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<center>http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b9...doll/Jacob.jpg
So are we lost or do we know
Which direction we should go
Sit around and wait for someone
to take our hands and lead the way
Cause every day we're getting older
And every day we all get colder
We're sick of waiting for our answers
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,
Yeah so tired of waiting, waiting for us to
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,
Yeah so sick of waiting, for us to make a move
Are we meant to take the pain
Should we sit around and wait
Are we being saved
Or was I another lie you made to make us hate
Cause every day we're getting older
And every day we all get colder
We're sick of waiting for our answers
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,
Yeah so tired of waiting, waiting for us to
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,
Yeah so sick of waiting, for us to make a move
It's not enough
To let it run
Where's the truth
It's all wrong
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up,
It's time to make a move</center>
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<center> http://i.esmas.com/image/0/000/003/551/alanaiaaa_N.jpg
Aria Montecalvo
So many roles for such a young life--
the victim,
the survivor,
the aggressor,
the one that wouldn't give up.</center>
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Humans call me a bounty hunter.
Demons call me The Executioner.
Either way, I'm happy just so long as I get to blow the head off of something evil.
<center>"Hi, my name's Jacob Kiernan, and I'll be your exorcist for this evening. Please tip your waitress."
http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b9...oll/Jacob2.jpg</center>
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[taken from live play]
The clinking of pure-silver chains signaled his arrival to the bouncers at Club Vampyre. Not actually a club for vampires - the undead weren't stupid enough to draw such attention to themselves - but rather a tourist trap owned by some middle-aged balding mass of sweat-stains and plaid. Black steel-toed boots smoothed along the pavement towards the back-alley entrance of the popular nightspot. Jeans hung low and strong hips, and if it weren't for the sawed-off shotgun and blood-stained leather jacket, the white button-down he wore [collar up, Elvis-style] would have seemed almost ... polite. "Evenin', Jack." A short nod towards the towering bouncer, who made no move to stop him from cutting in line and walking through the door. Once inside, however, the girl at the front desk stopped him in order to check his coat. His gun was stored safely in a special safe in the back room - they were rather willing to accomidate his ... special needs, given the fact that he had once rid them of a rather pesky infestation. And they weren't exactly roaches. Large hand brushed roughly through dusky-blonde hair, a friendly wink given to the girl. Dance floor crowded with sweat and blood and bodies moving to the heavy beats. After a full night of blowing heads off, Jacob liked to unwind to the feeling of music throbbing through his body. Despite the fact that he had no partner, he walked onto the floor boldly, ignoring the passes of various women, and slowly started moving a well-trained body to each delicious, dangerously sexual note of the song currently playing. Years of weight lifting, combat and martial arts had taught him how to move, how to groove, how to use his physicality as expression. To capture each bit of music in his flesh, and absorb it, hold it tight in his heart, and then thrust it out forcefully. Eyes drifting shut, he lost himself for that one, precious moment. Lost himself in pure, glorious oblivion.
Club Vampyre. That's what they said -- Aria Montecalvo heard about it through the grapevine that this was the place He came to unwind. The only person who could help her, that was the way the whispers went. They weren't sure if he was alive or if he was a demon himself -- nobody knew anything other than his name. Jacob. Jacob who frequented Club Vampyre, a place where actual vampires never set foot for fear of... well, him. The thought was almost too good to be true. Somewhere without vampires? Was it possible? It had taken a few hours to get in but once she did, she was clutching her purse and glancing around nervously. A slight thing with blond hair and brown eyes, she was obviously terrified of being in there at all, let alone seeking out a stranger for such a grisly mission. When she saw the tall man on the floor, lost in his own world, she felt guilty thinking of disturbing the little bit of peace he might have had. So she stuck near the bar, glancing at him every so often to make sure he was still there. When he looked as though he were headed toward the coat check, she panicked and thought he was leaving. "Jacob!" ...and now she didn't know what to say. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood there.
Though his dancing oftentimes went on for hours, he found himself ready to retire somewhat early for a change. A crowd had formed around him while he was dancing [as it often did, much to his distaste - he didn't much like being used as someone's entertainment unless he actually sought the attention, like telling a joke to a crowded room], and he had to shoulder his way through the crammed-together bodies. Half of them didn't even know what they were supposed to be staring at, so a 6'4 blonde man passing through them was of little interesting. He was all the way to the coat check before anyone properly noticed that he was missing. Leather shrugged over broad shoulders only seconds before Betsey [aforementioned sawed-off shotgun] was tucked down against his hip. She was sort of like a puppy, or a really loving girlfriend. He just didn't feel right without her. Aside from Betsey, he was single. Much to the delight of the groupies that tended to hound him. Lately, with the rise in vampirism and amount of demonic activity in the city, people had become more and more interested in the darker side of life. Jacob thought this rather ... oh, how to put this nicely? Mother fucking ignorant. Yes, that was a good way to sum it up. If some girl wasn't running out to find the newest version of Dracula and beg him to suck her blood, then she was clinging his arm asking to see his battle scars. Urgh. Just about to step out the door, he heard the tiny voice yell for him, and spun around, thinking perhaps the coat check girl had something of his that he'd forgotten, though he couldn't imagine what. When he caught the flash of her blonde hair, however, he groaned inwardly. It was too late to deal with some teenybopper who offered up her virginity to a complete stranger all because he had tattoos and carried a gun and people said he killed things. After taking a proper look at her, however, his opinion [and mood] drastically shifted. Brow furrowing just slightly, he stepped off to the side so that he didn't block the doorway, and turned his full attention to her. Something about her didn't seem quite right. Well, no, that wasn't true. It wasn't her that gave him pause, but the energy coming off of her. Something just felt ... wrong. "Can I help you?
Aria could feel her cheeks flushing into that embarassingly crimson color she had fought off since childhood. She was halfway surprised that he'd even acknowledged her and then when she realized that he was there, all 6'4 of him, she had the urge to cry. Why? Because it had been a long time since anybody even bothered to hear her voice, let alone listen to it. "I -- I need help." That was the best way to put it, she supposed, without coming right out and saying 'hey I want you kill my vampire ex-boyfriend because he won't leave me the fuck alone.' Clutching her purse close to her body, she watched him through hopeful eyes.
It wasn't the first time he'd been approached randomly. In fact, it tended to happen a lot. But these seemed different, and he found himself frowning even harder than he had been before. "Walk?" He hadn't really noticed the flush of her face, too lost in thought, so he thought nothing of gently leading her out the door, his hand on her lower back. Through the alley, past the whispers of gawking tourists and the few strangers than knew him on sight, and around the corner until they reached an abandoned park bench on the edge of the woods. Gesturing for her to sit, and soon following, sighly softly as his body relaxed against the wood. Felt good to sit down. He hadn't done it all day. "So," starting somewhat dully, because this seemed like a serious question, but he didn't want to scar the girl for life by whipping and Betsey and screaming 'WHO DO I KILL NOW?!' So he settled for his professional tone. "What can I do for you, Miss--?" Brow raised slightly, though he didn't bother to give his name. Most people knew it. And those that didn't, didn't need to. Simple as that.
Actually, from the stories she'd heard, she was half expecting him to whip out Betsey and start shooting trees and poor little birdies. He was, thankfully, much calmer than that -- or at least he appeared so, right now. For the first time in a long time she felt safe there on the park bench, right out in the open, next to him. But uh, she still sat on the edge of the bench with her purse in her lap and her cheeks red and a rose. "Aria -- uh, Aria Montecalvo. I have a problem..." No shit? Why else would she be there?! "My ex-boyfriend... he. He got -- turned? And then -- now I can't get away from him because he won't let me and I don't know what to do because I don't want to die and -- " She'd already been infected -- telltale marks on the side of her neck, although she was by no means a vampire. Just a toy, if nothing else. That explained why she was so pallid. On top of her wound, there were deep purple bruises around her wrists. Fingermarks clearly indented there and her biceps were an interesting yellow color because of the bruises healing there. "I'm sorry." Biting back a kind of sob, she buried her face in her hand. Once upon a time, Aria had been a strongwilled little pain in the ass that never worried about anything -- but now she just worried about being alive tomorrow.
"Aria." Acknowledged with a smile and the slightest cant of his head. "Beautiful name." Stated, not flirtaciously, but as a simple fact. At the mention of her ex his shoulders visibly stiffened, body ridgid. Perhaps with anger, perhaps with expectation. Despite what the world said, he didn't have a problem with vampires and demons and whatever else roamed the earth. He had a problem with evil. Even vampires could be good - all it took was a choice. Sadly, most of the bastards chose the wrong side, which was where he had to come in. "May I see?" Fingers lilting to gesture towards her neck, and when he felt she consented, he leaned forward and slid his hands along her neck. Thumbs pressed softly against either side of the bite marks, using his palms to gently move her head this way or that, just a bit so that he could see better. Quiet noises low in his throat as he continued to inspect the bruises on her arms and wrists, any other wound she might have suffered. "Bastard." Whispered under his breath, as she was already upset and he didn't want to make it worse. But then she was crying and apologizing, and he couldn't qutie figure out for what. "Hush, now. S'alright." Long arm wrapped around her shoulders firmly, pulling her towards him. Not a full-on embrace [professionals had to be careful these days, you know! Especially people in his business], but hopefully something that would comfort her. "What's his name? What can you tell me about him?" Call it pro-bono work, as he tended to get all shirty when men abused women. He was just old-fashioned like that.
Gentle touches were few and far between in her world and instead of being semi-all right with it, she was tense. "His name is Gabriel Davis and he's been this way for about a year -- I keep trying to leave and I can never go far enough away, he always finds me." Maybe it was some kind of imprint in her blood, she didn't know, but he could always find her. Even if she flew to Antarctica, she was sure he would find her. "I don't know anything about this, other than he doesn't like silver and he can't be around crucifixes and if I ever try to get one, he makes sure I don't -- I can't believe I even made it here, to talk to you." When he folded her in a professional hug, she clung to him gratefully. Mostly because he was the first person she had talked to in a long time.
Gabriel Davis. Tattooed across his brain, now. It wasn't that he had a photographic memory, but years of high-danger situations had trained his brain to memorize things clearly and quickly - a skill anyone could acquire under the right circumstances. "Listen, why don't I take you back to my apartment?" Hands held up quickly, deflecting any enraged screeches of 'OH MY GOD YOU LECHEROUS CREEP!' Shaking his head quickly back and forth so she didn't get the wrong impression. "I'm not hitting on you, no, I'm not talking about anything even remotely close to that. But I have a spare bedroom in my apartment, which I keep just for occasions like this. People need help, can't escape, need a safe place to sleep at night." Moving away from the hug just enough so she could look him in the eye if she wanted to be sure of his sincerity. "It locks from the inside only, so there's no way I - or anyone you don't want around - could get inside without a lot of effort to break the damn thing down. And believe me when I say, vampires don't really come a-knockin' on my door." Most likely because what appeared to be a gorgeous, if modest, of apartment on a lovely tree-lined street was actually plated in silver [under the walling and hard wood floors] with crosses plastered in every single room and various savage weaponry hid in highly specific places. "I can't think of any place safer for you to sleep. Even if Mr. Davis decides he wants to come and get you, he wouldn't make it through the front door." Boobie traps and fire were such fun.
For an entire year she'd been searching for some place to find one decent night's sleep. No, she was not a vampire but she was forced to live like one because the night could not be trusted. To sleep was to die, really, and she didn't like the thought of that. In fact, she didn't sleep very much at all anymore, but she wasn't about to launch into her resting habits with this stranger who was offering her the things she'd hoped he would. "Oh yes, please." Practically breathless in accepting the offer, she stood up like a little zombie and swallowed. "I think... I think maybe we should go. Now."
Call it a sixth sense.
