you got the medicine, i got the pain » vin

[style=float: left; font-family: georgia; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -2px; color: #1D1D1D; margin-top: 210px; margin-right: 235px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #090909; width: 500px;]LAEVINUS CAESAR FORSYTH

counting bodies like sheep,

» Vulnerability holds such an unethically vibrant ability to captivate, as though exposure’s very existence is in dire need of immediate attention, drawing the eyes of bystanders and predators alike. This sense of weakness, the very inkling of a present disadvantage, beckoned Laevinus in ways seemingly near unfathomable, as it often did. In the early stages of his long-lived life, the weathered individual hardly recognised such an easily disguised and discreet emotion—he was unable to grasp at details such as the creasing of one’s forehead, or the subtle pursing of another’s lips. Laevinus, as a child, had been a young and reckless individual, paying little care to the minor particulars within life—that was quick to change, however, as both years and reality stacked against him.

Now, weakness attracted him like blood does that of a famished shark.

» The woman was partially familiar and, though Laevinus was aware he had never spoken to her nor could he place an occupation or name upon her, it was this very trait that tugged his eyes mercilessly to her curvaceous little form. She did not stick out at sorely as some, but there was something, a pinpoint of difference, that caught the man’s eager and pulsing attention—she was out of place, surely, but that was hardly the only reasoning behind her vague discomfort. Pallid, grey eyes narrowing, the man observed her from the gallery with something remotely close to skepticism, his lack of respectable morals clear, should the bold, though satisfied, surveying of her body be noted by any other then himself. He scavenged what exposed skin he could, partly in search of a species tattoo and partly due to his ignited hormones, and paused, hesitating as his gaze flicked upon her right wrist. The image was far too small, too inevitably muddled, for him to comprehend, though there was one aspect of it that he became instantly aware of—if his eyes were not betraying him, then the little flash of crimson upon her wrist spoke towards her having a far more fragile, feral nature.

What a glorious, inviting discovery.

The man’s lips curled deliciously, his previously grim expression departing to leave a far more devious, amorous one in its path.

She longed for blood.

» Laevinus turned, slowly, eyes flicking towards one of the nearby, stationed attendees, brows perking in obvious impatience. He didn’t offer the young man a word, nor did he intend to—the expression instead, as expected, was enough of an indicator to draw the waiter near, eyes nervous and downcast. Pathetic, perhaps, though Laevinus could hardly be bothered with degrading another, at this time—he had mere minutes to make his ascent towards the woman, or his chance would be snatched with the arrival of a man looking for the same entertainment of which he was. “I am in immediate need of a unique request; however, I am quite sure you will prove efficient enough.” Laevinus’ voice, bitter and curt as per his usual when conversing with lesser individuals, was met with a nod from the young man, expression suddenly eager. “Yes, Monarch? Do go on.” He retorted, fingers tapping lightly against the side of his leg. “Fetch me a glass of red wine and blood. There is a hunger of which I wish to sate.”

Another disgustingly eager, exuberant nod later, and the boy had dispersed, slipping away into the kitchen.

Ah, how effortlessly the younger generation irritated him.

» When the young man did, eventually, return, Laevinnus offered him no form of thanks, before brushing past him, glass elegantly in hand, and proceeding gracefully down the steps of which led to the ballroom. The man had not yet entered the floor, though that was soon to come, and paid little mind towards the attentions of which he grabbed with his subtle entrance, despite those of which came from beautiful women—which, as expected, he replayed with a coquettish smirk, before proceeding on towards his target. There were many women of which he would relish in meeting, certainly, however Laevinnus was a very calculated and concise individual—when he made up his mind, there was little one could do to sway him.

After all, the chase was half the fun—why go for an immediate catch?

» The man sauntered up to the unfamiliar, beautifully-clad woman without the slightest hint of hesitation or waver, his confidence clearly asserted with the very way he conducted himself as he approached from behind her, sliding easily next to her with the leisure of a feline having just slept. Laevinus’ eyes, smug and churning with a feint amusement, trained absentmindedly on the bartender ahead of the two as he placed the wine-glass upon the surface of the bar, close enough to grasp at her attention, yet far enough to not serve as imposing. His smirk was charming, though devilishly enticing as he chanced a sideways glance upon the woman, turning his body towards her in order to initiate some form of contact—that, surely, would be enough. And then, without further adieu, Laevinus decided it was very much appropriate to speak. He was hardly shy, nor was he lowly enough to put an extreme effort in catching a female’s attention— if she wasn’t yet impressed, his patience would, surely, fail him within the time to come.

Such was life, unfortunately. Laevinus was looking for one thing tonight, and one thing only—

a good round of satisfactory entertainment.

“This is far more desirable than any sort of insipid liquor that can be found here, I assure you.” He murmured, his masculine, baritone lyrics low, though rapidly approaching something frighteningly similar to winsome. Laevinus edged the class closer to the woman after a momentary pause, eyes brooding, coaxing.

All she needed to do, was take it.

The rest would be history.

to the rhythm of war drums.