WARNING: This log is rated R for adult situations and violence. If this is not your cup of tea, please do not continue beyond this point.
Dahlia - Basement
It's a basement. A subbasement to be exact. And there hasn't been much done to spruce the place up. The single open room has been set up into a studio of sorts, with a work table and such on one side, along with a couple of refrigerators, and a bed on the other. There's a couch and TV on the side of the basement opposite what looks like a bathroom. It's a place to exist, not to live.
Your phone (or possibly another nearby) rings if you are ICly anywhere near it.
IC: The phone picks up after a couple or three rings, "Chef."
IC: Vivienne, darling. How is my lovely culinary artist? Still the most beautiful gourmand in the colonies, I hope?
IC: You sound as though you're looking for something, my dear. So, what can I do for you?
IC: I just enjoyed a bit of beef steak at one of these SMU frat houses. I never cared for those Methodists, but that one was rather tasty.
IC: Oh. So you need me to help you dispose of a body?
IC: My dear, I would not dream of damaging your pretty nails. Let us just say that those MADD people will have another story to post in the periodicals tomorrow morning. Tragic drunken automotive accident extinguishes sports star, or somesuch rot I imagine. No, no. I would not have lasted two centuries if I could not make a simple body disappear!
IC: So you called, just to see how I was doing? I must say I'm flattered. But I'm well, thank you. Emre and I just finished working on a new dish. You should try it, the next time you're in. Perhaps it might curb your desire to kill your herd. It really is unseemly, you know.
IC: You are far too young to become prudish, my darling. And yes, here I am, driving away from a most delectable campus meal, when whom but your pretty face should enter my dull mind. We must find the time for one another, lovely girl.
IC: And you are far too old to not recognize the danger in throwing caution to the wind. But enough about that. Are you close by the restaurant? I have the most delicious wine just waiting to be tapped.
IC: I am fairly certain it shant take me too long to bring this horseless carriage into Deep Ellum. Have your man know to expect me within the half-hour.
IC: He will be waiting to escort you into the kitchen. I will see you when you arrive.
IC: Capital, capital. Sounds delightful, my darling.
IC: The phone call ends.
—-
Approximately twenty-five minutes has passed since the telephone call.
—-
Emre, more often than not, is the maitre d' on duty, when guests arrive in the evenings. He's second only to Vivienne in his devotion to the business, and the Chef that runs it. Though he's currently engaged in discussing upcoming seating arrangements with the lead waiter, it's unlike he would miss Darcy's arrival. He's known the pair well and long enough to know that the only one equipped to deal with the Englishman is Chef.
—-
Having left his automobile in the capable hands of a valet, Darcy has since breezed past the door security and approaches the Turk with his easy, effortless gait. "Fine night, yes?" he remarks, off-handedly, to the man in Turkish. Darcy's eyes only consider the waiter for a moment before they move back toward Emre. "I do believe she is expecting me, old boy." A slight coldness, even for vampiric standards, is always present in Darcy when he addresses Emre. The uncertain relationship of the vampire with Vivienne is not something the Englishman is interested in contemplating.
—-
"Fine and fair, Pemberly." It's not that Emre means to be rude to Darcy. Well, okay, it actually does mean exactly that, though he manages to make it sound smooth and fair. The Turk, not unlike the men of the age in which he was raised, is exceedingly careful and jealous, in so far as it concerns protecting Vivienne, for all that she neither needs nor wants the concern. Though, more than likely, it flatters her, as everything about the Turk seems to. Face of Dahlia indeed. And certainly there's no love lost for the Englishman who seems to have his Chef's affections. "She instructed that you be brought back through the kitchen." That said, the man turns way from the station, signaling for the waiter to take his place, as he starts off towards the kitchen proper.
—-
"Charmed, old chap," Darcy answers. He follows Emre through the labyrinth of lavishly appointed tables, moving with natural grace past the gluttonous vampiric customers, toward the kitchens with their secretive contents and operations (at least to strangers). "Any troubles with the humans? I shant fancy all of them are too pleased at such a brazen display of our presence in their neighbourhood." Small talk with Emre? It cannot hope to end too well, not with both men having some sort of stiffness toward one another.
—-
"None that we have not been able to handle. Being so close to the Hotel seems to keep the majority of the cattle away. Even their small minds realize that causing trouble so close to a bastion of our kind is exceedingly stupid. Those who fail to learn the lesson feel Chef's wrath." It doesn't take terribly long, for the journey to be made, and the kitchen to be unlocked. "Chef is waiting for you below."
—-
"Right, right. See you next at Byzantium," Darcy remarks, leaving Emre for the kitchen. As he moves past the other vampires, glancing about at the variously assorted dishes, the intoxicating smell makes his fangs unexpectantly spring forth within his mouth. Dahlia is, if nothing else, a vampiric gourmand's dream! "Vivienne, my darling, are you hiding in your cellar?" The words are whimsically said, in a tone that not one of her employees would probably ever expect to use toward their employer if they wanted to keep both of their fangs! Darcy is an exception and, after much effort, finds his way into the sub-basement where he greets Vivienne: "Stunning, my dear. You are always a vision that brings blood to my eyes!"
—-
Emre seems to think better of replying, certainly with the kitchen staff now looking on to see the new arrival. Instead, he simply relocks the door behind the Englishman and returns to his station, leaving Darcy to wander his way down to Vivi's basement. And for once, the woman actually seems to be wearing clothing that is neither white nor herringbone. A simple long sleeved white sleeping gown, many layered and floating, much as a gentlewoman of her age might have. It seems nostalgia is in the air. As is the scent of blood and aged oak. A barrel has been moved into what might be considered the kitchen area, if it had any appliances, a hammer and the tap set on the table beside it, "I am always in my cellar, Darcy." She does, after all, seem to live here, despite having the means to live somewhere more…suitable. "If you continue to flatter me, I will not believe you when you tell me there's nothing you wish from me, save my continued good health."
—-
"Qui se exaltat humilabitur et qui se humiliat," Darcy replies. He walks directly toward Vivienne and, without hesitation, leans forward to kiss the woman. "It reminds me of this wine cellar in a Burgundian Chateau I decided to nest in for two-decades. The poor Baron and his descendants went ruinous, if I recall, on the account of their labourers dying from the pox - at least that is what they called it, but, as you know, I have always had a ravenous appetite." A mirthful gleam washes through his brown eyes with the last comment. "And I most certainly do wish you good health and long life, my darling. Like these oaken barrels, you most certainly improve with age."
—-
"And that is why I do not pretend to be more than what I am. A simple chef." Long years and longer associations have given over whatever fear Vivienne might have had of one such as Darcy, and so the kiss is accepted, returned, allowed to linger, before she steps to indicate the cask. "Well, he deserved to see his family ruined. You did the surrounding countryside a great favour when you rid the world of his issue. But will you do me the honor? I have the glasses already prepared." Glasses she moves to retrieve, "And I wish the same for you, dear man. Though age has done nothing to improve you." And yet, despite the words, which might sound, to the untutored ear, harsh, there's an indulgent light in Vivienne's eyes.
—-
Darcy laughs. He takes the comment as incredibly witty and, reaching out to take hold of her arm, moves to follow alongside Vivienne to the glasses. "Yes, I am as dissipated as ever, I wager," the vampire answers. "But to entirely mainstream and tow the party line? I say, such tedious stuff is unlikely to make immortality any more enjoyable than a tedious continuation of years without end. And why let on to these cattle whom we truly are if it is not necessary, yes?" As Darcy awaits for Vivienne to offer the glass, he suddenly and abruptly asks, "Do you like Mexican? I might have a couple new dishes for your menu if you have the inkling to prepare a bit of exotic fare."
—-
"But it has never been about mainstreaming. At least not to my mind," Vivienne offers, as she walks, arm in arm, leaning slightly into Darcy's shoulder, "It has always been about subtlety. We can still live the lives we once did, but we must now exercise our creativity. I have not missed the signs of your nightly indulgences around the city, Darcy, and I fear you will anger those who do not enjoy your company as much as I do." A flash of something, at Darcy's question, "I have certainly enjoyed the flavour. But I would and always do welcome suggestions to the menu from you."
—-
"Strong, ferocious, treacherous, and criminal," Darcy suggests. "There is a small collection of blackguards that think they can cross me - as you know, I always have my sources - but they shall find they barked at the wrong bear." He savours the glass with the appreciation of a connoisseur. "You never cease to amaze me, my darling. This is exquisite!" More of the dark liquid is consumed. As Vivienne leans against him, he also moves closer to her and outstretches his free arm around her waist. The vampire's interests are pretty obvious. "You know me too well, my dear. Escapades, to be sure. Whilst I am sure you recognise my hand, I will strive to make it invisible for others. But such talk is truly a waste of a perfectly good vintage and, I must say, that ravishing chemise is starting to make its mark upon me."
—-
"Even the smallest dogs can have a vicious bite, as you well know. I am not so inured to you yet that I would not miss you if you left me again." Neither Darcy nor Vivienne are terribly old, not by the standards of the Old World vampires from whose stock they came, though they might seem so to the younger vampires of the new world, but neither of so old yet that they miss the passing of the years, "You were gone from me far too long. But, for the compliment to my wine, I will forgive you." She does not, however, sample the blood herself, rather, allowing Darcy to drink a bit more than his fill. Clearly, the woman intends to feed from the vein. Certainly the flash of response in her features is indication enough of that. Or perhaps the hand, that having slipped free of his embrace, reaches back to take his free hand, "I do recall how pleased you were with it, the night you bought it for me." Bought being a very loose term. And all of the blood did wash off. "Refill the glass, if you like, before we go."
—- INSERT TASTEFUL CUT TO COMMERCIAL
Completely nude, Darcy is lounging on Vivienne's bed underneath the sheets. He keeps toying with strands of her hair, rolling it between his fingers, as he leans against one of the pillows. "Now I recall the real highlight of traveling through India, my sweet. It was not the cuisine, but the cook."
—-
A single fingertip rests on Darcy's throat, idly tracing the mark of her fangs on his pale porcelain skin. Certainly the vampire could have healed them a moment after Vivienne withdrew her fangs, and likely will find all traces of them gone from his flesh at next nightfall, but he still recalls how much she enjoyed seeing the marks of her handiwork. In her day to day life, it might seem that the monster that she was, all those years ago has long since left her, but the few who know how to look still see them, even so well hidden as they are. "We were both chefs then, love."
—-
The bite marks are pure vanity; akin to a love peck, Darcy will likely have them vanish once they decide to emerge from their subterranean reverie. "What do you say we go hunting, my darling? Dinner and a show, perhaps?" He is extremely relaxed. Being the sort of person who jumps between amusements, Darcy savours the fulfillment of this excitation; at least, until he will eventually grow tired of past glories, and seek to renew his passions.
—-
"We would have to travel down below the border. There are many watchful eyes roaming this city, and the state besides. And I…cannot afford to bring a dark light on my business." Oh, but the trials and tribulations of being an honest businesswoman, "I have heard that the stock is exceptional along the great river." Vivienne allows her fingertip to slip away, as she slides out of bed, moving on silent feet towards her dresser, likely to seek something appropriate to wear.
—-
"You have visited these other Americas?" asks Darcy. "I have not travelled to the Spanish colonies since I have been on this continent. To think: over two centuries of existence, and the world still holds secrets from me. Perhaps I prefer it this way …" He looks disappointed as she rises out of the bed, and moves toward her dresser. Darcy rolls forward on the bed, resting on his elbows, as his brown eyes attentively watch Vivienne. "Allez, dire des niaiseries!"
—-
"I made it a point to, when I first came onto the continent. The first decade that i was here, I traveled, looking for stock, for recipes. For new ideas. America prides itself on being at the forefront of innovation. But some of that I saw in Chile and Peru would put most american chefs to shame." Vivienne moves easily, languidly, as she chooses a light shift, making the most of the lighting and the mirror to allow you to watch her go through the steps, "Our lives would be rather dull, if we no longer had mystery to keep our interest."
—-
Darcy's brown eyes continue to watch Vivienne's movement. "To be sure, my dear," he says, "I shan't want it another way." The vampire rolls over, and sits up on the edge of the bed. He reaches for his pair of slacks, neatly folded on a chair. "I suppose you are headed back to your child, the restaurant?" Darcy asks. "You know, I am certain we could find much more enjoyable diversions than work."
—-
"Only if you intended to recind your invitation and go hunting alone, Darcy." In many ways, yes, Dahlia is Vivienne's child. But even the most doting mother must have a night or two off from minding. "Emre knows my will. He will make certain that all continues on as it should." The dresser opens, and Vivienne retrieves two dresses, both silk sheaths, her preferred style, one deep red, the colour just after it begins to clot, and the other a rich, vibrant royal purple, "Which colour suits you tonight, Darcy?"
—-
"Purple is a majestic colour," Darcy answers, pointing toward the second dress. "It is most definitely accurate what the French say: that it is much more stimulating to watch a woman dress." As for him? While Vivienne was reaching for the two garments, Darcy has become fully attired. In his bespoken suit, he is once more cuts a crisp and polished silhouette.
—-
And certainly, Vivienne has made a study of dressing to Darcy's liking. "Then I shall wear the purple." The sheath is slipped on, before she moves to pin up her hair, to finish her makeup, using only a hint of colour and gloss for her lips. The years since she was removed from the kitchen servant's quarters have not lead her to become a woman who overadorns herself. The final touch is a clip in her hair, a amethyst peacock, patinated with age, a gift from the man now standing waiting for her, purchased not long after they met. "It is a terrible thing that I cannot say no to you, William." Finally, she rises, holding out a hand, "You look as delectable as ever."
—-
"Good enough to eat?" Darcy answers, a wry smile on his lips. The bite-marks on his neck have by now completely vanished. "What do you say we take in the night air, ma charmante?" His arm is extended, the forearm offered, to Vivienne as he gets ready to lead the two of them out of the basement. As he spies the hairpin, Darcy says, "You still have that little bauble I bought for you? I shall have to find another to mark our second meeting. Well, shall we, dearest?"
—-
"Perhaps yes, once more tonight, if we find a suitable morsel." Her hand settles onto Darcy's forearm, as the pair make their way out of the basement, the closest thing Vivienne has to a home, and into the restaurant proper. "I have never had the heart to get rid of it." But tonight there's no simple conversation, no attempt to mingle with the guests. The lift of her chin, and the demeanour of the staff are sign enough that Chef is not available for the evening." Vivienne does pause, as she reaches Emre's station, the blonde woman and the dark-skinned Turn exchanging a wordless nod, before Vivienne continues past. "I feel as though I want a run tonight."
—-
As they pass through the restaurant, Darcy guides Vivienne until they exit through the front doors. A thin grin sweeps across Darcy's lips as he passes Emre, feeling as if he has once more taken a step up on the Turk, but it passes as swiftly as it arrived. "A run?" Darcy asks. "Like physical exercise? You never cease to amuse me, my darling."
—-
Emre's response, to Darcy's grin is as stony an expression as the normally emotive Turk is capable of. But soon enough the pair have passed out of the restaurant, and made their way towards the street. "A run, yes. A good, long chase. Perhaps someone tall, brown hair, dark skinned. Yes, we really must travel down across the border." She does glance over, "Unless you've a mind for tamer pleasures?"
—-
"I have my automobile parked around the corner," Darcy remarks as they pass Vivienne's security. "Do you think we might make it back before morning?"
—-
"Knowing how you drive, I do not believe we will have any trouble." That said, Vivienne seems more than content to allow Darcy to lead the way towards his car, "I seem to recall many a night when we barely found shelter before the coming of the sun, and the evening was the better for it." Danger is quite enticing, or, so it was, in their younger years.
Located 100 miles southwest of San Antonio across the Rio Grande river is the Mexican border city of Piedras Negras. It is the municipal seat of the Northern Region of Coahuila with a population of approximately 300,00 inhabitants with the municipio of Pideras Negras home to 143,915 people. The climate of the area is semi-arid and swelteringly hot. Originally founded in 1849, Piedras Negras is named after the coal deposits located in the area; and the municipio operates two coal-fired power plants 30 miles south of the area. While the city is relatively small, with many of the associated problems accompanying a town on the edge of the Mexico-United States border, it is still a major commercial route and offers many opportunities for business and excitement.
Having glamoured the Mexican border official into allowing them to pass across the river without passports, Darcy wheels his BMW through the paved city streets of Piedras Negras. It is late at night, and the oppressingly hot daytime temperature of 104 degrees Fahrenheit has "cooled" to a tolerable 90 degrees at the moment. People still mill about the streets in small groups, and many of the bars and restaurants are still open even at this late hour.
"Welcome to the Spanish colonies, my darling. I do not know about you, but I could dance the night away. First, the matter at hand, of course: I am sure you are rather pekish, are you not?"
—-
Vivienne has been quiet, for most of the drive, as she tends to be, enjoying the simple pleasures of the good company, and the cooling night outside the open car window. Occasionally a hand lifted to change stations on the radio, as they moved from area to area, but for the most part, it's been a quiet, comfortable drive. Once they arrived at the apparent destination, however, Vivienne's attention shifts, eyes moving from body to body, tracing the car's movement through the streets, "A little. I think I could do with a bite of something…fresh."
—-
"Fresh pastures, my dear. Cattle as far as the eye can see, I suppose. By and by, I say the Americas are still the wildest hunting grounds in the world: unlike Europe, with its officialdom and strictures, here we have no impediment for our enjoyment. Now, how about this little plate?" Darcy asks as he turns the vehicle around a street corner to spot a group of four men walking out of a bar. They pass a bottle of Tequila between themselves, and are roaring with drunken laughter. The attention that Darcy's luxury German sportscar attracts would not be welcome for an ordinary American tourist; however, the pair behind its tinted windows are anything except ordinary.
—-
"I think," Vivienne offers, as the catches sight of the men Darcy's apparently honed in on, "I remember exactly how this worked." A flash of a smile, as the woman sets the game in motion. Ah, the old days, "Let me out just at the corner, would you?" And once the car slows down enough, Vivienne unlocks the door, slipping out, her expression no longer mild, but angry, a string of curses leveled at the man behind the wheel as she slams the door behind her, taking off down the street, heading in the direction of the small drunken group. Ah, young love…or at least the semblance of it. Who wouldn't be interested in a couple having a little tiff.
—-
"This game?" Darcy muses as he watches Vivienne slam the door, and run down the street ahead of the motor vehicle. The ignition is turned off, and he waits a few moments before emerging out of the car himself. "I think we did this act near Calcutta." The smile vanishes once the vampire is out of the vehicle, and he starts to walk after Vivienne as she approaches the group. Loudly, he yells, "Get back in the car, now!"
—-
Vivienne continues down along the street, flouncing to the best of her ability, quickening her pace as she hears Darcy order her back to the car, shifting her direction to approach the men, no tears, but looking decidedly as though she might cry at any moment, "I'm not going anywhere with you, you bastard!" If nothing else, she actually seems to be trying to approach the men to sue them for cover.
—-
Darcy does his best not to laugh; instead, he keeps up the charade as they approach the group of four men who have now taken considerable interest in Vivienne (who would not?), and an instant hostile dislike for Darcy. The vampire nonetheless walks steadily forward, and starts to wave one of his arms in the air. "Get back in the car, you crazy woman!" he repeats.
—-
Vivienne launches herself at the closest of the group, one who actually looks quite a bit like what she ordered earlier, before they left Dahlia. Every inch the affronted woman, looking for a knight in shining…okay, in this neighbourhood, someone at least wearing a shirt. That'll have to do. "Get me out of here," she pleads, in english, though it's unlikely the man has the facility for the language.
—-
The man catches Vivienne, and moves to protect her from Darcy by putting his body in front of the girl. His three friends follow suit, and start to menacingly stalk toward the approaching vampire. One of them speaks English. "Get out of here, man, or we'll mess you up!" he cries out.
—-
Darcy has by now allowed a smile to spread across his face. The expectation is starting to get to him, and the thrill of the hunt is spreading throughout his body. "Who has said his prayers tonight?" Darcy loudly asks, the smile having now turned sinister.
—-
Vivienne, despite having her face tucked into her 'rescuer's shirt, and thank goodness she doesn't actually need to breath, continues to innocently, of course, herd them further down along the street, almost to the alley, not very unlike rustling cattle into the shoot you want them to go into.
—-
With the group secluded, and the men fueled by a mixture of lust, alcohol, bravado, and honour, the situation cannot possibly end well. Bent on chasing Darcy away (and doing God knows what with Vivienne), they decide to make a fatal mistake: the largest of the group, a man with thick black hair and bulging muscles, lunges at Darcy with a swinging hailmaker. But where Darcy's head was one moment is now nothing but air, and the vampire stands a few feet away from his attacker.
—-
"Poor luck, fellow." Bloodlust has entered Darcy's brown eyes; the other three join in to rush at the vampire, following the lead of their burly friend, when something happens which is simply too quick for mortal eyes. One moment the man jumps upon Darcy, and the next he is lying twitching on the ground unable to make any noise except a sick gurgling sound. His windpipe has been completely torn away.
—-
Vivienne, good girl that she is, will leave the three fellows to Darcy. Of course, it's just as much because she does love to see him vent his…baser urges, for all that she lectures him constantly on his reckless nature. But this is not Dallas. It is a completely different world. And, at least for tonight, she's not Chef, but only Vivienne. She, for her part, only clings more tightly to the man she latched on to, turning him just enough so that both she…and he, can see the carnage playing out on the street behind them.
—-
Carnage is an excellently descriptive word for the sight unfolding on these dusty Mexican backalley streets. Only after the first man has fallen down is Darcy revealed in his glory, blood dripping from his mouth and lips and trickling down his chin. His fangs are exposed, menacing, as he glares at the other two men seized by fear. The one on his left, a fat middle-aged man, is brought down in a blur of activity as Darcy lunges forward and sinks his teeth into the man's neck. The man on his right does not waste any time, but turns and runs in terror away from the scene.
—-
The man Vivienne's holding onto seems in a state of equal panic, but with Vivienne's arms around him, and her strength brought to bear, there's nothing he can do but squirm, as she forces him to watch the death of his companions. But she can feel his fear, smell it, until finally, just as the third man runs off, Vivienne looks up. No longer sweet, or demure or even needy. But every inch the mirror of Darcy, fangs exposed, eyes dark with anticipation of the chase. And as she releases the man, just one word, "Run." And, silly man, he actually takes off along the alley, following after the last of his friends.
—-
The fat man is drained dry. Darcy tosses his portly body unceremoniously aside, and it lands with a thick thud in the dusty gutter. His first victim is also dead, but Darcy nonetheless leaps over to finish off what blood is left in his corpse. His face covered in marks of his messy eating, Darcy looks up at Vivienne and laughs. "Look, my sweet, you have your chase!" His fangs sink back within the body of the tall, muscular victim; and Darcy contents himself with finishing off the rest of the man's blood.
—-
"You always know how to show a girl a good time," comes Vivienne's answer, as she allows the pair to get a bit of a lead. It's unlikely she'll lose them. She is not so out of practice as all that. But once Darcy turns to finish the second body, Vivienne spins back around, moving, not vampire speed, since that would miss the whole point of having the men see her coming up behind them, but fast enough. no thought is given to the man she left behind. Darcy will find her when he's finished.
—-
Two corpses are left in the back alleyway when Darcy is finished feeding off the second man. Yet his bloodlust is not yet satiated, not since he has relished in being able to freely enjoy his ravenous appetite. With the bodies left alone, the vampire takes off down the street after Vivienne and her prey. His target is not the man she was originally holding, knowing full well the woman's temper when someone interrupts her fun with a plaything; instead, Darcy moves away with his uncanny speed to follow upon the scent of the other. On the outskirts of town, his hunt starts to take him through narrow and winding streets and alleyways in pursuit of the frantic and terrified Mexican.
—-
Vivienne moves, what, for a vampire, might be seen as clumsily, noise and clatter rising in her wake. But, to the trained eye, it's deliberate. She can smell the fear of the men running ahead of her, the stutter in their heartbeats every time they hear the sound of her pursuit. The outskirts come and go, the men running out into the scrublands, kicking up dust in their wake. But the chase will not last the whole of the night. Despite the freedom, the sheer willfulness of the pursuit, dawn is coming. Still far enough away to allow her to move without fear of the light, but she can feel it, as all vampires do, the weight of the coming sun light chains dragging you down under the water. And so, her pace quickens, and she moves in, dragging down the man she chose at the beginning of the evening, her feeding every bit as vicious and remorseless as the englishman's.
—-
As they sweep out into the desert, Darcy keeps on the heels of the last victim. The sound of his companion's screams as Vivienne overtake him are music to Darcy's ears, and the vampire moves with preternatural speed until he also capture his fleeing prey. The man is seized, held firmly between strong hands, and can only stare up horrified at the English vampire crying, "Madre mio! Maria! Santa Maria!" The Holy Virgin does not materialise to save him, but instead his own cries echo out to join his last friend in the still night air of the desert before sharp fangs rip into his neck. It is a savage and ruthless death.
—-
It seems to take barely a moment, for Vivienne to drain the man she brought down. But then, what is it they say? Time flies when you're having fun. Still, she savours the frantic beating of his heart, the bitterness of fear in his blood, the trembling of his body as he passes over the cusp between life and death. And, once the body begins to cool, she allows the weight of him to fall to the ground, turning to seek out Darcy, to find him in the darkness, to approach on now silent feet.
—-
His final victim's life spent, Darcy drops the body to the desert floor. Both of his arms are lifted above him, and he unleashes a primordial and savage cry of triumph across the open plane. Not very subtle; but what the hell did being quiet matter? With the exception of dawn's distant approach, nothing out in the Mexican scrubland worries or threatens the vampire. So he stands savouring his three kills, bloated on their life's blood, oblivious to Vivienne's approach.
—-
She has not yet reined in her own viciousness, nor made any attempt to clean away the blood streaked across her pale skin, though the fabric of her dress masks most of it. A smile, in answer to the sound of Darcy's revelry, before she settles down close to him, paying no more mind to the now crumpled body on the ground than she does to the rocks and scrub grass around her.
—-
"That was almost as enjoyable as when we met those Dervishes, my darling!" Darcy exclaims. He bends over and takes hold of Vivienne, kissing her deeply. Filled upon the energy of three grown men, Darcy is filled with passion, strength and enthusiasm. "You are the most beautiful hunter. Quelle belle excursion, n'est ce pas?"
—-
"Almost. They had the scent of cinnamon around them." There's just a bit of nostalgia in her tone, light and subtle. The memory of long ago days. Vivienne comes easily into your arms, returning the kiss with equal passion, tasting the blood on your lips, offering the taste of blood on hers, fangs still exposed as the kiss breaks, "Beautiful in your eyes. And I thank you for accompanying me." Lips still red with blood curl into a sensual smile. "But I have not finished yet." Quick, instant, as Vivienne darts in, fangs sinking into your throat, breaking the vein, allowing the blood to flow free, the tip of her tongue to trace the wounds, to gather up the dark fluid, like a ravenous child, licking dripping cream from a cone in the summertime.
—-
What is it about Darcy's blood? Prized by humans and vampires alike, it seems; he loudly exhales as Vivienne plunges her fangs into his neck, and grabs her hair with his free hand as the deep-throated sound gasps in the air. In the middle of the desert, the two corpses are free to indulge in their other passions.
—-
Despite the fact that Darcy has gorged himself in the chase, Vivienne does not take much. She feeds, but not for hunger's sake. Rather she feeds for passion, for the taste, the subtle flavour of the blood that has been somehow transformed from human blood to vampire. The flavour that is as distinct as the man. Blood, no different from wine has its own unique vintages. Each unique to the individual. A final lap to his throat, a long ago chosen signal that he should heal the wound, and Vivienne finds his mouth, now carrying his own flavour on her lips. And somewhere, in all of it, her voice, "We will not make it back before the dawn."
—-
Darcy is about to take Vivienne in the desert, aroused as he feels his blood enter into her body. Aroused and ready to make love, her words suddenly interrupt his passion and bring him back to his senses. He can feel the dawn approaching in the distance. "Not to Dallas. We can reach San Antonio within the hour," he suggests.
—-
"An hour is too long. Can we not rest here?" Vivienne presses forward, the body of the man behind her long since forgotten, as she moves to bear Darcy down to the ground, or at least make the attempt. So very like the desert of long ago, where they spent many a night in the sand and the heat.
—-
Darcy laughs. "And leave a one-hundred thousand dollar sportscar in the middle of that Mexican flea trap? There will be nothing but a frame left of it by tomorrow night." The feel of Vivienne moving against him does much to influence his decision-making. "You want to burrow into the hard desert ground? Filthy girl." A smile spreads across Darcy's face, and he leans forward to passionately kiss Vivienne.
—-
"It is only a car, love. And I doubt you lost any money in the bargain." Of course the whole dead bodies all around it might warn people off, especially when they see the vampire bites, but those are thoughts for different times, "You know me so well." An answering smile, before her lips meet yours, her weight settling against you, her body as perfect a fit to yours as it has ever been.
—-
"A very nice car, my dear," Darcy answers. "Not all of us are artists consumed with a burning desire for our craft. Some of us are patrons and connoisseurs, and we thrive on beautiful things around us. Which is why I am pulled to your gorgeous arms." Protest as he might, Darcy has by now left his vehicle for the birds — or scavengers, or one of the cartels — in favour of Vivienne. Hands pull at her dress as he starts to make love.
