thank god for the internet [open]

[Atratus]

Anna Maria Redo

Being a freelance artist was tricky at first, especially given that as a vampire it wasn't wise for her to attend any art galleries or anything. She started off posting fliers around town in the dead of night, but as her cellphone remained silent and her art remained unbought and collecting rapidly, she had to search for alternatives. She started with back alley deals that were sketchy at the best of times. She later found underground markets where she would get hit on constantly by strange men. She sold enough to get by, but the discovery of Ebay and Craigslist, among other advertising websites, had made things vastly easier.


Now she just had to take a picture of whatever painting, sculpture, or tapestry she made, slap it on the internet and wait for replies. She pulled in a decent prophet, too. She had no trouble paying her bills or buyign herself luxuries. She had a flatscreen TV, an xBox, countless video games and BLu-Ray DVDs, and beautiful furniture. She didn't even mind letting complete strangers into her home. If they tried anything, which few people actually did, she pulled a knife out of her thick leather combat boot and ushered them politely from her studio.


She drummed her ivory fingers, her nails painted an elegant shade of crimson with black tips, on her mahogany table. Her pale chin rested in her pale hand as her eyes traced the sculpture that rested on the table. She was fond of it, but not fond enough to add it to her own personal collection. She wondered, as she often did, what sort of person would buy it for $350. She glanced at the clock. 7:30. Half an hour late, probably a no-show. She got those from time to time, so she was used to it. It had been a while since she had fed though, which made her more irritable than usual. She huffed a sigh and shoved back from the table, causing the chair to scrape loudly on the hardwood floor.

[Hunter]

Oh yeah. He was the man. He was so fucking smart. Getting access to the internet had been a little tricky, itself, since the cemetery wasn't exactly set up for wi-fi (he'd never appreciated libraries so much as now), but everything else would be a smooth ride from there. He was brilliant for thinking of this. Find an ad on the internet for someone looking to sell something out of their home, promise to show up after dark -- dark always came so early in the winter, which was convenient -- and bam, get himself invited into a human home.

Unless they were vampire hunters (and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of any of those in this town) humans typically didn't have much in the way of defense on them, relying on the protection spells of their dominions to keep them safe. And normally, that worked. Normally, the only humans he could prey on were those foolish to go wandering around late at night, and no one was foolish enough to accept a stranger's requests to come in without a good reason. It was a beautiful thing when a human provided him with one such reason.

His biggest fear, throughout the whole process, was that he wouldn't get a response back or would be declined because she'd have sold the whatever-it-was to someone else already, but those fears had all been resolved a good time ago, and in their place now was only brash, boundless confidence and a set of saliva glands ready for an easy meal.

Elijah Sinclair showed up looking as crisp and classy as he could manage, in a collared shirt and slacks, and had even bothered to comb his hair, although there was not much to be done about the stubble. Arriving on her doorstep, he knocked on the door and smiled to himself, still smug over his accomplishment as he rocked back and forth on his heels and called out in a smooth, crooning voice, "May I come in?"

[Atratus]

She had just pulled on her red silk pajama pants and a white tank top when she heard the knock. "Fucking brilliant," she groaned. Of course he would show up as soon as she gave up and got ready for bed. Well, for four hours of Netflix and then bed at least. Still, money was money and she didn't have a single fuck to give about what this guy thought of her nightwear. He was late anyways. She slipped a black cashmere sweater over her tank top to cover herself a little bit, in case this guy was a complete creep. People staring at her chest tended to piss her off. 

She trudged to the door, her bare feet patting softly against the warm wood. She looked out the peephole just to be sure. Yep, definitely the guy from the ad. No mistaking that jaw. She yanked open the door (it tended to stick a little when it hadn't been opened in a while, and it usually hadn't) and greeted him with a carefully close-lipped smile. "Hello, sir. Come on in," she urged with perfect false sincerity, without really looking at him in the eyes let alone reaching out to shake his hand. Buy my shit and get the fuck out, she thought bitterly. Clients tended to come back and buy more of her work when they thought she was a nice person.

She walked quietly over to the table. Her nearly silent walk was a learned habit. Since she wasn't one to try to put forth the effort to get invited inside someone's home, she tended to stalk her victims at night in the streets. It was simple. Vampires required blood. Blood required hunting. Hunting required silence. "I have it right here for you, all ready to go. Will you be paying with cash or check?" she asked with her back to him, wrapping the small sculpture in a few layers of newspaper and setting it inside a shoebox. 

The goods all packed up and ready, she turned to hand it to him and got the first actual glance at his face unmarred by the peephole. Christ, he was pale. He was paler than she was. Oh, shit. She wasn't sure, couldn't be sure without his confirmation, but her gut told her this guy was one of her kind. She tried to not have the recognition show on her face. Sometimes vampires were friendly with each other, sometimes they weren't. She wasn't about to take the risk. Can I get you anything to drink?" she offered, her voice steady as a rock until the end when it caught nearly imperceptibly. She then realized, if he was a vampire, the irony of her question and a small chuckle bubbled out of her lips before she could stop it. She quickly pressed her lips together, praying her fangs had not poked out. "Or a snack maybe?"

[Hunter]

Soon after she'd opened the door, the man's smile faded, sinking into a far more solemn look as he sized her up with narrowed eyes. If he'd been paying attention earlier, he would have noticed something was off, and there was no way not to notice it now. Her blood smelled faint and tainted, no heartbeat, hardly a trace of body heat
coming from her -- this was not the helpless damsel he'd been expecting. The red silk pajamas were a nice touch, though. At least she was easy on the eyes.

He took a while to answer her, looking her up and down and pacing around her in a circle, letting the silence draw out uncomfortably long. "Unfortunately, no," he answered, curling his lip and speaking with a trace of venom in his voice, as if it were her fault for being dead.

Vampires did, technically, have blood in their veins, but in Elijah's opinion it wasn't worthwhile to drink from -- it provided no nourishment and didn't have the same taste as something more... fresh.

He stopped and faced her, his shoulders tense, his fingers tracing along the inside of his palms as he stared at her. It was hard to tell a vampire's age, but she didn't look like a fledgeling. She'd got some mighty nice digs for herself here -- a little stuffy for his taste, but hardly the work of someone still going through the adjustment phase.

"How long have you been here?" he demanded, letting his hands fall to his sides. More accurately, how long had she been slinking about this town without him knowing?

Elijah was highly territorial, as vampires went, and he bristled at the thought of anyone taking up residence here without his say-so. Living things could come and go as they pleased, of course, but vampires were competing predators and were on his watchlist. He didn't know this one, didn't know anything about her, and she had another thing coming if she thought she could just move in, set up shop, and crown herself queen of this town. If she was going to start feeding from the same pastures as him, he'd wanted to be on his terms.

[Atratus]

If she had a normal heartbeat, it would have been pounding. He recognized her. He knew. There was no going back. She tried to steel her nerves and collect her thoughts, but more than anything she tried to come to terms with the fact that tonight might very well be the night she died, again. 

She still didn't like his attitude, though. She curled her lip slightly, ever so slightly. She didn't want to start a fight she would inevitably lose. This guy was huge, and she was small. She could overpower a human of his size, but not him. No, way. "Longer than you." She had no idea, of course. He could be 50 for all she knew. Her voice gave none of that away, however. 

Anna walked about the room casually, as if nothing was wrong. In truth, she was putting herself as far away as possible from him while maintaining a straight shot for the window, as the door was blocked by him. If it came to fight or flight, she would run. She had plenty of money in her bank account and plenty of darkness to find somewhere new. She wasn't going to die tonight.

"You're pretty clever, you know. Using Craigslist to get yourself invited to a human house." She spat human like a cussword, but she meant what she said. It really was smart. Genius, even. So simple, yet so efficient. Three clicks and a paragraph and you were in. "Surprise, surprise. Just another creature of the night trying to make a living." She gestured to the various pieces of art around her, some completed, some not. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "And trying to be left alone," she added a little softer, her eyes unfocusing for a split second before snapping to meet his, narrowed.

"Who are you? I doubt you're Dale Edlridge, husband to Carla and father of Nick and Lizzie." If this guy had come here to murder her, why would he use a real profile? "And, more importantly, why the fuck are you still in my house?"

[Hunter]

Elijah's eyebrows furrowed at her flippant response. Longer than him? Oh, he very much doubted that. She was just being cocky with him, the little bitch. He took a few slow, carefully-placed steps in pursuit of her with his hands clasped behind his back, not letting her put so much distance between them as she would have liked. If she was just looking to be left alone, as she said, then now wasn't a good time to piss him off with snippy answers.

No, he most certainly was not who he'd claimed to be, though it would be a waste of breath to admit what she already knew. He only smiled at her, showing his fangs.

"You're dead. It's all relative, isn't it?" he asked lightly, shrugging and showing his palms as he came nearer still. Vampires didn't have any right to property. What was she going to do, kick him out? That was hardly a polite way to handle a visitor.

The man tilted his head, grinning at her apparent irritation. "What are you getting all upset for, peach? I don't bite folks who are already dead." No, the way he was looking at her, there were clearly other things running through his mind.

Sure, he had his reasons for staying -- there were a few things he wanted to make very clear to her -- but he had time to kill, and the way she was treating him just made him want to toy with her until she stopped giving him attitude. This was his town. She couldn't tell him what to do, not and expect it to work. And this would be her first lesson in that.

[Atratus]

Intimidation had failed. She wasn't surprised, with someone who was so evidently stronger than she was. Still, sometimes people are all bulk and no nerve. She was mostly nerve. Sure, she could handle herself in a fight, but this wouldn't be a fight if push came to shove: it would be an execution. She switched gears quickly. 

"Look, I don't mean to be rude. I'm just not exactly used to people. Let me introduce myself. I'm Anna. I'm thirty-five years old, but I turned at 17. I've lived in Mossy Hollow my entire life. I keep to myself, I feed only as often as I have to." Her voice was calm and collected, but she did not like the way he was looking at her. She had read somewhere that sometimes the hardest thing for a murderer to hear is the name of their vistim. It humanizes them. Makes them a person instead of a victim.

"I don't want to tell you how to live, and I hope you don't want the same. We've lived here together for a long time and never even realized. How different is it really that you know I exist now?" This guy was clearly aggressive. Competitive. She prayed her logic would appeal to him, but to her it seemed it wasn't the reality of the fact that two vampires (probably more) could coexist peacefully and unawares, but the fact that now he knew she was here, she was nothing but competition. 

She stopped moving away from him, allowed him to approach her. She didn't want to show her fear, give him the satisfaction or the knowledge that he intimidated her. Oh, he did. She hadn't been so scared in a long time, maybe ever. She couldn't show that though. "I'm not an enemy. I'm just a girl who happens to be dead trying to live out the rest of her life in peace and quiet."

[Hunter]

She'd changed tactics. Good. She was still wasting her breath with half the things she said, but he was a considerable bit more amenable to hearing her talk this way than in the tone she'd taken with him a moment before.

Really? Lived in Mossy Hollow all her life? He tilted his head further and looked skeptical. She must be pretty sneaky if she'd escaped his notice all this time -- which might well be true, by the sound of things, if she really meant that about keeping to herself. He let it pass.

The man came to a halt as she made her appeal, chin tilted back as he looked down his nose at her. "Oh--" He leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowed, and assured her with a terse nod, "It's different."

But if she was looking to get in his good graces (or out of his bad ones, at least) she wasn't doing too bad for herself, and he even deigned to return her introduction with one of his own, drawing his arm forward and gesturing with a hand on his chest. "You can call me Elijah." Real name this time. He had no reason to be afraid. "And from now on, you'll kindly stay out of my fucking way, if you please. We don't want anyone to get hurt."

He smiled again, relatively pleased with how this was going, though he would have been a lot more pleased if she hadn't been dead before he got there. "You seem like a well-mannered girl--" He stopped himself, dipped to the side, and spread his arms, correcting himself, "Well, woman--" As he said the word, his gaze flicked over her figure, which she could be grateful was relatively hidden by her sweater. "--so let me give you some tips on how to maintain that peace and quiet you were talking about." He closed the gap between them, put a finger under her chin, and enunciated the words, "Don't ever get between me and a meal."

With that message delivered, he withdrew from her, looked at her again, and, with raised eyebrows, seemed to recognize her clothes as pajamas for the first time since he'd come in, asking, "I'm sorry, were you getting ready for bed...?"

[Atratus]

She did not flinch, much as she wanted to, when he got close. She stared back at him with unblinking eyes. "I stay out of everyone's way. I'm not a threat to you. If you wanted to, you could rip my throat out in five seconds." She bared her fangs. "But you don't get to touch me, ever." She shouldered past him, gaining confidence in the fact that she was not dead yet. 

"I've already told you, I don't intend on getting in your way. Unlike you, I'm not a testosterone-fueled power-hungry control freak." She had always had a great read on people, this guy was easier than reading a pamphlet. "I stay in my apartment until I start to hallucinate from hunger, then I paint some pictures, make some sculptures, and eventually head to the warehouses to feed on some pathetic junkie."

It was a boring life, but she wasn't evil. She didn't like killing people, and when she had to she targeted people who reminded her of, well... her father. "We don't have to be enemies. Maybe... maybe we could be friends. Partners." She didn't mean romantically. She had no interest in anyone romantically. "Business partners. We could develop a system. I have money, and you don't," she concluded, sizing up his clothes. "You have power, and I don't." The wheels were turning in her head. This close call had been dangerous, and dangerous times called for a change in tactics. This was bound to happen again at some point. Another vampire, one who couldn't be so easily talked down. 

"We could rule this city for blood and money."

[Hunter]

Elijah had to laugh at her term for him. "Testosterone-fueled power-hungry control freak," he repeated, his mouth hanging open at the end in a big incredulous smile. Laughing again, he shook his head and almost closed his eyes. Damn, he hadn't wanted to hurt her before, but--

Oh, and she thought now was a good time to make him an offer, that was rich. He didn't laugh at her that time, though. Elijah crossed his arms and readjusted his head as he looked at her, eyes narrowed. She had money, he had power, that's how she framed it. He didn't betray his thoughts on the offer as he stared at her, running his tongue over the front of his teeth.

Then the other vampire glanced down for a moment, turned around, and started heading toward the door. It was only once he'd reached it that he glanced back at her again and said anything. "I'll drop by another time," he promised. That was all he left her with before he was out the door.