Roleplay

[center][size=2]@Elcectic (No need to ping, I'm subscribed! ^^) [rule] [columns][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/f9ea/f/2018/053/a/8/cydric_by_bearskulls-dc40rrq.png[/img] [nextcol][color=transparent].... [nextcol][color=#000000]Ivor was a particular kind of person. He usually was quiet and very well mannered. He seemed to like to read and other, dreadfully, boring things that let any lady who was trying to pick him up down. Daft, as they called him. Uneventful. Predictable. But it was something he had grown used to over the years and, he grumbled a bit at the lack of respect the ladies showed to someone who went out at night to fight creatures that wouldn't stop for a second to drink blood from the pristine and unscathed necks of theirs. Yes, Vampires. The male was a gentlemen by day, but by night he took on a more brutal form of holding himself. His hand was tight around the hilt of the flintlock as he strolled through the streets at night. His golden gaze focused on one thing, and one thing only; finding the bloodsucking demons and putting an end to them. His lips were pressed together tightly as he moved, a tall mass of muscule and vengeance. He pressed a cigar to his lips and lighted it up with a match, stopping for a moment to do just that. Once he got it lit, he continued his parole around the block, his golden eyes peeled for any signs of struggling or shady activity from some unlucky vampire.

((im subbed too now ^^ I lost my stylus before creating him so i don't have any art > >))

If anyone look closely, they can see Azael's entire body was shaking ever so slightly. He hadn't fed in at least a week and that was the longest he'd been able to hold it off. His black coats that drops till his knee blended him into the night perfectly, the short black hair messy as always. The moon glinted illuminated the only part of his skin that was exposed which was his face and neck. His entire attire was monochrome shaded, with black leather boots touching the ground as he walked.

Az didn't know where he was walking, or what he was going to do about the hunger. There were no one on the streets that he take as "weak". He can almost feel himself slowly winding apart from the desire for that precious red liquid. The normally sarcastic and confident man of 25 or so was fighting a fight that he knows that he cannot win.

His glove wearing hands were shaking underneath the guise of his pockets. The leather was once upon a time dark brown, but it was now a maroonish color from the blood stains. He was staring at the ground, smelling the scent of life before he saw the man with a cigar walking the other direction. His normally sharp eye sight barely even scanned the other for threats. His eyes nearly glowed red as they do, but he managed to stop it from it's behavior, hurrying his steps. Maybe he can find some back alley to a tavern- the drunk always make easier anyways.

OOC: That's alright! (Also sorry for taking a bit?? I thought I was subscribed but apparently it took me off. >> Subscribed now. Ahaha)

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Footsteps. Ivor blinked gently as he listened to brief footsteps and then glanced back towards them. He paused in his steps, his gaze following the shifty figure before a loud grunt came from him. The actions caused enough suspicion in him to decide to follow for a bit...to see where the other male went. As he walked, his fingers pressed against the handle of the flintlock tucked away.

It wasn't until he followed a good distance away did Ivor start to move quicker and matched pace with the other male now. "You look jumpy." he commented as his golden gaze glanced over to him. He looked a bit older than usual vampires...so he noted that it might be a possibility the man was simply just looking for something to drink...given the direction they were going in.

Ivor didn't offer anything else, just stared at him...judgingly.

((xD no worries ^^'))


He didn't notice his follower until the other decided to speak, which almost made him jump and snarl. Shoving the urges down however, the only thing that did come out of his throat was, "The night hides her underlings quite well." His amber eyes that were almost, orange, stared at the other's, and Az wondered secretly just who the other is.

Stopping his footsteps a little, he stared back doubtfully, as if he didn't know and understand why the other's attention had been attracted to him. Meanwhile on the inside, he's screaming his head off, having a full blown panic attack as to what to do now, how the tavern's literally within the edge of his vision, and how delicious that neck looks.

But he didn't show that, not unless someone can see through his pockets and see how his hands were shuddering.

"Oh?" He hummed, "Who is the underling and who is the night helping to hide? You or me?" his golden gaze narrowed a little, focusing on his irises before focusing back onto walking. He grunted a bit as they had came to a somewhat stop. Ivor turned, his chin lifting a bit as he got another look of the other male.

"Off to the tavern for a drink? Thought I'd give you company while you walk. Safety in numbers and all that....the murders in alleyways have gotten increasingly bad as of late." he glanced towards him, then offered a rare smile and chuckle. "Some have even gone to such lengths as blaming the strange deaths the doing of vampires or werewolves."

Ivor kept his gaze on him, looking for any tells. His fingers aching to grab out the flintlock in his jacket...but he would wait.

"Perhaps you, perhaps me, perhaps us both. What would I know of her motives?" He murmured, ignoring the other's intense stare. It was both unnerving and too tentative. Az swore it was as if the other was trying to find his soul and rip out all of it's secrets. Secrets, he had no intention of letting the rest of the world know.

"Hmm, maybe so. In the end it is up to fate as to when we leave pass away . . ." He managed to give a strained smile. "They do often happen to have odd marks across their bodies don't they." Why one would bring up a topic such as that to a stranger only made him more bothered, even to his senses that were muddled from the hunger. "Do you believe in such tales?"

As it was clear he couldn't leave without appearing suspicious, he didn't leave his path from going to the tavern and continued moving in that direction while paying close attention to his . . . ah, follower.

The hunter rose a brow at his first answer to his question. But he gave a soft snort and nodded gently. "Yeah I suppose so." he relented. His hand gripped the cigar and put it out on the wall. His eyes focused back to Azael.

"Yeah, well sometimes fate can be changed." he huffed, raised a brow, "And I'm often one to run for that possibility." his hands pushed into his pocket as he focused ahead. He grunted as he mentioned the odd marks. "Odd marks, drained of blood... hearts and other organs become missing..." he gave a soft chuckle, however, as he asked if he believed in such tales.

He glanced back at Azael. "I don't...it's a load of wives' tales. Something designed to keep the children in their beds at night." he lied, then shrugged, "And what about you? Do you believe in the tales?"

"I wouldn't want to deny my death unless I was forced . . . we all strive to survive in the end, dont't we?" He let himself give a snicker, and resbond to the other listing off the things found on dead bodies recently. He knew those things too well, but he was slightly confused as to how the other knew about such things. Most don't ... look at those corpses. "Rest in peace for those who were damned to such a fate." He said quietly, more than a bit shocked when the other asked him Az's own question back.

"They're merely stories weaved to explain things one cannot explain." At least he was still as good at lying as he used to be. And in some ways, he is telling the truth. At least what he would've said once upon a time at least; it made it easier to tell the lie. "People, are simply just being creative in their way of murder ..."

Taking the tavern door in within his reach now, the man pushed the door in with his hand inclosed in maroon leather -colors that looked like dried blood. and glanced back at his company, "Well, you joining me?"

His eyes focused onto him and he snorted a little bit. "Mm...Some take life a little too lenient, it seems." he walked and he did relish at the shocked and confused vibe in the air. He glanced over toward him. "You have that right."

Ivor walked, listening to him explain his views on the subject. It seemed that he wasn't for cliche openings, if he was a vampire. "Creative...I suppose that's a valid observation in an otherwise weird situation."

They had reached the tavern, and he glanced towards the building then to his companion. "A drink would be nice." he mused and then walked in with him.

"We're an interesting race of living creatures after all- creativity doesn't have to only be used for the good." Following the other inside, he let the door shut behind him in a soft shud. The inside was rustling around with people as due to the odd murderers people were balking more and more to the idea of walking outside underneath the moon. It made it harder to feed of course . . . And the drunken isn't the best either, the alcohol passing through their blood to his veins.

Fishing out a couple of coins he had in his pockets, the man walked seemly casually to the counter -well, at least his posture was, his face was wary however- and slid the coins over. Murmuring something into the ears of the bartender, the man across the counter took the coins after getting the order. Sitting down at an empty seat with another next to him, Az glanced back to see if the other would follow and sit down.

((uhhh i said "murmur" since i don't want to make any mistakes as to what peeps of those days drink xD))