Bleeding Signs (A VTM20 Quest)

Flickering neon, pounding music and thrumming vibration is tonight's full, ecstatic feeling. The punk-metal scream of a band lost to time and obscurity elsewhere in the world is fully engaged here, lifting the crowd from merely energetic to practically animalistic.

Somewhere in the listless rolling wave of sweat and motion, you find yourself encapsulated, rocking to life in-between beats and flashing lights. Of course, that's when she caught your eyes, or more accurately, you caught hers, and the night elevated.

Lured in by sultry sweet smiles and intoxicating features hidden beneath white silk and gold clasped tightly to her vivacious frame. Pale, marbled skin gives her a beauty that is traditionally reserved for ancient goddesses whilst flinty, dark eyes focus all that presence into a razor-honed point.

The stultifying malaise that hasn't left in years suddenly breaks like cheap porcelain, a weight rising off your shoulders that hadn't been noticeable for as far as memory extends. A sort of childish vigour overcomes you that recalls days of joy, unrestrained by what has now become a choking, crushing weight- responsibility to yourself, your colleagues and a thousand other tiny, unimportant gnats that cannot even begin to matter.

You move over with rapid steps, barely kept from a run by some faint recollection of appropriate behaviour. Sitting at the broad VIP lounge with a fresh smile colouring your face, she beats you to speech.

"And so, we meet." Sickly honey comes with every word, a delicate accent that you can't imagine placing but still brings to mind the lilt of the Mediterranean, coiling together with the mildest tilt of her head and falling to one side pitch-black hair, seeming to swallow light. It forces your eyes to trail along the curve of her neck, only to find nothing but temptation past the silken neckline.

"What's that mean?" Listlessly falls from you, your own voice proving a grating, cacophonous noise by comparison. The question is truly meaningless, simply what you could do to fill the damning silence.

"Tonight? Everything." A smile, a beautiful thing that sends spirits rising all across the room spreads across her face. Yours in particular has found its own comfortable spot somewhere between the sky and Heaven. It is gleaming and wide, showcasing teeth that you pay only a moment's attention to.

Leaning across the table, she extends a hand to brush across your face, sparks of excitement passing at the ever-so icy passage of her fingers even as nails push in more forcefully than is strictly comfortable. "I've been observing, waiting for… you."

You? Why do you matter? What could you have done to attract attention from her?
Her eyes drilling deep into you start to whisper the beginnings of a trance, forcing a relaxation that sinks through every inch of your frame. "Sleep, dear, when you awake, this will be a pleasant, kind dream." That command pushes the life out of you, an inescapable need to obey overcoming your every thought, forcing the spirit to be cowed. Eyes blink closed.

The blackness of dreamless rest is pierced through by sensation. Soul-shattering feeling that drifts you further and further away from the waking world. Even as your mind is overcome, the feeling of your life's light burning out builds panic. Panic of the end, a panic of everything you've done amounting to nothing in particular.

Ended in a dark, dreary dream.

The tide that drags you back towards life is painful, throbbing and bright. It drunkenly overtakes you, smothering your mind with its ichorous fog and driving the waking world into bright, shining chaos.

Breath enters your lungs violently, driving you to straighten out immediately and quickly intake your surroundings. Cheap linens slide off you, messy and barely clean in that sort of low, sleazy way only really present in the slum-like motels of downtown. Pushing them off your body, you find yourself naked.

Huh. A stagnant thought, churning to full speed over the course of a long, drawn-out moment. "What the fuck! Where am I!" A masculine, yet high-pitched voice cries out, shredding that thought to nothing. Eyes drifting over to him, you take in generally attractive, masculine features, a face twisted in confusion which is quickly giving way to anger all the while he stands in front of a luxurious chair, pleated with silks and pillows in a presenting way, almost as if he was being offered to you.

Deep inside you, a churning need comes alive. Something primal coiling and preparing you to pounce. Your mouth goes dry, something sharp piercing the top of your tongue somewhere near canine teeth. The pounding of a heart that is not your own clearly audible even across the room draws attention to his naked, unguarded throat and its peculiar throbbing artery just on its side.

As you rise up with a frenetic, animalistic vigour, he stills, a cracked voice coming out, "H-hey, chil-chill out, I'm sorry for shou-" You cut him short with a pounce, pushing him down to the ground as easily as you would a cripple. He struggles to no avail, pushing upwards with every muscle in him. Instinct carries the motion, you wrench his head up, spiking that desperate need to new, unbearable heights as the previously observed artery is now available in dangerous closeness.

With a leisurely pace and cruel intimacy that grants this scene a horrible, twisted aspect, you descend upon his neck. A tongue lapping at the point urges have guided you to, followed up by an animalistic bite, driving fangs you were unaware of into him. His struggles rapidly cease, followed by a limp acceptance and soft groaning noises as liquid joy, absolute pleasure and fulfilment that can't be matched by anything in your memory. The moment lasts for an eternity, nothing but the act of drinking overcoming every conscious thought until absolutely nothing is left. Pulling away with a complete feeling, a deep satiety, sanity blinks back into you, clarifying the room from its vague, blurry mess into something understandable.

You are leaning over a pale, empty-eyed man with two small punctures on the side of his neck, the locked expression of thoughtless passion on his face. Pulling away with a noise that you can't quite describe, you stumble out and away from him, landing directly in front of a full-body mirror.

Staring at it with shuddering horror, what do you see?

[X] A woman fresh out of the years of service owed to the Marine Corps, a decision that has, at least, given you substantial physical rewards even if you still haven't put any of the skills learned to use outside of it. The tracks of blood running down from the glistening fangs now present in your mouth catch your attention, but nowhere near as much as the slit, golden cat's eyes that currently stare back at you.

[X] The comfortable life of a female resident practitioner hasn't given you any real strength and build, but that isn't the topic of note. The dripping blood from your mouth combined with predatory fangs are sending spikes of panic into your heart, panic made ever worse with the subtle ripple of flesh that swallows the blood, rendering your face clean and spotless.

[X] You expect to see your tanned self, work as a farmgirl until very recently forcing the matter even with a high-paying job keeping you inside all day. The blank space in the mirror reflects a bed corner yet is missing you.
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Give me a few moments to make the requisite side-posts, then feel free to vote.

Character: Annabel Blackwell Nature: Architect Clan:???
Player: SV Demeanour: Capitalist Generation:???
Chronicle: Bleeding Signs Concept: Dark Farmgirl Sire:???

Attributes
Strength: *** Charisma:*** Perception:***
Dexterity:** Manipulation:**** Intelligence:**
Stamina:*** Appearance:*** Wits:***
Talents ------------- Skills ------------- Knowledges
Alertness*------------- Animal Ken***------------- Academics ***
Athletics*** ------------- Firearms** ------------- Computer
Brawl* ------------- Larceny ------------- Investigation *
Awareness------------- Crafts ------------- Law**
Empathy** ------------- Etiquette ** ------------- Linguistics
Expression**------------- Melee ------------- Medicine
Intimidation**------------- Performance ------------- Occult
Leadership** ------------- Drive* ------------- Politics*
Streetwise ------------- Stealth ------------- Finance **
Subterfuge*------------- Survival* ------------- Science

Disciplines ----------------------------------------------------------Virtues
Dominate *** ----------------------------------------------------- Conscience **
Obtenebration --------------------------------------------------- Self-Control ***
Potence ---------------------------------------------------------- Courage *****
Backgrounds ---------------------------------------------------------- Willpower
Resources 3 ---------------------------------------------------------- *****
Domain 5 ---------------------------------------------------------- Temporary Willpower ****

Blood Pool
7/???
Blood Per Turn ??? ----------------------------- Humanity *****

Dominate 1
Command: Give a short, one-word command to a subject which cannot actively endanger their life or unlife. Manipulation+Intimidation at difficulty of targets temporary willpower rating.

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