@naiveete

Vampires burn up in the light of the Sun. Not any other Suns, just the one.

NASA scientists theorize this is because vampires committed an affront towards the Sun many eons ago, and the reason we haven't encountered extraterrestrial life is because they're all vampires.

Sucking candied goo out of a tube, Azazel stared from behind his sunglasses. Even though the sun had gone down by now, he still kept them covering his eyes. His eyes were not in much pain at the moment, but they were pink from irritation. He didn't want to be asked if he was high, or something like that. He walked down the line of booths, now closed or closing, more or less. He would have to say this night was one of the strangest nights he had had in some time. He didn't like it, all those alarm bells he was ignoring were now flaringly loud in his mind. Turning his head as a woman approached him, he jerked his body away from their hands as they moved too close for comfort toward him.

Staring the woman up and down, he frowned. Then glanced at the booth she must have come rushing from. Quirking an eyebrow at what she was saying, he tilted his head a little bit, “A book?” Pulling the tube from his mouth, which he had been holding there awkwardly, he licked out the little dollop of goo that had been squeezed out before closing it up as he slipped it into his coat pocket. As the woman continued talking, he nodded his head. Of course, he did think she seemed a little off. But he had no room to talk. So he kept his mouth shut. Biting on his bottom lip, Azazel narrowed his eyes in thought, “Them?-Who are you trying to understand?” He turned his head as if 'them' might show up. But then he figured it was a bit silly to think such a thing. It was probably something completely normal, like a Spanish dictionary. He hated taking Spanish. Clearing his throat then he lifted his head a bit at the offer for payment, “Whoa whoa. I don- No, I don't want money-idontevenknowwhatyouretalkingabout-” He muttered at the end, sucking on his teeth and taking in a breath.

Azazel cleared his throat again, raising his hands and making calming motions with them, “Hey, take a breath, alright. Where's this book you need for…them?” Coins? He noted, then shrugged it off for the moment, “I'll cover it. No need to pay me back.” Whatever would make her happy, she seemed desperate, so he wasn't feeling inclined to take advantage of her. Especially with the knowledge that she was struggling to buy a book, now. Azazel offered a nervous smile, “After you?”

OPEN: weekend of horrors, outside a mystery booth that's still open for an unknown reason.

april 21st after 8pm / @boneyardstarters

the woman's eyes widened as she saw the other passing by. "oh- could you help me?" emmeline widened her eyes and held out her hands. "it's just- there's this book... over in there-" she pointed back to the mysterious booth still open for reasons not explained. although they rejected her offer, she felt like it was calling to her to find out more. she was battling with herself because this was how it had all started - vampires - vampires where there wasn't any vampires in sight.. okay... perhaps she'd actually seen one as a child or just dreamed about it but she was here, had seen that book and nothing else mattered. emmeline seemed erratic, yes, but she never meant any harm. "this book... it'll help me understand them..." don't say they're real, emmeline, the whisper in her head told her. there was no doubt that she'd been right about this but also, a broken clock is right two times a day. "i will pay you back! i don't have the coins right now but i can get them." it was bordering on dangerous territory."

Of course, not everyone was fully aware he had returned. It wasn't like he was trying to broadcast it, either. It was already a problem enough to explain to those he absolutely had to, about his absence, and then return. Without actually having to tell them what it was about. The current goings-on were a graceful distraction from all of that, however. People were more interested in their fun than in asking why he was away so long, what he was doing, and why people thought he might be dead. Clearly, he wasn't dead, but maybe he contemplated it at this point. Sweat coated as he stepped into the bar, looking somewhat sickly but quite presentable. All he had to do was tell himself he was fine, and the mental fortitude he was forcing on himself did the rest of the work. Moving to take a seat as he saw a familiar head in front of him, he grinned at the exclamation. Then, reaching over, he playfully pinched Faye's cheek, gently, before pulling his hand away from her face.

Then flagged down the bartender currently working, thankful it wasn't Cyrek. He supposed the other might be out having fun, or something he didn't want to think about at the moment. Maybe if he were lucky, the other might be face down in a ditch, and out of his hair. Okay, perhaps that was undeserved. He didn't wish anything too awful to happen to his…acquaintance. But, lately, his former irritation with the other seemed to reignite itself, with the other's previous actions perhaps being a little more unresolved for him than he previously thought. Azazel turned to properly face Faye, then said, “Did you miss me?” He asked as his drink, the usual he ordered, was placed in front of him, “Finally, some good liquor.” He muttered, gulping down the whole shot. Toying with the glass, he winces a bit, then continues, “Surprised you didn't see me before now, what have you been doing?”

event: weekend of horrors

location & date: the mean eyed-cat bar, april 21st, 1996 @ 9pm

closed starter: @withoutmonsterswebecomethem

a rather large throng of individuals occupied the mean-eyed cat bar this particular evening, but as expected, in blatant honesty. after all, it was the weekend of horrors, indicating the turnout consisted of a variety of characters and personalities, far and wide in between. some were dressed clad in cartoon themed attire, a group of young men donning each of the teenage mutant ninja turtles while some sported a flared out collar and a mimicked dribble of blood trailing from the corner of their lips. bringing the corner of her shot glass up to down the contents of vodka, faye couldn't help but to smoothly chuckle to herself upon the keen observance. oh, the irony. lips twist up to form a soured expression after the thick liquid cascaded down her throat, a brief shake of her head triggering corkscrew coils to fly about as though the action itself would aid in minimizing the alcohol's strength. but that wasn't the point at all, she was here for a purpose and that was to become under the influence. luckily for faye, her heightened sensitivities would allow that to take place quite easily. slamming the glassware down onto the mahogany surface, her thoughts come to a pause once she notices a familiar form settling down beside her, bambi like eyes widening by just the smallest fraction before she exclaimed, "pinch me!" talk about seeing a ghost.

He couldn't guess when exactly he even fell asleep, to be honest. Maybe that was just part of what was going on with him these days, he had been having a lot of those moments. Azazel lay with his head pressed against the wheel of the car he had rented for the drive-in. Just some minutes before, he was watching the wide screen, a little annoyed at where his car was concerning it, but he supposed he was just going to have to live with it. Though the longer he sat that, the more he realized, he actually, fucking hated going to drive-ins. Too tired to do anything about it at that moment, he felt himself starting to lull into sleep as things started picking up on the screen.

The next thing he knew, he was dreaming of something far better than what was going on on the screen. Or maybe it was worse, either way, as he drifted farther off to sleep, his breathing picked up, minutes later, a layer of sweat started to form. Twitching here and there, he was having quite an episode, whatever he was dreaming. That was until something suddenly interrupted, perhaps, in his mind, a new horror, at that. Jerking up suddenly, he gasped, his hands pushed against the horn, sounding it off in the drive-in. Panting, he turned to look at Bandit as she was talking. Narrowing his eyes on the her he frowned, “Dammit, Bandit… “ Catching is breath, Azazel rolled down the window a bit, “Pink…dream boat…” Looking confused for a moment, he turned his head, glancing around them before gesturing to the passenger seat.

“Are you planning to crawl over my lap?! Why are you on this side of the car?” He asked in a whispered tone. Then looked toward the screen, yawning at the next question. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head, “I think it's a commercial at the moment, the first murder happened already.” Looking at Bandit as she seemed to bribe him with popcorn, he raised his eyebrows at that, then laughed a bit before mumbling, “Well, unless you're planning to crawl over my lap, you need to go around to the otherside- also, they didn't have candy?”

@withoutmonsterswebecomethem at the weekend of horrors, april 21st after 8PM

Bang, bang, bang, it was a thunderous incantation of her knuckles and a closed fist smacking against the driver's side door of the first familiar face that she had found, waiting for the snoozing driver to stir like a bear from hibernation, and when their eyes caught sight of movement inside, they bent themselves at a damn near ninety-degree angle to get their face as close to the window as they could without squishing their whole-ass cheek up against it and smiled widely, giving another knock for good measure. "Hey! Sleepin' beauty. Ya got room for one more in there? I ran out'a pocket change to spend on one'a these nice rentals and my pink dreamboat's in the shop." No, she wasn't talking about a man, or a woman, or anyone, for that matter — who was going to have the audacity to tie down Bandit Vaddhana, queen of sequins and glitter? — merely her beloved car who owned the two halves of her heart. It was with great disappointment that she found herself a bit crushed by the warbling of the screen and the distorted voices, a picture-in-picture she hadn't paid for appearing, and she pouted her lips. "Did I miss the flick already? Or is this some kind'a commercial break?" she ventured, her eyes wandering in the direction of the silver screen, and making a face. A little rude to interrupt a showgirl's only chance at horror comedy, but if they went back after the fact, she forgave them. "Anyway! I got popcorn with half ya name on it if you'll share the ride."

Every single time

Hence my circle so small

Reminder: you can't kill them in any way that matters.

More awake, he was hearing the way this stranger spoke more clearly. Raising his eyebrows as he more appropriately placed it, even in the awkward way the other had said things, he stuck his tongue into his upper lip slightly, thinking. Turning his head away, his nose curled, and he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth gently next. French. Great.

Though he could suppose it had nothing to do with that at all, not even remotely. But it was more amusing to him - No. He had to be serious. He was a grown man, his mind had to think about serious stuff. Business stuff. Stocks. Writing Checks. Doing taxes! WORK!! He couldn't be silly. That's what the medicine was supposed to help him grow out of, growing up. Closing his right hand into a fist, he was thankful he knew what his 'problem' was, in the end. ADHD. Not that most around him understood growing up. Forcing him to rewrite his code.

“Ah.” At her question, he was pulled from whatever train of thought he was in at the moment to remain stoic, and not give in to the amusement that tempted him in these thoughts. Turning his head, scrunched his face a bit, “Yeah. Sure. I think so?” He stared toward the rest, “The dye they use could still be pretty nasty for the fabric, though.” Not that he would know. Azazel's jaw tightened a moment as she went on. It sounded like she was spoiled. His mother wouldn't have been so inclined to just immediately replace things that got ruined, if she ever desired to or not, he and his siblings just had to live with it. Which, he supposed, was probably why he took care of his clothing, “I hope she doesn't.” He whispered inaudibly under his breath.

Though his icy-ness thawed somewhat at Simone's next comment. Closing his eyes, his mind flashed back to when he fell from a significantly high branch back at his childhood home. Everything went black after a small moment of pain. Then, waking up to his mother staring at him, tears of joy brimming in her eyes as she moved to cuddle him- Azazel let out a breath, opening his eyes and looking toward Simone, “Let them look. I'm not their concern.” Shrugging then. Though it did not escape his mind to wonder that, if anyone were watching him sleep, it would be odd. Odd enough to be concerned by it, but not scared. Or, perhaps, scared, and annoyed to the point he might act out badly about it.

But that was just the exhaustion talking, bringing his left hand up, he ran it over his head, annoyed by how short his hair suddenly was lately. Reminding him of things he just wanted to forget. Entirely. Moving his hand away from his head, he laughs under his breath at her comment, “Vineyards.” He repeated, taking note, assuming she may have done something involving one, “They can get pretty nasty, especially with the shit they can transfer these days.” Especially here lately, people were quite terrified of the bugs. But Azazel enjoyed bugs, so he wasn't too put off.

At the comment of his either being fearless or stupid, his right eyebrow twitched as he remembered instances of people calling him stupid, or worse. Till he became a great way to cheat on homework, of course, for a price, “Maybe I'm too confident.” He grinned, brushing the anger off, it was silly to be angry over such an innocent assumption. It wasn't that this stranger knew what was attached to that word, for him. Watching Simone for the moment, he looked toward her offering, then, reaching out, he took it gently from her, inspecting the piece, “Besides, life's not exciting without a bit of stupid in it, you know? Sometimes, you just have to be stupid, to learn-” Tossing the offered piece into his mouth, he chews.

Following her gaze as he chewed, to the other attendants at the events, he makes a face. Though he was sure that was what most people would fear, being robbed, harmed, normal stuff. Things humans did. But humans were just as much monsters as anything the ones they were dressing up as, now, here on these fairgrounds. He swallowed, then nodded his head, “Anyone could be a monster. Anyone here is capable of doing anything more than robbing you of blood. And that's probably not even the worst someone here could be capable of doing-”

Azazel's gaze glazed over for a moment, almost as if he were lost in a memory. But none come into his mind, only a feeling of dread, of something lost. Pain. Emotional distress. Blinking it away, he forced on a smile, “But it's too early for the real monsters who would do that, or anything worse, to be out. Just make sure you're home before the streetlights come on.”

IF HER (UNWILLING?) COMPANION WAS ANNOYED WITH HER intrusion, it went unnoticed by Simone, who had never been one that was very keen on paying close attention to the comfortability of others around her. She never went out of her way to disturb others, that would only be cruel, but she also didn't spend much of her mind on the ease of others, either, a characteristic that had been instilled upon her by two doting parents who taught her that the world revolved around her herself rather than the sun. As a bit of bright red icing dripped from her hand to her skirt, her lips turned down and a sigh heaved from her mouth at their accurate commentary. "It is good that it is only made of sugar, correct?" It was a poorly phrased, and made, joke at the vampires rumored to be lurking around that the French one made no waste of effort to poke fun at, but the minor jest displayed on her face was quickly replaced back with disdain. "I hope my mother can get me another skirt like this." As much as she adored her designer clothes, it was the ones gifted by her mother that she cherished the most and the one she currently adorned was of that group. "You could wake to someone staring at you. That could be scarier than many other, no?" Though, he was clearly not wrong about it being impossible for her to fall asleep in such a situation; she was practically the princess that could have slumber disturbed by a simple pea, the way she chose to sleep in complete darkness with only a white noise machine. Taking a bite of the cookie, her eyebrows scrunched with interest at the passionate opinion, mostly as she didn't have much of one herself. "Mosquitos may be just as scary. They were no good on the vineyards." Breaking off a piece of the generously sized cookie, she offered a bloody tooth, that was far from the chunk she had bitten out of, to the other, almost as an apology for the interrupted nap. "You sound quite fearless...or stupide." Her eyes trailed to some of those in the crowd dressed as the exact mythical creature. "Not just of those. I would fear someone would rob me of more than blood."

“All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest. It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people. What should I talk about, how should I say it?—I don't know.” -Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human, 1948.

Narrowing his eyes on the other as she excused her waking him up, Azazel clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and then closed his eyes again, adjusting his head on his backpack as he did. Not going back to sleep, that was done with now. Though the sight of seeing someone adorned with cat ears, drawn on whiskers, and a bit of red on her lip was, in thought, amusing, he would tell himself. But as she went on, questioning about vampires, his eyes shot back open.

Sitting up then, he looked at her, then, “You've got red on you.” It was what he said at first before turning his head away, squinting out into the crowd. Lifting his left hand up, he unhooked the sunglasses hanging off his shirt and deftly moved to put them on as he put some time between his comment before answering the vampire question. Azazel pressed the middle finger of his right hand against the nose piece of the glasses, then leaned back in his seat, “I guess, maybe, for you. That it might be. I'm not so sure, for me. Maybe I'm being self-destructive.”

He grinned, then, turning his head back toward her, now ready to reply to what she said about blood suckers, generally vampires. Despite the fact that his skin crawled, he knew they weren't real. But there was something, something swarming inside him, denying this belief in him. Azazel then looked up and, as casually as he was sitting, he spoke, “Vampires aren't real. So unless a big fucking mosquito is making it's rounds in this crowd, or probably a vampire bat-” Pausing, he knocked is head to one side. Though vampire bats weren't technically known to actually suck blood, if he were remembering his studies correctly, “Most I gotta fear there is a bad case of rabies, though, not blood loss.”

WHILE THE ONGOING EVENT HAD CERTAINLY CAUGHT HER INTEREST as she couldn't recall the French countryside she grew up on ever holding one that seemed comparable to a mid-spring horror fest, Simone was partially annoyed that she was forced to wander through crowds that her uppity social standing usually had her avoiding as the places she frequented happened to be expensive just to stand in most of the time. Her clients were not the type to plan an entire trip to Vegas for an event that felt partially reminiscent of Halloween, thus, she had no real reason to peruse around except for her own curiosity as the foreign born had clearly never once celebrated the spooky holiday herself as a child. The simple cat ears on her head and whiskers drawn on to her face atop rosy blush was not melting under the Vegas sun thanks to expensive makeup it was etched on with, but the same sadly couldn't be said for the cookie of a fanged mouth, as the red icing that represented blood was threatening to melt off and onto her hands, much to the travel agent's dismay as she rushed to take a seat on a bench and pull some tissues out of her bag. "Ah, then I do not need to apologize for waking you if you were only resting. I would think it impossible to fall asleep with everything appearing so fantasmagorique. You are not fearful of those that suck blood?" A smile crossed her face, as if amused with her own question.

being a GM is really fun because sometimes you can make your players go through some really traumatic Evangelion bullshit, but other times you can force them to go bowling for no reason