second glance - chloe

[TRACE GARRETH DARBY]

[/u] by William Blake. Heading inside, he adjusted his jacket across his shoulders and looked around. He felt the thrum of the music throughout his veins and his very being. The lights flashed around his head and, as always, he felt right at home. This was a place where Trace loved to be but he wasn't sure why. He had never understood his attraction to this particular club. Of course, he had scouted out the other clubs, when you were as old as he was, you had to have a break in routine. But, for some reason, he kept coming back here. His boots kept leaving skids on these particular tiles and he wondered why exactly.

Shaking his head, he shrugged off the why and ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes jumping about the room, scouting out any trouble that he could run into. When he satisfied that the coast was clear, his gaze landed on a table in the far corner of the room and he smirked. His usual spot was clear and that was where his ass was going to be planted for the next couple hours. Just because he could. He was the leader of the peacekeepers and, well, because they were a peaceful species, there wasn't much to fix. Unless, of course, another group messed with them. That was what irked Trace the most, when he had to clean up someone else's mess. Growling under his breath, he strode over to the booth, his stride eating up the floor in a matter of seconds and before he knew it, his jean-clad ass was sliding across the leather of the seat, his back against the wall, his gaze aimed at the door and the rest of the floor.

Nodding at a waitress, she winked and headed towards the bar, grabbing him a Jack to start out with. Trace knew he would go stronger, eventually, but, even though alcohol really didn't affect him, he was still partial to 'ol Jack Daniels. Settling back in the chair, his gaze focused on a small female ahead of him, his gaze deturing only when the waitress brought him his drink. With a flicker of interest, he smiled at her and then returned his gaze to the female he had just laid eyes on. Interesting...Tiger Tiger. burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye. Could frame thy fearful symmetry? That poem explained so many things in this life, it was the personification of the balance between good and evil. Mortal and...immortal. Ironic, no?

ooc; yeah...it sucks as a starter. sorry, still getting the feel for trace's personality; dressed as seen above, with black work boots.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/ul]

[CHLOE HELENE NORD]

this is how the fire starts, this is
how we burn. we run because we must.
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Messes. That’s what Chloe was so heavily involved in. One big mess that had created such complications she feared the results, should it ever blow up in her face. But she was so confused. So caught between one belief and a growing realization that the belief may not be right. It was funny how things like that worked. It wasn’t new—the entire population of Britain once believed the universe rotated around the Earth, not the sun. And that had changed. This might be less monumental than science, but it was important. It involved lives—hundreds and hundreds of them. Including hers. Because if she was ever caught, she knew that she’d have to run. Run and never look back. Or she’d be dead.

The beat of the music thumped through her chest pleasantly, her honey blonde hair tumbling down her back in loose waves. She was easily one of the prettier women here, clothed in a black minidress and sky high red heels. She was overdressed, perhaps, but Chloe didn’t ever dress down. Even going around the block meant finding the perfect outfit. Plus, she didn’t mind the attention. She usually used it to collect her dinner—though lately she’d taken more and more to feeding off of humans than killing them. Not that she told anyone, and a simple compelling erased their memory. It was clean, it was quick. And she hated it. She hated all of it. She hated herself, for doing it, she hated the humans, for making her do it. And most of all, she hated whoever did this to her. She’d never known who he was. It had happened to fast. And she’d woken up in this cold, unfeeling skin.

Her lips were pulled into a line of utter indifference, her darkly lined eyes looking passively around, unimpressed. She’d just eaten so she wasn’t here to catch any prey. She was here for other reasons, she supposed. Lonliness, boredom—the ‘perks’ of being a vampire. And because she knew who haunted this place. She’d been assigned to keep an eye on him, take note of his activities. So she’d done just that. At first. Of course she was dealing with another vampire so her tracking hadn’t gone unnoticed. And then it had escalated into something that had literally turned her world upside down. She’d thought humans were just food, stupid, invaluable. She was bitter she couldn’t be one of them, and her inability to turn off her own emotions in an attempt to be more human had gotten her into more trouble than she’d thought. Now she was caught inbetween unfeeling and feeling. And it was all because of one, stupid, stupid vampire.

She turned her head, making eye contact with that stupid, stupid vampire. Her red lips slowly turned up at the corners, a sly smile forming, before she mouthed the word ‘Hi’, from across the room. She wasn’t going to go over to him. She was on her own time and she was sick of taking orders from every one. No, if he wanted to talk to her—if he wanted what she could offer him—he’d have to get it himself. No more doing shit for over demanding, lazy vampires like Stephen. No. No more. If Trace wanted her, she knew he’d come over. And part of him wanted her to, regardless of what could happen if he did.

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TAGGING:

[/color] trace
LOCATION:[/color] up in da club
WORD COUNT:[/color] 568
LOOKING LIKE:[/color] bonjour mon cherie
NOTES:[/color] i love that poem.
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[TRACE GARRETH DARBY]

[/color] he asked, his gaze flickering. He knew he had corrupted her Mafia state of mind and, not just with his witty banter and persuasive intellect.

ooc; meh...i figured it would be easier to go ahead and have them with a fwb type relationship that way it wouldn't be so awkward between them and we'd have avenues to explore.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/ul]

[CHLOE HELENE NORD]

this is how the fire starts, this is
how we burn. we run because we must.
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What Chloe found amusing about all of this was that she was tracking a vampire that the mafia already knew so much about. She’d been up to Aleks’s floor of the apartment to flip through official files on him before she’d gone off to do her glorified stalking. Their details about his life were impressive in number—she wondered if someone or multiple someones in the mafia had known him personally, as many of the accounts she found were first person. However she didn’t spend too much time worrying about it, as she was here to figure out what he was doing now. Well, at least that was her excuse. She wasn’t exactly sure when she’d made the decision to find out more about the peacekeepers. More than she was suppose to. It wasn’t like she spent enormous amounts of time with Trace—well, time spent talking and not doing other, less moral, things. And she might have even considered it—after all, her feelings about humans and human life was far more mixed than the rest of the mafia—but the risk was monumental.

Death. That would be the only punishment fit for a betrayal of the mafia. There was no other option. Not that the idea of death bothered her too much. She’d spent years and years wanting it, searching for it, but fearing it too much to actually achieve it. She’d wanted to just die for so long after she was turned, but now she wasn’t so sure. That complicated things. And it wasn’t like she was safe either. She knew Luce knew about what was going on, but Luce seemed to have some reason for not telling on her . . . yet. She wasn’t sure what, and Chloe wasn’t about to pry. Regardless, she was secretly quite grateful, and though she didn’t feel she owed Luce anything for not squealing on her, she tried not to ever inconvenience her. She fucking hated blackmail. And she sort of hated Luce for knowing. It made her feel vulnerable. Something Chloe hated most.

As Trace began to make his way across the club and over to her, her closed-mouth smile widened a bit. Of course he would, she was gorgeous, and she knew it. At least she could still do something right. Even if it was something as superficial as attract men. She hadn’t exactly intended for things to end up this way—they’d just sort of happened. What had started out as her target had become something strange—like a stranger with benefits? If that even counted. He and Chloe really hardly knew each other, to be honest. And Chloe liked it that way.

And suddenly he was there, his teeth on her neck, she made a soft moan, barely audible, turning to him with a smirk as if to say ‘you really can’t behave yourself, can you?’ What actually came out of her mouth was far less charged. “You know I’m never really alone, Trace.” She was, of course, referring to the mafia. She might be alone, but they were never too far away. Ever. Conducting business completely in secret was not easy, given this fact. “I could say the same for you, monsieur. Don’t you have more important business to attend to than her?” She nodded towards the waitress who had been taking care of him moments ago.“Unless she’s dinner.” She grinned, joking—but only half. She knew he was sensitive about human life and didn’t mind teasing him a little, in good humor.

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TAGGING:

[/color] trace
LOCATION:[/color] up in da club
WORD COUNT:[/color] 589
LOOKING LIKE:[/color] bonjour mon cherie
NOTES:[/color] totally fine :] makes things easier for me hehehe
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[TRACE GARRETH DARBY]

[/color] he told her. "I'm here to get away from business matters for a while but it seems I have a little shadow." he said confidently, his knuckles brushing against her side gently. To an outsider, or say a human, it looked like any other normal human male trying to pick up a woman. Which, honestly, the same could be said for the vampire male in the current situation. And yet, vampires were illegal, weren't they? The more the humans didn't know, the better.

ooc; sounds good.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/ul]

[CHLOE HELENE NORD]

this is how the fire starts, this is
how we burn. we run because we must.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As Trace’s hands brushed her sides, her vision was clouded by images, them twisted in sheets, her little black dress on the floor, heat, flashes of skin in the dark, then laughter and laying there talking. And then it subsided, the club swimming into view again. To anyone looking at her, it would have seemed like a simple pause, maybe at a length of two seconds, but in Chloe’s mind it was often much longer. And it was never certain, as she knew all too well, the future could be rewritten. When she’d obtained her power she’d gradually lost her belief in fate. She knew all too well that people’s decisions shaped the future. How could that be fate? It was disappointing, for her, as she’d believed all too strongly in fate. Then again, she never thought she’d end up like this either. Dead. In her dream world she’d lived a long life with her fiancée, and perhaps even children. Her hand instinctively went up to touch her necklace, but it wasn’t there. She didn’t wear it on evenings out like this. Her old engagement ring on a dainty gold chain was hardly something to wear out when meeting someone like Trace.

She brushed the thought from her mind, it mentally hardening after the moment of softness. Her ability to see the future was very much a blessing and a curse. Tonight however, it was of little importance. Because she and Trace were a bit inevitable. She had never intended for it to be this way. In fact she’d had more than one vision of the mafia killing him. And not a quick kill, either. Perhaps that was why she’d never relay all her information about him, or why she’d never requested a relief tracker when she was too busy. She valued life too much. She, of course, had never intended to actually get to know him, even if she was protecting him. But again, it had been inevitable.

Her smirk turned into a grin as he commented on having a little shadow. She was very much his shadow. It was her job to be. Not that she minded. As she turned her head more towards him a glossy curtain of hair fell over her opposite shoulder. They did look very much like normal humans, interacting in a very normal, human setting. Aside from his fangs on her neck, the two were interchangeable. But in reality, they weren’t. And it wasn’t just because they were vampires—it was because they were like a very unromantic, dark, Romeo and Juliet. Flitting across enemy lines and ignoring any and all rules that defined who they were suppose to be. Perhaps that was why Chloe enjoyed this as much as she did. Because with Trace she wasn’t defined by the mafia. By being a vampire, even. She was free. And freedom didn’t come easy in a world where one was hunted constantly.

She rose her lemon drop to her mouth and finished the last bit. The only real buzzkill (hah) to being a vampire was that alcohol really didn’t work that well. Nor did it taste that great either. In fact, she was only drinking it for the purpose of blending. After she’d finished it (to leave it unfinished would be a waste, after all), she turned to him, her sexy little grin taking a mischievous turn. "Dance with me." She stood. Glancing over his shoulder she could see other men giving Trace dirty looks. Hah. Taking his hand she tugged him to the floor, not really waiting for a reply. If being with Trace meant being free, she was going to take it for all it was worth. If only just for one night.

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TAGGING:

[/color] trace
LOCATION:[/color] up in da club
WORD COUNT:[/color] 622
LOOKING LIKE:[/color] bonjour mon cherie
NOTES:[/color] weeeeee sorry for delay.
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