught wind to her departure, as he begins to call after her, unaware that she cannot hear him. She crosses the street, away from the line of club goers, as several cars are visible in the distance.

Upon further viewing, this man could pose a problem, note my emphasis on could. His feet are now glued to the road, he is unaware of my presence or the magic at work, as I have began to fuse his shoes and the street together. His life is ended as the car that was heading in that direction smash into his large frame, the commotion itself serving as an appropriate piece of dinner music as my order has just arrived.

She has heard nothing behind her, all she can see is my eyes, drawing her closer, I can hear her heartbeat rise. Faster and faster it goes, she wants so badly to stop, I can see the anguish on her face, but alas, she is not in control. As she becomes in an arms reach, my shroud surrounds her, she cannot struggle and I appear from the darkness to claim my meal. Smiling and bearing my teeth I remove her long hair, a slight annoyance, and plunge my ivory daggers into the sweet mirth of her flesh. I want to say I had an excellent meal, I want to enjoyed her sweet liquids as it trickles down my throat.

But, I cannot, for I have found the source of her glazed eyes. Toxins that the humans ingest known as stimulants, this on a mild one, but bitter to the taste none the less. Dissatisfied with the deception, I break her neck. It snaps like a twig as she fall the the filthy ground, and I watch her twitch before her movements finally cease. Oh well, I tell myself, snapping my fingers as her flesh unmakes itself. Soon she is a mass of vile blackness, and I mentally shape the mass into bats, a favorite animal of mine. As I watch the creatures fly off into the night I do the same, bored of this place, and still ever so longing for a meal.

[Rosey]

Rosey got to a busy part of the street and somehow felt safe being there with all the mortals, even though she found them to be annoying. She stopped and leaned up against a building closing her eyes as she felt a breeze go by, feeling at ease.

All of a sudden, there were cars honking and squeals of tires trying to stop their movement, causing to Rosey look up as she saw a car slamming into some mortal. It caused her to jump from her leaning position; she have never imagine a life being taken away such a way. The mortals seemed to be surprised as they crowded around the scene as if they never seen a dead person before.

You would think that having such a short life they'll be use to seeing death, although, probably not in the way that it happened.

Another breeze came by making her hair flow about her, but it seemed to have carried the anxiety of the onlookers of the scene. It also carried something else that just didn't seem right in the air, something ominous.