That glass slowly was placed on the bar, her hand still clenching it rather protectively as her eyes lingered around the Catacombs. A new place to her, a new territory that she was rather not familiar with. Her guard was up, not sure what to trust nor who to trust in this new place that she had taken residency in. Her lip slowly was pulled into her mouth, letting her top front teeth pull at the skin, causing it to plump up and swell with the harsh punishment she was doing to the often abused lip. She was often biting her lip, a common habit of this female vampire. It was not out of nerves, but just something she never realize she was doing it till the taste of the iron salty substance that they call blood.

It wasn't till the pierce of her sharp retractable k-9 punctures her lip did she realize she was once again doing her nasty habit. Kicking herself mentally, she licks the puncture mark, trying to get the blood to clot. She did enjoy that taste of the her own blood, sucking on the limb slowly as she closes her eyes. Smiling, feeling the small flow of her blood fall into her mouth, she opens her eyes as she lets her tongue play with it slowly. Taking a deep breath, she turns around, pulling her half empty glass with her as she slowly stood, leaving her place on the stool. Moving to the fire, her lip still lingers in her mouth as she becomes dazed in the motions of the dance of the colors.

(The thoughts of Trinity)

Why does such a dance claim the mind of the living and dead?Is it the soft motion of the dance that intrigued the mind to slip into a state of lost? The color and the motions of the simple fire, so dangerous but so beautifully constructed. Why do you cause the mind to slip into a state of longing and lost? As I am not complaining for the thought is used in my mind, but the question still does provokes my interest and curiosity.

The dance caused her eyes to cloud over, her eyes still linger on the flames in the fire place. A smile on her face as she finally converts her gaze away, looking around at the corpses on the walls.

"Clever."

Her first words where a soft whisper, only lingering around for her ears. A eyebrow raised as she took in more of the hang out of the race of the vampires. A shrug falls to her shoulders, her body turning as she heads back to the bar, taking one glide after another.

She heard another voice, her eyes narrowing as she looks at the male that had just said Elizabeth. A eyebrow raises, her attention directed back to her drink as she sits down, letting her head tip back as she knocks off the rest of her drink. Slamming the glass down, shattering the glass. A smirk falls to her lips as she feels the slivers of the glass dice her skin, embedding themselves deep in her flesh.



Oh how the hurt hits my dead heart so. The blood of my ancestors now spilling on the floor. How the genes that has made me now spilling to the counter. Why does this hurt cause me glee? The spill of blood making my heart leap for joy. Am I so tainted with morbid thoughts that the hurt of myself makes me smile a true smile? Should I be worried? Of course not, I am a vampire, I am the death that all do not want to find. I hold the power to heal, so is it so bad when you hold the power to heal simple wounds?

As if on cue, her wound heals, the glass falling with the rest of the pebbles, but only holding one characteristic that is different, and that is the the red substance that now coats the shreds of glass.

" "Madam, are you alright? Do you need another drink?"

The noble vampire directs her as the shatter of the glass had caught his attention. Her hand raises, waving him off as a simple gesture of she was perfectly fine, satisfied for the moment.

Elizabeth shrugged, her eyes fell back into the fire.
"I knew what this place was" she grew silent for a moment
"I guess I just didn't really know what I was getting into" she turned around and held in her breath for a moment

"You see, My mother wasn't really the strongest person in the world and certainly not the smartest..so she got herself killed a while back, and I have no idea who my father was, but don't worry ..you cant miss who you don't know. Anyway, I guess i came here to look for something more...a protection...and I don't know.... this was the only place i seemed would fit, But I guess I was thinking selfishly and definitely not smart."

The talk between the two caused her to roll her eyes. But then again, her history was her concern. It was ages ago that she had learned to not even trust her own kind, her own family, finding betrayal deep even in the closest members. And lesson one, do not speak of your past so freely with strangers. Being to trusting could be the down fall to even the strongest of vampires.



That is why your mother probably died, trusted to many. The past will catch up with you, and you telling your life to all is what will kill you faster. Foolish one you are, one that trusts to fast, trusts to much. I pray to the gods of hell that they protect you, but even they will not be able to conceal your mouth with your foolish slip of tongue. Maybe a slice and the remove of the organ would keep you safe? But of course not, you have already dug your grave, and now you will lie in it eventually.

The nasty smirk of the cruel vampire lingers on her face, never using words. Her words where what she said in her head, never talking to anyone but herself. She was not a trusting vampire, knowing what could happen in trusting your own kind. She was in a cult for she was born there, holding the key to the future of the group.

What she had saw, the memories of the fights, the kills. All the betrayal that had shown through the walls of her home. You could not trust anyone but yourself, and even that. . . .She shook her head, turning to the one that was Elizabeth, smirking as she whispers to herself.

"Like Mother, Like daughter. Your fate will be the same with the information you are leaking out."

Drezlin ponders what Elizabeth said
he looks back at her, into her eyes. He frowns slightly. It seems like a terrible idea to be honest... That is comparable to a cow walking into a pack of wolves looking for a friend.

Drezlin smiles gently. And add's But I won't be eating you, as I promised. At least not tonight.

He picks up the thoughts from the young vampire at the bar. His fore head creases in distaste.
He slips a tendril of thought into her mind and gently places the message.
I do not know if you are unused to being around others of your kind, or if you are to young in the blood, but I beg you, conceal your thoughts. Focus that intensity inward please.

He turns back to Elizabeth, his eyes drift to the half empty bottle in her hands.
Be careful, your probably going to be drunk enough as it is.

He laughs and looks around, then back to Elizabeth. I am sorry to hear about your family. I advise you to look to the future, and not to let the past ruin the present for you.

Elizabeth looks at the half empty bottle and shrugs and sets it down and pushes it away. "Its not that great anyway"
She turns to look at the young lady at the bar, she notices the annoyed look on her face and tries to study it a bit.

she laughs a bit
"and besides this was the only place for miles, I honestly didnt know what i was stepping into until i already stepped into it. but I think I'll be fine. Im a tough girl."
she looks back into the fire.

Laughing Drezlin stands and stretches a bit. He taes a step towards the fire and warms his hands near it.
Well you are definantly not the average human.

He looks over his shoulder, at the bar. His hand comes up and signals a waiter.
"Yes sir, what can I do for you ?" Another drink please. And get this woman some coffee, or what ever she wants. Something with out alcohol in it.

She looks over to the waiter who now looked at her waiting for her order,
"waters fine"
She looks over at Drezlins hands near the fire
"So why have you decided not to kill me? I mean It could have been an easy target. not hungry??" she looks over at the half empty bottle and frowns in disgust
"was it that?" she pointed to it. "hah, that was pretty gross"

Trinity pushes herself off once more from the bar stool, heading towards the hall that was rather dark. A slender brow raises, wondering what was with the rather dim lighting in the rather dragged out hall. Shrugging, finding it no concern to her, her destination for a room was continued. Her foot steps silent, no sound lingering from her as she moves from the annoyance of the people that had crowded that lounge area.

Her eyes were like neon, the light eerie in the dark shadows. Her posture was rather comfortable, relaxed, and sluggish as she moves into the dark hall. Her hands clenched behind her back, her head rather portioned out, looking dead ahead to where she was going. She was a phantom, a nickname she had gotten in the cult that she was apart of.

(Thoughts of Trinity Blake.)

Disappearing and reappearing, holding the darkness in the palm of my hands.It is my friend, my lover, the only thing that I a low to caress my dead cold skin. The only man that I have aloud to get to my inner self. I have been asked that will such a phantom of the shadows and of the night ever find the other half of her demon soul? The answer is . . . Probably not. Why shall I let another of my kind linger around me? Meet my personal needs when I can hardly trust my own family?

Trust, something valued in all common species. So hard to earn and so easy to break. My cult has proven that to my eyes countless times, holding hatred for the ones that are suppose to hold their back, often getting that one killed in battle or even killing them themselves.

Hurt, a results of holding trust in someone other then yourselves. But then again, you can cause hurt to yourself. And sometimes that hurt is worse then being betrayed. Time is hard, hurt makes that time longer, keeping your feelings bottled up and killing off your inner being.

In time, pain is forgotten, trust is either won back or forgotten as like the pain. But when the pain is of something that has eaten at you till you are no longer mortal in your soul, time still lingers, making the time slowly pass by and cause your mind to shut down, break down to something less then an organ. Your body looses feeling, your emotions blank. You are a walking robot, waiting to die. As I have, as I am.

The thoughts, the inner talk with herself kept her mind concealed, holding her to herself as she continued down the hall that was a dark path in the shadows of death. Passing door by door, not even stopping to take a peak the room, knowing that room will call her, she continued down the long hall. A glimmer of light, a lantern that was nailed to the wall passed a glow on her from, but her mind was still lock on the inner conversation to not even take a look at it. She still stride along, making her way slowly to the destination of her room that she will call hers for her stay here, claiming it to be the daughter of the shadows, the night, and of the torture souls that she will bring to the city she thought was a blessing to have. A shame it will come to the blood bath she was told to bring to the simple town, the romantic and well worship city of Venus Italy.

Suddenly, the phantom stops, having come to the end of her travels, turning on her heels to the right where a single dark wooded door was closed, waiting for her to enter. A smile graced her beautiful dark features as she moved towards it, her hands coming unclasped as she reached out to turn the rather twisted knob to let her into her chambers. Once again, she was at a rather slow past, the time faster then what she was. She was dead, why rush when you will never die at the hands of disease? No point in it, well at least that is what she thought. Coming arms length to the door, her hand clasping the door handle, her room about to reveal to her. A push of her wrist, pushing the door open as the light of the fire gleams the the room that she had let it call her, and she had answer to the cries of her name, finding it what she was looking for, what she demanded, what she needed to survive in this city for the time she will let her presence linger here, causing death to the souls that did not even know that the plague was at its doorstep.

(The Journal of Trinity Blade)

What I was called to, absolutely beautiful. Positively enhanced in my view to what I saw as home. More fancy, more warmth. The walls of red so soothing and romantic for even a cold hearted creature such as I. The floors of a deep wood, stained and well kept, not showing a bit of age to them. The fire place of the rich dark word, holding the fire that warms this room, giving the only light that brings what is in this room to my eyes. The four post bed, holding a canopy of rich white curtains, draping over the bed slowly. The red and white silk bedding, waiting for I to make my home deep beneath the covers. Thank God for the lack of coffins. I may be the undead but not all vampires secure themselves in the uncomfortable box that we are lie to rest in, well, before we emerge once more. A seat by the fire, holding a book shelf of the classics and a small table to have what a mortal would call tea, but to I, I rather hold a warm glass of fresh blood, the body of the mortal laying on the floor with their own heart in their hand. Call me a savage beast, a cold hearted wench. And I would agree.

I am the common vampire, holding the knowledge of being rather careful deep in this dangerous world. Even with the kind that I happen to represent, top of the food chain and more terrifying then that of the wolf man, it is rather dangerous for use. We are well hunted, well wanted for the science that know of us. We are not that secluded, having slayers and as well as some scientists wanting us either dead or to study.

The Ancient days are old, gone and never to be thought of again. We were once never hunted, having been a free ranged animal that roamed and did as we please. But now look at what we were chased into, hiding, being caged and locked up, only required to do things out of night and only in the most darkest of those nights. The reason I still rest in the shadows, sweeping through like the plague and ending the lives of those who I think is worthy of death at that time.

Tale is old as time, holding no value of nothing about the creation. Life as we know it has changed, nothing but a battle of race, gender, and beliefs. A common thing that is now viewed as "normal". But is it so normal that when the eldest of humanity is still fighting a war that is older then Christ himself? Yes, I am talking of the Lycan's and of my kind. The famous war that you have so commonly heard in Underworld. In my taste, the movie is awful, but the points are not far off, except, there is no determine winner in this battle that is still raging on. No real winner, deaths and blood coating the realm of the kind.

I guess the more I think of the times a head, it is going to be nothing of the raging battle of not only the make believe, but of the mortals that have littered the planet. But as time progresses, we shall take what is ours, take the land, the world and show them of the nightmares that the movies only introduce. Time is near to where the Earth will be coated red.

The rich smell of dirt lingers through the room that the girl placed herself in. She heard the pound of the thunderous rain on the road that was above her head, but her eyes never left the book that rested in front of her. Trinity had placed herself comfortably in front of the fire, lounging in the chair as the scratch of her quill mixed in with the crackle of the wood in the hearth.

The silence moved around like a dance of ring-around-the-rosie, causing her tired and rather tense body to finally relax. Her usually hard face falls, letting the sweet nature of what she once was fall to her. Her hand falls to her book, her quill dropping as she closes the leather back diary, closing it as she slumps in her chair, letting the heat warm her cool skin. She had changed when she first entered the room she had found rather breath taking. She was now holding that clothing of simple ordinary mortal pj's, finding the wear comfortable after the long day of hunting and being a killer.

She had must fell asleep for all she remembers is a rap of knuckles on her door. Never did she answer, getting up and heading to the door to open it.

"A letter for you miss."

She nods, motioning the deliver to come in as she moves to grab a tip. She flips it, causing it to land at his feet.

"Thank you madam, a pleasure to serve you."

A waving of her hand, she tosses the letter to her bed, not paying mind to it. Trinity knew who it was from, her father and she had no desire to open it as of now. Her travels where long, her body sore and her eyes barely staying open. Dawn must be approaching for she was falling to being rather tired. Slowly, she turns, looking at the letter before placing her hand on it, putting it on the nightstand before she pulled the sheets back. Settling under them, her head falling to the pillow, her eyes fall close, drifting into a rather deep sleep.

Motioning for a waiter to remove the two bodies, Pagono turns back towards the room. moving to the bar he leans his lithe frame backwards with a slight stretch, the blood lust beginning to sing in his blood after the fight, feeling the need to kill rising, he quietly notes the arrival of another Immortal female.


Turning to the bartender he makes a motion as if asking for a drink, instantly being brought a glass of fresh blood, he smiles tilting the wine goblet to his lips, he savors the taste allowing it to slowly trickle down his throat, this doing nothing to slate the need for blood, beyond a normal hunger. The urge to kill still burning hot within him.

The letter moved through her head, her eyes downcasted upon that yellow parchment. Slowly, her eyes drift up, closing them as she places it beside her. She felt the feelings of hurt of the death of her father. Why was she doing this for her clan that now was nothing but a traitor to her? They had kill him. How could the betrayal happen like this?

Slowly, she stood, moving to the fire as she looks into the flames, arms tucked behind her back as she closes her eyes. Biting her lip, she felt the anger runs deep into her, taking a deep her in a harsh rampage. She had to release it. She had to take over control of herself. Befor she changed her mind, she heads out her door, shutting it and locking it with the key that she had gained with the room.

For once, her footsteps echoed harshly down the hall, her cloak blowing dramatically as she narrows her eyes, her rich blue eyes neon and almost white with the anger of her soul. Hell had broke out in a since of dreed with her. Time to kill, time to pain the town red with the blood of humans.

It was all a blur, her body was now covered in the rich blood of a mortal. Her clothes stained with red, turning a brown as her eyes look down at the now dismembled body of a male, middle aged. His head lie to the side, his frighten green eyes looking up into the rainy skies that clouded over the beautiful city. Her beautiful face coated with red blood, her hair sticking to her the mess that was littered on her face.

Anger falls to her eyes once more, looking at the cuts, the bashes, the organs that were removed from the cavity. She had never let loose like this, completely murdering him. Turning away, she looked up at the moon, finding it blood red as she takes a deep breath, feeling her thirst fall sort for the time being. She decided to leave the body, taking a leap up into the brick building that concealed them from the eyes of others. She was not going to be traced to such a horrific crime. A long breath falls from her once more, her body crawling up the building like spider girl.

Climbing over the ledge, she moves slickly along the buildings, heading back to the taverns to get a good shower in. She was fowl smelling, the discusting smell of the mans blood made her feel like she was a infested human with a STD. She needed to clear herself from the nasty blood.

She had not taken any blood in, only murdering him in the worse fashion. Smirking, proud of herself of the rearrange of his organs. A master piece if you would call it for that it was for her.

Journal of Trinity Blake.

The death of my father had came to me in a shock, the news of it was something that pierced what would be my heart and soul. The untimely death had made me feel once more. And the fact of who did it made the feeling worse. My own brother. He had taken my fathers life with his own hands, knowing that he would become the next leader for I am female.

A female is not to be leader, only marry to a leader. I will still remain the soldier, still fight for the being of my people. But only in the thoughts of my father. I will miss him dearly, knowing that he will never be there for me nor guide me to the destiny that I have been given.

It was just like yesterday, my mother had been killed by the lycans, torn in two with the jaws of the beasts then left on the door step. She had been foolish to wonder outside the path that had been mark for the immortal beings. . . The Vampire. She had wondered out of the shadows, coming into the light and was a target. Do not get me wrong, I miss my mother dearly but she had made her bed and now she is lying in it peacefully.

I was only about 5 years in mortal terms and I was having hard time sleeping. The memories of him coming to me in my room and held me as he whispered in my ears of the stories of my mother, her courage, her beauty, and her violent nature. Each story made me smile, relax, and in his arms I slept. Never did he let me go, never did he leave me through the morning, sleeping with me until the night surfaced. . . . And now he was gone.

His memory will live on through me and the common knowledge that he has told and lead me. The skill that he had taught me personally, something that he had never ever taught my brothers. I will live on as his only daughter, his, as he called me, a perfect image of my mom. And in both respect to the parents that I knew so much about, I will continue to bring blood to the earth, I will lead the pack to bring the world down to the realm of the vampires, and then, I am sorry to say, my eldest brother will parish at my hand for taking the only thing that I had to hold, that made me feel, and made me be a human like I once was. . . . My father.