Fading Purpose

[Hatura]

This wasn't supposed to happen.

That was all Hatura could think of as she sprinted blindly in the back alleys risking only short glances behind her each time expecting hundreds of guards to come to around the corner chasing her, throwing spears and letting out calls like she was some animal in a twisted hunting game...none ever came.

She turned one final corner before finding a small recess in a wall and slamming her back against the wall huffing and panting in an attempt to get her breath back "Not good..." she breathed out while sliding her back against the wall before finally sitting down, the cold night wall sent chills up her sensitive spine though they were hardly registered as her brain was concerned with much more important things 'you killed a man' her conscious spoke to her with a voice that dripped with its own guilty venom, each word was like a thousand tiny pinpricks at once that sent a horrid chill through her as her hands clasped at her own head in a vain attempt to silence it;
'You didn't kill just any man, you killed a guard' her hands began clasping clumps of her matted down hair 'that's a major offense isn't it? That man probably had a family to care for...his house key says so...don't you think so?' Hatura's hands brought up the key on impulse; the key was securely tied around a large bag holding what seemed to be the guard's salary;
the voice spoke again 'you want to know what the worse part of it is?' tears were starting to form up in her eyes now and only now did she realize that she had been muttering to herself this whole time almost pleading with it to stop 'you want to know? Do you really, reeeaally want to know~?' Hatura's breathing was picking up pace again, 'the truth is...you liked it' Hatura's eyes widened as she looked down to her hands stained with the guards blood, how was this much blood on her hands? He was stabbed with his own blade sure, but this much blood? It was still liquid and dripping off her hand, that should be impossible, with how much she ran the air would have dried it out by now.

Hatura calmed herself down deciding to have a mature take on things and think rationally as she gazed at the blood, but the more Hatura stared into the crimson fluid the more mesmerized she became with it the color matched her hair almost perfectly like her hair had been dyed in it before, would her hands eventually turn the same color, Forever imprinting her deed on her body like a tattoo for all to see? Finally breaking the trance she had been captured in Hatura thought for a good long moment wondering what her next course of action would be ‘Do it again’ Hatura cocked her head this 'voice' it wasn't the self-loathing voice that should be her guilty conscious, in fact it never was to begin with,‘look how much you accomplished, with such a simple act too’  those previous pin-pricks of guilt turned into a perverse feeling of pleasure, the voice was right…no ‘the voice’ wasn't what it was, since it was her own voice inside her head.

Holed away in a concave part of a wall Hatura pondered on her feelings of recent events, they should disgust her, they were wrong, a crime, she killed a man in cold blood, yet it didn't bother her, in fact it excited her more than anything the way the man crumpled to the ground as his blood poured from his wound the fire of life fading from his eyes as he stared at her in a mix of horror and anger before his life ended ‘not only was that exciting and fun to watch’ she thought to herself “I stole his life, and his possessions” she was so enraptured by her thoughts she was longer aware that she had started talking to herself “I’m no longer homeless, killing that man brought me out of that damned life!” Hatura stood up in excitement “I wonder how else I could have killed him? And why didn't I listen to my own voice sooner? It feels right, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders”.

Exiting her hiding place Hatura took a final look at her hands, the left one was somewhat dry now but the right one, through it seemed to be a mix of sweat and blood, it still dripped, she decided she liked it that way though and began walking down the alley examining the key in her left hand trying determine where the lock it was designed to fit was, If she couldn't figure it out she would just have ‘persuade’ the information out of someone and then perhaps she even see what other fun things she could do before taking their gold for herself, if she kept this up she could afford all sorts of things for her new home,the thought alone made her giddy; best of all though? The guards would never suspect a thing; first off, would they suspect a homeless looking girl? Of course not! Especially not one with a home to hide out in if they did suspect her.

Hatura continued walking with an ever widening grin upon her face, she couldn't wait any longer, she began looking around for either her new home or someone who might have some information of where it was.

[Rosier Moore]

A clicking could be heard as Rosier seemed to skip down the alleyway. Whistling a little bit to himself happily. Hands in the pockets of his trousers, a bar tending long-sleeve shirt pulled up above his elbows, under a black tight vest. His dark red hair seemed messier than usual, swept to one side as if he slept on it funny. His eyes just as black as any other day.

He was off to find another meal. Another fun time. And because of this, he was paying much attention to everything. The sights around him, the sounds. The smells. Despite his terrible eyesight, his nose was just as good as usual. Happily, he scented some blood.

Perhaps Devan, he thought to himself with a grin. The half giant didn't scare Rosier- in fact, Rosier was very much amused by him. Perhaps he could tease the man more today.

The scent of blood grew stronger. His steps grew quieter. It did not take too long to catch up with the scent.

But to his surprise, it was a girl. Homeless looking, scrawny girl. He raised an eyebrow. Blood indeed dripped from her hand onto the ground. He followed for a short moment, as quietly as he could. Finally, he called out.

"Are you hurt? Or are you another wanderer of these alleys?" Rosier grinned widely, showing his white fangs as he spoke from behind the walking girl.

He was amused. It was not Devan it seemed. And she seemed too happy to be hurt. But that did not mean the blood was hers. And it did not mean the blood was not hers, either.

Either way, this might have proved to be an interesting day.

[Hatura]

Hatura was too caught up in her thoughts to hear anything close to whistling or clicking, still wearing the stupid grin on her face, that smile was quickly wiped away with her thoughts when a voice spoke up from behind causing her to whirl around on her heel sending any still clinging droplets of blood to scatter about as she stared at the man her purple eyes scanning him with curiosity.

The man's clothes resembled that of a bartender's and they were kept remarkably clean though the opposite might as well be said for his red hair, reminding Hatura all too much of the mess of hair on her own head; above all else Hatura was put on edge by two things: the man's teeth, they weren't natural but they were different to say the least, and last but certainly not least were his eyes she could see the iris clearly its molten red penetrating any darkness separating them and yet she couldn't see the sclera it was if it didn't exist or it was hiding in the darkness.

'Hurt or a wanderer' Hatura paused on the question neither seemed like a good option, despite the man's appearance, his smile told her that he knew she wasn't hurt or that if she was the would be trouble down the line; if she said wanderer that meant she was no one important which would be good or bad depending on what kind of person this stranger was.

Despite her better judgement Hatura answered "You could say i'm a wanderer, i'm kind of looking for something right now, not that its any businesses of yours" Hatura gave off a cocky grin and kept it up as she finally realized why this bartender's teeth bothered her so much: he was a vampire, 'great hope this doesn't turn into a fight, never fought a vampire before' Hatura thought behind her grin 'though...it could be fun to she just how much he can stand' Hatura's grin grew more genuine as the dark thoughts entered her mind.

"In all honesty i should be asking you what your doing here" Hatura took a few paces better positioning herself so that the vampire couldn't get behind her encase anything happened, "You wouldn't happen to be here looking for your next meal would you vamp?" Hatura lifted her blood soaked and wiggled her fingers as if to taunt him. 

[Rosier Moore]

He didn't much like being called a vamp, or vampire, or anything of the sort. As if he were in denial- 'I'm a bloodsucking monster! Not a vampire!' He very much hoped that to be true. Alas, he was what he feared the most out of everything.

Rosier calmly looked the girl over. She could probably be mistaken as a young male- maybe fifteen years of age, if Rosier had to guess. But he was also partially blind- he couldn't see for shit.

Oh, but she was a cocky bugger- none of his business! Perhaps, but he was curious, and didn't care to get into peoples personal space. Any he considered a friend knew that well- Devan, thought not a friend, would probably learn it soon. If he had not already.

"Well, in all honesty I don't believe you have that authority, love," he smirked back at her, shoving his hand into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. A bad habit he had picked up in his last town. Something he rarely did often, if not to add to his demeanor. Honestly, he couldn't care less for smoking.

"But such a lovely young lass such as yourself deserves an answer- yes, of course, I am in fact looking for my next meal. Now no need to worry, I do have a slight moral code. Unless I'm desperate, I won't hunt anyone under the age of 18."

He didn't exactly realize she was nineteen. Something that he should have considered. But she looked fifteen to him, from where he was standing, not to mention his eyesight.

"But I have to ask then, if you are not hurt, than whose blood is that?" he cocked his head to the side, and sucked in a bit of his cigarette before letting the smoke fly, and folding his arms across his chest.

[Hatura]

Hatura raised an eyebrow at the vampiric bartender's response it wasn't verbal but it seem liked he was bothered by it mainly because he paused and he didn't seem like the type to just pause, on one hand it meant something to him, something he was obviously not happy about or something he was really mad about, on the other hand Hatura really wanted to see this smiling bartender get angry.

"Oh, did those words bother you vamp-y? so sorry" Hatura was mocking him now, she was excited to see how far his boundaries bent let alone, but she was even more interested to see what happened when he snapped, her mind racing at the possibilities she could use if that happened, the very possibilities she would never have dared took before moving to this city.  

"Humph, i have more authority then you, vamp" Hatura muttered under her breath and looked away making it obvious she was annoyed and lying, she was always told she didn't have any authority from guards to other homeless looking for an excuse to take her hard-earned and begged for food,
those people disgusted her, making one more reason to move here no one could boss her around now, at least not without a broken nose.

Hatura's eyes flicked back to the 'Bartender' when he mentioned her as lovely, the heat of a blush threatened to begin spreading throughout her cheeks Hatura's thoughts dragged her away 'he thinks i'm lovely? as in i look good? was i wrong about this guy? maybe he isn't so bad....wait, no focus girl! what was he saying he is here for a meal? right! right!' "under the age of 18"...Hatura's eye twitched 'oh fuck this guy!' 

Hatura nodded arms crossed as the man continued talking she wasn't listening much rage blocking out most of the noise she caught something about the blood on her and she figured she would answer, boy would she answer.

"Right, right, blood, meal whatever you can lick the blood off my hand like it's a freaking spoon after this, but um, what was that last part?" Hatura's eyes held fire behind them, no one calls her a kid and walks away that was for sure, "Wait, wait i remember you said i look under 18...i look young to you? someone immature someone who hasn't experienced hardships, that it?"
Hatura was mad, or upset either way she wanted to yell at somebody and no doubt it would be this creepy vampire bartender she was marching towards; as she reached him she grabbed his collar to pull him down to face level
"Cause if that's the case you and I are going to have quite the 'chat' okay? and you'll find very soon how just how i got a guard's blood on my hands"
Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing back down as she let that bit of info slip out, she didn't like giving others things they could use against her it could never turn out well.     

[Rosier Moore]

He seemed to have offended the poor lass. Rosier stopped smiling, as he squinted his eyes slightly. Damn eyesight... it usually gets me into trouble in fights, but social situations? Nope. Never. Ever. He couldn't tell what age she was now.

But Rosier was quick to realize that this girl had guts- she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to her height. He was quite a bit tall, even for a grown mans standards, so being pulled down to the height of this short girl was odd. But he did not resist- let the girl vent out. He feared no man, or woman. So this was nothing to him.

Rosier himself felt like he should resolve the issue, anyways. The girl was clearly not one he would hunt. And besides; he had never made a woman this angry before.

He was surprised at her openness about killing a guard. Quickly he relaized she did not mean to say it, as he watched her eyes, but took no note. Whom she killed did not matter at that moment. If anything it would make for an interesting story. How did the girl come to harm a guard?

"Listen doll, I doubt someone immature could have the blood of another man on their hands and be sane. Neither do I believe a young person couldn't experience hardships," his eyebrows furrowed at this. Orphaned at a young age. Turned into a vampire so young as well. Living off whatever he could find. He knew hardships. But he also grew used to them so quickly, that hardships became fun to him over time.

"I apologize if I've offended you, I couldn't exactly see you that well. But if you don't mind, you're getting blood on my shirt."
Such as him to be worried about his clothing, rather than himself, as the blood began to seep through a bit of the black vest, but mostly his white collared shirt he had on.

It was his favourite shirt, too.

[Hatura]

The Bartender offered no resistance to being grabbed by the collar nor being brought down to her face level despite his tallness, no argument what-so-ever he didn't even let out a single protest to being violently pulled down, Hatura hated him for that, hated that he just took it, she pulled her fist back as far as it allowed wanting to drive it into his face and see him bleed...no she didn't, there was i difference in killing a man for reason or gain and killing a man for just a little pet peeve.

With a sigh she let her fist drop to her side, she couldn't hit him, he wasn't even putting a up a fight, that was no fun, and it was just plain mean to do something like that, Hatura turned her head away feeling ashamed with herself for being so hot-tempered but still listened to him while looking out the corner of her eye; as he seemed to sympathize with her troubles she felt even more like a fool for wanting to punch him, he seemed to understand what she had gone through and the furrowing of his brow indicated to her that he may know all too well what she went through giving her even more guilt of desiring to punch him now.

Finally, he apologized, and that's what broke Hatura, no one had apologized to her for anything from homeless to city folk all of them seemed to act like she deserved it, deserved it for being homeless, but here he was apologizing for something so petty as making her mad.

Letting go of the man's collar she turned away not caring that her back was exposed, right now that fact seemed to pale in comparison then not letting him see the tears that welled up in her eyes, the apology was what cemented it, that was free of her repressive lifestyle, that she no longer would be a poor beggar looked upon with disgust, she would be someone, someone of respect.

"N-no i-i'm sorry, my fault, um...yeah" Hatura took a shaken breath and made sure her eyes were dry before before turning around, "So, you got a name there vamp-y? or shall i keep calling you that?" she switched back to her attitude to being direct but still held a secret thanks to the man, for not taking her to seriously.

[Rosier Moore]

The girl rather did confuse him. He didn't flinch when she reeled back to hit him. Though he had to wonder why she wanted to hit him in the first place. Rosier was apologizing, after all.
Human's are confusing...
He stood straight once more as she let him go, and he began to fix his appearance; including his hair, which revolted him at that moment. How he left the house with a head like that, he did not know.
And his shirt- dots of blood lined the collar, and a bit of a soaked part at the front. How disappointing!

He looked up as he fixed his collar and the girl spoke, and he had to wonder why her back was turned. Turning your back on a vampire? A stupid idea, especially when he had mentioned already that he was looking for a meal. Rosier wasn't exactly the nicest looking guy, either.

The vampire took another swig of his smoke, eyebrows furrowed even more. Her voice was shaking a bit. Was she that upset? What did he do? She was apologizing. She was becoming more and more confusing to Rosier.

But more and more interesting, as well.

His face had returned to normal by the time she turned to face him, and he had to smile. At least she wouldn't be calling him a vampire anymore.
"I'd prefer to be called Rosier, if you don't mind. And your name, my dear?"
It wasn't like he would use it; he was much more used to flirting or endearing names for women. Last names for men. Rarely using a first name, unless to address someone directly.

Though at the very least she didn't look upset anymore. Direct, as she was before.
He was more relieved that his shirt was not going to be more soaked in any more blood.

[Hatura]

Hatura felt like laughing but suppressed it into a grin as she looked back on her past performance, maybe she really had gone insane after killing that guard but she doubted it she was too strong-willed for that, it was always a possibility though, she just hope that her sanity would hold the next time she had to kill, after all there was no way she could continue this lifestyle without killing again.
When she had turned around she found that the bartender had fixed his appearance, in which she took the opportunity to look over herself, to her own surprise she had more blood on her than she thought the dark blotches on her coat nearly looking as if it was designed that way, she prayed that blood was easier to wash out than people let on.

Seeing the vampire smoking brought Hatura thoughts back to her not-so-past homelessness, there was always one smoker she hung around, what was his name again? Oh yeah, “Smokey Pete” a severely burned man that would trade anything for a good cigar despite always having at least one in his mouth, ‘at least’ being the key words seeing as the average was around five at a time, (how he got so burned was never a mystery), in fact she had some cigarettes own her person at the moment, she was going to trade with him but escaping the city came first, maybe she could find someone else...

Hatura nodded and muttered the bartender’s name under in breath as if taking it into serious consideration before returning her gaze to him with a grin “Rosi’ huh? Pleasure to meet you I’m Hatura Kotame” she added a nod as if to suggest she had set it in stone, she didn’t care that she had used her full name, what was he going to do? Go to the guards? Who would they believe: the innocent homeless girl or the bloodthirsty vampire? Her safety was assured.
As Rosi’ fussed with his shirt she scoffed, how can anyone care so much about their out ward appearance? If someone insulted your look you break their nose it was as simple as that, “You still fussing with your shirt Rosi? Look I’m sorry alright; I’ll buy you a new one or something” Hatura crossed her arms, she needed a few shirts herself, she had serious doubts that any of the murdered guard’s clothes would fit her, maybe they could act as sleepwear; “You look better with a dash of red anyway, matches your…uh…eyes?” Hatura had a hard time looking into them; they looked as if they lead into some dark abyss that held something that wasn’t all too friendly and it was someplace she didn’t want to be that was for sure.

“What’s up with your eyes anyway? Got some kind of disease?” Hatura wanted to look at them but they kept pulling themselves away refusing to meet eye-to-eye.

[Rosier Moore]

His face fell slightly flat as he stopped fiddling with his shirt.
"Please refrain from calling me Rosi'," he said, staring at her for a moment before beginning to finish up his fixing of his shirt once more.
No way in hell would anyone call him that. It was a girls name, for the Gods sakes. Not to mention he didn't like it in general.

Rosier was the name his parents gave him, and the name he was keeping. Not 'Rosi'.

Hatura Kotame. Foreign then; but he didn't know where from. He had heard Avaleur was a diverse place. He did not hear wrong then.
Looking her over he realized that she was quite the mess. Whatever her age, he felt rather bad. A girl covered in blood...

She must be horrified at the state of her clothing, he thought.

He scratched at the back of his neck a bit uncomfortably.
"'Suppose my eyes are just a mutation of sorts in the vampire gene. Not many have it, but hey, guess I'm just special."

He didn't consider vampirism 'special'. Not at all. And he certainly didn't like his eyes.
Rosier had yet to figure out what the hell his eyes were up to though. The men whom attacked him as a child had the same eyes.

Would he turn as wretched as those beasts?

"And don't worry about my shirt, lovely. I have more at home. No need to get me anything. Rather, I believe you might want to change clothes yourself. You look a lot worse than me."
He looked her over once more, a peculiar smile on his face as he folded his arms across his chest, flicking a bit of ash onto the ground before taking another swig of his cigarette.

[Hatura]

Seeing Rosier’s facial expression change and hearing his immediate disdain for his new nickname Hatura felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like the name Rosi’? I think it suits you” Hatura had started biting her lip to keep from giggling too much; she found another way to mess with him.

Hatura pulled her crossed arms a little tighter to her chest, her smile disappearing, as she was looked over no matter what way she looked at it his eyes still creeped her out, it was especially more unnerving considering she was practically being stared at by those abyssal eyes as well.
She paid rapt attention as Rosi’ explained his eyes to her, it was just a mutation? Then why was she still nervous about them? Was there more to them that even Rosi’ didn't know about? Hatura shook her head slightly casting away the foolish thoughts “You’re ‘special ’alright, I’ll give you that” Hatura raised an eyebrow as she answered hoping her sarcasm ran through.

“I’m still going to be called ‘lovely’ even though I told you what my name is?” Hatura cocked her head slightly as she asked, it wasn't that she hated it or anything, it was actually quite nice to have a compliment for a nickname, but it may get old after a bit. She let a small sigh of relief out as he informed her she didn't need to buy anything, more money for her after all, though a frown formed on her face as the topic of changing her clothes came up “My clothes? The pants are fine” Hatura remarked bringing a leg out into open view, “If you’re talking about my coat though, unless you’re opting to give me your shirt I am not taking my coat off, I don’t exactly have anything on underneath” Hatura tugged on her collar for emphasise, social mannerism was completely unknown to her that much was plain to see.

Hatura leaned back a bit as Rosier smiled “What? Would you rather suck the blood out? It’s a free meal I suppose” Hatura pulled on her coat a bit as if offering.

[Rosier Moore]

His lips, curved up in a smile, spoke once more, "I drink blood. I'm not obsessed with it. It's probably tainted with germs at this point, but, thank you for the offer."
He had to chuckle. He wondered if she was kidding, or seriously offering the blood to him. Either way it amused him.

Rosier tilted his head slightly before speaking again, a twitch to the side of his lip.
"Am I still going to be called 'Rosi' even thought I told you what my name is?" he said it as a question, but it was more of a statement. He prayed she wouldn't call him Rosi' much longer. He was not similar to a rose in any way, shape or form.

Perhaps both took the blood of others, but that was where the similarities ended in Rosier's fair opinion.

But a thought came to his mind. He shouldn't let a young girl- or older girl, however he looked at it- walk around with blood on her coat. Especially with that much blood.

So he did what any gentleman would do- even if he were no gentleman for the most part. He began undoing his vest, and taking his shirt off.
"There might be blood on my shirt as well, but hell, its a lot less than yours. Just to get home at least. And I do expect it back at some point."

With that, his shirt was off, and he threw it to Hatura. On his chest were a fair amount of scars. Burn scars, bumpy ones, ones that went inward. Not too many people liked him- a murderer. On his back was the worst of all. The one the vampires who killed him gave him. Long, from his shoulder to one of his hips. Jagged. Deep.
But, his back turned away from Hatura, she couldn't see. He didn't mind anyone seeing the scars on his chest. But his back? That he did not like. Just as the band on his arm covered the bite mark that changed him forever.

Quickly he threw on his vest and turned around to allow for some privacy.
"Mind telling me how you ended up killin a guard?" he asked.

[Hatura]

Hatura:

“Tainted with germs, eh? You sure know how to talk to a lady, slick, I’ll remember that” Hatura replied sullenly while playing with the one bang that hung between her eyes, she wasn’t about to get enraged so easily nor did she want too she had already made that mistake earlier, and all it lead to was her looking like a fool, so she was lovely and tainted? The more she thought an about the more she didn’t care, eventually ending it with a shrug of her shoulders, maybe she’ll just call him Rosi’ at every opportunity she got from now on.


“Of course!” Hatura bounced on her feet when she answered the question of continuing to use that nickname; while absolutely beaming and bringing a more younger -feminine sound to her voice as if the prospect of it excited her like she was some kind of over-joyed schoolgirl, “After all you are calling me ‘lovely’, that seems fair right Rosi?” she added, snapping back to her cocky tone of voice, “Besides you’re red like a rose so it fits” giving a half-shrug she grinned at him eager for his reply, hopefully one laced with frustration.


Hatura had been flat-out joking at the prospect of him giving her his shirt, so when he began undoing his shirt and vest in front of her she slowly brought herself into a panic ignoring everything he said ‘what the hell is he doing? It’s not that warm out…oh god is he? No, I knew this guy was creepy but not this creepy! I better get out of here before he-’ Hatura’s thought process ended as Rosi’s shirt was tossed over to her, grabbing it out of instinct she looked up “o-oh um…thanks?” she had given her thanks a million times to strangers on the street for their ‘kindness’ but this was the first time she had spoken it in genuine no matter how mixed with confusion it was, she still didn’t understand why he threw his shirt at her.


Hatura inadvertently stared at the scars riddled across Rosi’s chest there were a lot, so much in fact that he was getting up there with Smokey Pete, which was a disturbing prospect considering how bad he was, she assumed a majority of them were due to his ‘condition’ after-all it would be pretty hard to make friends while you’re nibbling on their neck; which brought her to her own past, she was lucky to get out unscathed, though maybe she had a scar or two she didn’t know about, considering her circumstances when she was living on the streets, she just hoped it wouldn’t be here that she would be scarred up or worse.


She eyed Rosi’ as he was turned around, this was her chance to run, get out of here and never see him again (and get a free shirt out of the deal) though despite the temptation she stayed, he had given her the very shirt off her back after all, she still didn’t know why, but his back was turned so she might as well change, she couldn’t just run on him now.


She looked around continually, though mostly focused on Rosier’s back, as she began undoing the buckles surrounding her body, the bag on her back and the bucket on her front falling to the ground with distinct noises for each, before taking her coat off and switching as fast as possible to the shirt which, looked ridiculous on her considering their height differences causing it to practically hang off her in a similar fashion to her previous attire; as she finished fixing the look of it to fit her better (which involved a lot of rolling and tucking of the fabric) she responded to his question “Yeah, sure; so long as you tell me about a few of those scars, and don’t you pin it on being extremely clumsy around fire and sharp objects or something” .

[Rosier Moore]

Rosier grimaced; he did not want to be called Rosi'. But it seemed that this girl was intent on it, even going so far as to compare him to a rose.
Appearances are not everything, my dear, he thought to himself, as he continued to look forward, unaware if the girl was getting dressed or not. He assumed she would; perhaps she did not mean for him to give her his shirt literally, but that did not mean that he wouldn't.

Rosier was a bit of a sass.

He listened carefully as he could hear each of her items falling to the ground, thinking to himself about this situation. This was probably the closest he had ever gotten to someone who didn't mind being around him; in his entire life, let alone in Avaleur. Devan absolutely despised him, and both men knew it. Delliks had seemed weary of him; not to mention Delliks didn't know anything about him. But this girl? She knew he was a vampire. Wasn't afraid to yell at him. But at the same time, was being rather... nice. Perhaps it was because she was a murderer herself.

He was satisfied with the thought. Perhaps someone he could use later on in his time here. Until then, she was entertaining. And that made Rosier oddly happy.

The vampire smirked; so that was how she wanted to play it. He tells her something about him. She tells him something about her. He supposed it was reasonable. But that did not mean he wanted to tell. He didn't care either way, but he was curious about her.

He turned his head slightly to the side to see if she was done, and when he realized she was all changed he smiled and turned back around. Getting right into it. With his vest open you could see many of the scars. Rosier pointed to one on his breastplate, a rather large, ugly burn scar.

"That one was in Winchest. A small little village. Found out I was the vampire killing people, and tried to kill me. One of them nearly did when he lit me on fire, but I suppose I was lucky. Near a river."
He pointed to another, this time in the middle of his chest. An inverted scar.
"That one... forgot where it was, but it was a rather small town. One night, I was feasting, and a guard caught me by surprise. Nearly sliced my chest right open."

He looked over his body, realizing just how many scars he had. He blushed a little; they surely made him look off.

"Those are the biggest ones I suppose. All related with someone trying to kill me, for the most part. Now your turn," he looked up again with a slight smile, curiosity dancing on his eyes.

[Hatura]

((So basically I just have to write my character sheet: backstory again lol))



Hatura stared intently as Rosi’ explained each of his scars listening to his stories slightly interested in how he got them, though despite her best efforts she visibly flinched when a guard was mentioned causing visions to invade her mind, visions of the dead guard coming back alive bursting into her home and doing the exact same to her as she had done to him, she didn’t regret killing the guard but couldn’t help but feel like somehow it would return to get her somehow, she just hoped she would be prepared for when it did.


Slowly she snapped back into the conversation regarding Rosier’s scars and responded immediately after he finished talking “Well Rosi, if you find a girl who likes scars I’d say she would be all over you, though honestly I couldn’t care any less how damaged you are” a smug grin grew on her face and she was about to add a snide remark about Rosier’s vampirism but kept to herself, the last thing she needed was to remind both of them that a certain vampire in the alley still hasn’t eaten yet and she was an optional target.


Hatura’s grin wicked away and fidgeted in the shirt she wore, which was more stiff than she was used too, as she came to the realization that it was her turn to tell him about her past, she couldn’t think of a worse thing to talk about then that, the more she thought about it the more she didn’t want anyone to know about but most of all, she didn’t want to remember it.


Hanging her head low causing her bangs to cover her eyes as she tapped her foot anxiously; taking a deep breath she returned her gaze back to Rosier opening her mouth, yet the closer she got to talking about it the harder it seemed causing her to freeze; Hatura exhaled loudly before clapping her hands to together and speaking, hardening her expression, “Alright I’m going to give you the whole story so I better not hear about this from someone else later alright!?” she kept tapping her foot hoping it might alleviate the tension she had, “I…I’m t-trusting you alright?” Hatura’s expression softened and she averted her eyes to the side to avoid any kind of direct contact with Rosier, she never trusted anyone in her life up until this point; with another sigh she continued “Hope you’re comfortable because this is going to take a while” she kicked the red bucket previously strapped to her chest forward a little before sitting down on it and looked up at Rosier.


“I’ll give you a summarized version, or try too at least” she quickly flicked away the bang hanging between her eyes, though the effort was useless, before starting her story “Growing up I didn’t have any parents to take care of me so I had to learn from others, I had to watch, mimic, and master being a beggar if I wanted to survive in this world, which made me hate the world I suppose, everyone was better than me, had more money, they all lived happier lives while I had to depend on their generosity just to eat another meal…”


Hatura clenched her teeth as more memories from her past came back to haunt her.
“They always smiled when they did it too…pretending that they were some saint sent from god to bless some poor miserable child on the street, looking down on me with expectations…I had to smile each time and give a ‘Thank you’ for their self-gratifying egos, though they never knew that I had hundreds of other hungry eyes ready to kill me the moment they walked away, unaware I had to fight for my life”


Hatura took a deep breath, settling down, so that she could get to the point.

“Eventually I decided to leave make my life somewhere else, y’know…use my skills for something else; one day a caravan rolled in, something about the main roads being blocked or something, so they had to take the alleys…big mistake on their part, everyone attacked, I slipped in the back annnd I assumed smooth sailing from there…well, until that damned guard found me hidden under a sheet…I panicked I didn’t want to be sent to jail or worse so when he pulled his sword I grabbed it instead and stabbed him……a lot.” Hatura turned her, now dark red with dried blood, palms to Rosi’ for emphasis “I fled from the scene and now here I am…” Hatura stood up, placing her hands on her hips, scowling

“There, you got my whole life story so don’t go asking questions about my past ok?” She finished with a huff relived she didn’t have to remember anymore.


“So now I’m free to do what I want, but regardless of that…got any hobbies?” Hatura raised an eyebrow smiling a little, might as well learn all she can about this stranger for future use right? Even if it was a joke he might answer.

[Rosier Moore]

Oh, he had questions. But it was made very clear to Rosier that he wouldn't get them. Not without forcing it. And he didn't exactly want to make the girl mad. Especially since she said that she trusted him. Did she really? She could be lying about the whole thing.

But he believed her. And because of that, she became more interesting.

He had to admit her amusing remark about a girl who liked scars would be all over him; he wasn't exactly the type who liked any sort of relationships. Sexual or romantic. He might trick someone into thinking they were about to become sexual partners for the night night, just so that he could have a taste of her blood. Or his. Rosier didn't care about gender. No, he cared about blood.

But at the ask of hobbies he realized he had very few, which made it hard to keep the conversation flowing. If he were allowed to ask questions about her past it would be easy; but he couldn't exactly do that.

"I don't have very many hobbies," he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning up against a wall.
"I do enjoy fine meals though. And birds. But that's about the extent of my likes outside of being a relentless killer," he smirked, shrugging.

"I don't suppose you have too many hobbies either? Surviving is difficult enough."
He had to assume that, being homeless, she didn't have too many. What was there to do? Rosier was usually sort of homeless. And he didn't have hobbies.

[Hatura]

((Go ahead and ask questions, her being upset is just a façade more or less.))


Hatura was prepared to nod along to Rosier’s hobbies fully anticipating the monotonous everyday garbage she usually heard back on the streets it was usually something along the lines of flowers or long walks on the beach, the same things that were always exchanged between flirting couples, one trying to impress the other first, at times many of the homeless would pick out some rich looking couple and place bets on who would say the cheesiest line first, Hatura would always distance herself from those bets upper-class people were too unpredictable to risk whatever items she had on her; instead she would wonder what her life would be like if she had been born into a rich family, would she be courted by a rich or influential man? Would she have lived a happier life? Or was it fate that she’d wind up soaked in blood and grim while fleeing from the law?


Hatura could only smile as Rosier explained his first two ‘hobbies’ if some homeless people were placing bets right now whoever bet on Rosier won, a fleeting thought did make Hatura blush though, if he was using such cheesy does that mean he was flirting with her? Perhaps she could use that to her advantage; after all he did say he liked ‘fine meals’ though the very thought of food pained Hatura’s stomach reminding her that the last time she ate was back home on the streets right before the caravan arrived.


Though Hatura’s smile faltered when Rosier mentioned being a relentless killer, would she turn out like that? Not afraid to admit to killing people, hunting them down like livestock? Each time the thought entered her head Hatura felt a pang of guilt but also a shiver of anticipation, the feeling of empowerment she got knowing that she was getting revenge and sending a message to all those who ever looked down on her, seeing them fear for their life like she had so many times in her life getting them back for all the pain she endured because of their willful blindness to problems going on around them, the guard died so easily why not other people? Why not give back all the ‘kindness’ they had shown her?


Hatura jumped a little as Rosier’s question snapped her out of her trance “H-hobbies? Um…” Hatura stammered her response while trying to collect herself and her thoughts “Well, you’re right, surviving is difficult but I always enjoyed collecting things I suppose” Hatura gave a swift kick to her red bucket, the sound dulled due to her coat insulating the inside, “I just tend to pick things up that seem interesting is all.” Offering a shrug back as she explained her own interest before adding “Though I guess I better add interior design to the list” in a barely audible tone.


Hatura searched her mind for a question that would keep the conversation going until one finally emerged “Hey, Rosi’ I’ve told you my life story, but what’s your past? Perhaps you want to share how you ended up here?” Hatura didn’t wait for answer as she opened her bucket on the ground and began digging through retrieving her necklace while looking for the key to ‘her home’ all the while keeping her eyes on Rosier.

[Rosier Moore]

He smiled ever so slightly; collecting. That was a good one. He had never tried it, knowing that it would slow him down, all the sentimental junk he might collect. As he was constantly running from the law, he did not have as much length to keep things as Hatura might.

But still he would consider the girl exponentially less fortunate than he.

His eyebrow raised, a large smirk coming to his lips as she mentioned interior design; it was quickly wiped off of his face, but he still found the idea very amusing.
Perhaps one day, love, he thought to himself.

Despite all his smiling and laughing, Rosier frowned for a quick moment. His life story. How he got here. There was nothing in his life he could truly talk about except how his life as a vampire began. And there was no way he was going into detail about that.

But he would mention it; she had to him, after all.

"Ahh, a dull story indeed," he smiled, leaning up against the wall of the alley and looking up, head ever so tilted. How would he begin?
"As a kid my village was raided," quick and to the point. That sounded good. "And my family was killed. I was almost, but instead a vampire decided to be greedy and drink my blood before he killed me. Needless to say I got out alive."

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. As if that was not the most devastating part of his life. How he could still remember his dead parent's faces. How he still trembled violently at the sight of any vampire. How from then on he would be alone.

"From then on I went from town to town, city to city, living off the blood of my victims. Somewhere along the way I began to love killing."
His story sounded so boring now; Rosier decided to spice things up a tad.
"Oh, there's other happenings as well. I turned a homeless boy into a vampire so that he could survive." A lie.
"I murdered an important person from the castle in one of the countries I went to." He wished; but no, a lie.
"I fell in love." Oh, most definitely a lie.

"But other than that there's not much else to tell love," he chuckled, eyes turned to look at Hatura once more. His eyes scanned over her, looking to see what she thought of his tale. Of what little he told her, of the lies he spoke. "Anything else you want to know?"