Andromorphia: Roleplay Vampires, Demons, Angels, Lycans and Fantasy Stories. Fantasy, SciFi & Horror Roleplaying & Writing.

« **Reply #1 on:** 11/10/2008 23:03:16 »

Fantine flipped the woman's hand over deftly, ignoring the pulse of lifeblood at her wrist. She tried to keep the boredom out of her voice as she told another tourist what she wanted to hear. They sat on crates opposite each other, lit by a few candles on the small table and the neon glow of Cici's Cantina from across the way.

I see a man in your future. He is shrouded in shadow, but he will bring great tidings of joy into your life.

I told you he was going to propose!!!!! The woman's friend's voice was loud and shrill on the crowded street.

Fantine idly wondered how either of the women would taste. However, she was a purist - tourists were strictly off limits. No one knew -where- they had been after all.

However, you must be careful. If you trust too much, too soon, you will be broken like the others.

Oh, my, god!!!!! How did you know he asked two other girls to marry him???? The woman was sickeningly belief-stricken.

I know not but what I read in the palm. The rest is writ on your own soul.

The women giggled some more, dropped a twenty into Fantine's hand, and left her little corner of the street. She sat there for a long moment wondering what the night might bring. She was tired of the tourists, hungry, and ready for some fun.

« **Reply #2 on:** 11/11/2008 14:07:37 »

Fantine glanced up at the man before her. He had long hair, brushed out like the fine ladies' hair she had dressed many years ago, fanning out around his pale face. His red eyes gazed at her frostily. She rearranged her dark skirt about her lap and hips and reached up to take his hand as he offered it. When he tried to pull it back, she reached out and snatched it forward with preternatural speed.

Cold, cold, cold.

She noticed the distasteful way that he looked at her and dropped his hand.

You think too much. And you do it loudly. That's what you ought to apologize for. There's no good in apologizing for things that you can't fix anyways.

She stood up gracefully and offered a hand for him to kiss. He was old enough to recognize the gesture.

I'm Fantine. And I do this by choice, not for the money. Now, do you want me to really read your hand or are you going to ramble your way into Cici's for a drink and a bite?

« **Reply #3 on:** 11/11/2008 14:54:59 »

Fantine examined the contrast between his light skin and her dark skin as she took his palm again. There were burn marks on his hand, but he couldn't see the scars on her back. Some things never changed. In some ways, she wished that her scars would show like other people's so that they would know how broken she could be, but that wasn't her lot. Her lot was knowing and showing the way when truly asked.

Alastair is a good strong name. Somewhat outdated but good and strong.

She stroked his hand softly, her coffee colored fingers tracing the lines of plam and scar.

And thank you. Some lights have to shine in the darkness. You could be one if you wanted to, you know?

Fantine didn't make up the rules. She just read them. The Hoo-do was in her blood thanks to her Mama, and she couldn't deny it. So, when the chance came, she used it. Some people liked what she said and some didin't. Some believed and some didn't. It was all the same to her. She just told what she saw.

I'm waiting for someone. If you sit with me, I won't be stuck reading for tourists anymore.

She gestured towards the opposite crate.

You can tell me about your losses if you like, or I can tell you about mine.

Fantine shrugged and a small breeze fluttered out one of the candles on the table. She didn't relight it.

« **Reply #4 on:** 11/11/2008 16:48:36 »

Squig wore his scars like badges of honor. Not that he had much of that. Mostly he had a lot of ideas pertaining to breaking and entering, fraud, acquiring generally difficult things to get for generally dirty and underhanded people. Also, he had a gift for cutting close shaves. You know. Getting out of trouble at the last minute. Or second.

He’d been standing at the bar in Cici’s Cantina for more than an hour, drinking in the atmosphere, sussing out the clientele and backing off shots of Rye. Mostly, though, he was looking for the right opportunity to confront one of the dancers. She was wearing the necklace. A crystal necklace that had once belonged to Fantine’s family, but then was stolen by slavers. Fantine wanted it back and Squig was the man to get it. He was often the man to get things that Fantine wanted, but this item was special. It had to be romanced from the girl’s neck. No blood, no trauma and definitely no taint of Karma. Scrying crystals, of necessity, had to be clean. If he screwed this one up, he was convinced, then his lucrative relationship with Fantine might well go down the drain. Along with his blood.

Tapping his long, dirty fingernails on the bar counter in time with “Pocket Full of Sunshine”, Squig grew increasingly more impatient. He’d seen the girl in an upstairs window and he knew she was performing her primary function. This was a 50-buck-a-lay cathouse and customers seldom outstayed their 15 minute welcome.

Just then, Charlene, with her hair damp, her face sprinkled with sparklies and barely fitting in her short-skirt red dress, floated down the side staircase. She stepped directly to the side of the bar and handed the bartender a folded wad of cash. He took it and slipped it quickly behind the bar, and then poured her a glass of red wine. She smiled sardonically and turned to face the clientele. Suddenly her face beamed with come-hither.

Squig pushed himself away from the bar and walked heavily in her direction. She saw him and instantly frowned.

Why the long face, Sunshine? Ain’t ya glad to see me?

Brusquely, he slipped in beside her and placed a hand on the bar, his arm effectively blocking her from the view of the clientele.

I got a proposition for ya.

Charlene glared at him suspiciously for a second, and then relaxed. She smiled as though she meant it, which she didn’t. Squig glanced down into the cleavage of her breasts, and then up into her eyes. She didn’t like the look of him at that moment. She decided to say nothing.

Yer too good for this place, Char. Look around you. Yer a champagne girl in a backwater beer joint. 50 bucks is an insult for a girl like you, hm?

Charlene narrowed her eyes and asked him what he wanted.

Like I said. I got a proposition for ya. I do you a favor and you do me a favor. Give-n-get, get-n-give. Capiche?

"No, I don’t. What are you getting at, Squig? What have I got that would interest you, anyway."

He lowered his gaze to her knees, then slowly raised his eyes to follow her curves, slowed at the crystal necklace tucked loosely in her cleavage, and then back up to her eyes.

A girl like you should do business at The Marr.

This got her attention. Everyone knew The Marr was an upper-class strip club. The girls there easily made 10 times a week what she made at Cici’s. Working there was like winning the lottery and just as unlikely. It was by invitation only. She’d never been invited.

“Really. You’d be the only one who ever noticed, Squig. The right people haven’t, so here I am.” Nonetheless, a twinkle crossed over her eyes and her heart jumped just a bit. The Marr. Fucking Shangri-La, she thought.

For a small fee, a mere bauble, I can get you an invitation. And you know I can.

Charlene tilted her head and examined his face. It was nearly impossible to read. But if she knew one thing about Squig, it was that he had connections and got things done. Things a lot of people wanted doing.

“Ok. What’s the gimmick.” She could barely believe she was biting on his offer, but the value of it in cathouse-cred alone was worth a gamble. If it had been anyone else making the proposition ...

You go to the Water Street side entrance of the Marr. The one that’s always locked and ain’t got a handle. You knock on the peephole with a quarter. Knock four times. Then wait. Don’t knock again. Wait till you hear a voice asking for the word. That’s the only way to get invited to the party.

Squig had been whispering, his Rye-soaked breath stinging Charlene’s nose, close up and very personal. She could feel his heat. She could almost believe he wasn’t shining her on.

“What’s the word?” Ok, so she really needed to believe him. The Marr could send her stellar, way above the sluts in Cici’s. The mere though got her pulse to racing. What’s the goddam word! she thought. The thought burned in her eyes.

I tell ya what, Char. As much as I’d like a taste of you, I ain’t askin’ for that. Let’s say ...

He lowered his eyes to the crystal necklace. Slowly, he traced a finger along the soft slope of her right breast until it neared the crystal pendant. He nudged his finger under it and lifted it up to eye level.

How about this? It’s almost as pretty as you, Sunshine. I fancy it.

The air between them became tense. She was thinking, he was waiting, she couldn’t believe that was all he wanted, he was banking on her not knowing much about the necklace. She blinked several times.

“What’s the word, Squig. And don’t you be lying to me.” That was it. She had sudden stars in her eyes. She wanted the stars. The necklace was her favorite, but it wasn’t The Marr. Squig slipped a finger along the chain and around to the back of her neck. Just as he unclasped the latch, he leaned closer and whispered into her ear.

This week, the word ... is BIRD.

Smoothly, he snatched the necklace into his hand. Charlene quickly grabbed his hand and turned her head to face him.

“It can’t be that simple.” But there was awe in her voice. Squig smiled and slowly turned toward the front exit.

Some of the most valuable things in the world are just a word away, Sunshine.

He left her standing at the bar, made his way evenly toward the front exit and walked through. Fantine’s gonna owe me for this, he thought. The thought was bold, but his body shivered with just a hint of fear.

« **Reply #5 on:** 11/12/2008 01:04:35 »

Fantine arched a brow at Alastair. He sat at her table by her request and spoke to her about the light as though he knew something that she didn't. It seemed as though he was speaking down to her, and she was not one to be spoken down to - not in her place, not in her town.

A light in the darkness only gets devoured if it allows itself to be. You know that you can be whichever you choose. You simply must choose. Crazed or not, make a choice and stay by it.

With all of her advice done and gone for, she looked at the man through her dark brown eyes. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her shawl hung loose about her shoulders. Her form was hard to make out, but in truth, she appeared to be a late middle aged mulatto. Really, she was quite more, but she let her appearance lie to get things through. Her caramel colored face was covered with small lines.

I'm waiting for Squig. He's supposed to get something for me. Something that was taken a long time back.

She looked Alastair up and down. He just might do she supposed.

Right now, I'm waiting for something that was lost. A necklace of my grandmother's. It's got the crystals in it. Ones needed to see further and more clearly. That's one loss I've been centuries gone without.

She sighed and looked at CiCi's Cantina.

There's my life. Though as a slave that didn't count for much. Now, I've lived centuries with neither friend nor kin. Just people who do things for me out of fear of the Hoo-do. They say I'll never die, that I'll curse a man into debt, that I'll con a man into love. I won't say it hasn't been true, but these days, I just come to my corner and put on my show. And an empty show that it is.

She paused and then stared straight at him.

We're meant to die. That's what makes anything about us matter. And we will die. Just not when we choose, Alastiar. The choice has been taken out of our hands for the most part.

« **Reply #6 on:** 11/12/2008 07:20:28 »

Have you been an evil man all of your life, Alastair?

Fantine glanced sideways at the man. He might be a touch mad, but he was also a touch with the world right now. She had dealt with the living and the dead and the worlds in between. So, she wasn't afraid of this man - just curious. She was gruff, but that was her way. She wasn't used to actually dealing with people as few of them seemed to stick around long enough to be dealt with. It was actually quite nice to sit on the street corner and talk about something that was not the weather.

The crystals? I see many things already - things that have been and are and things that will be. The crystals just make it easier. Besides, that crystal rightly belongs around my neck - not some girl in a 2 bit cat house.

She rubbed at her neck where the crystal would hang. She could feel it there already.

Death is where we all go, Alastair. Even our kind in their own time. So, I guess seeing you brough me to the topic of death. Maybe it was something in my head or maybe it was something in yours.

Hoo-do women were nothing if not non-commital, and Fantine was a Hoo-do woman to her core. She had been for two centuries now.

« **Reply #7 on:** 11/12/2008 11:24:29 »

Passing through the swinging double doors of Cici’s was like walking through a portal into another world. The dank melange of sweat, booze and sex that was the world of Cici’s gave way to the sultry steam, shimmering curtains of streetlight and hungry smells of New Orleans. That world was Squig’s, as far as he was concerned, and it made him feel as at home as a baby suckling its mother’s breast. The doors hadn’t swung closed by the time he was within touching distance of Fantine. He could see she had a client. Or so it seemed. What business she had with Marilyn Manson, or whoever the hell he was, was none of his business. That’s the rule of law in his business. But it didn’t matter if she was taking tea with the goddamn Queen of England. She made it clear, with no room for mistake, that when he got the necklace, she got it too. No delay, no excuses, no fawning around.

He caught her eye and she caught his. Silently, and with no particular expression, he slipped behind her chair. The necklace hadn’t as much as had time to warm up to his hand. He took either end of the chain, the crystals in the pendant dangling in a swinging “V”, and draped it over her neck. She could just go on talking to the monochrome vampire (Squig was no dummy) and ignore him. It didn’t matter one way or the other to Squig. She would pay him well when the time was for paying. Now was the time for the presentation. Proof positive that Squig was still at the top of his game.

With a delicacy that belied Squig’s overall rough-hewn appearance, he dropped the pendant gently on the cup of her neck, then drew the ends of the necklace under her hair at the back. He snapped the latch. The pendant slid like coming home into the valley of her caramel breasts. Satisfaction. That’s what Squig felt at that moment. Big time satisfaction.

It was probably one of his weak points, but Squig remained standing behind Fantine. He needed to soak in the afterglow of this particular caper. Romancing was the cream of all shining. No blood, no trauma and no bad Karma. At least, not so far as the crystal necklace was concerned.

« **Reply #8 on:** 11/12/2008 18:50:07 »

Starting out and finishing are two completely different things.

Fantine was watching the door more than she was Alastair at this point. She could almost feel the crystals slipping into Squig's greasy hand. That little minx that had been wearing them would certainly sell her soul for a better lay job, and the necklace would cost her much less than her soul. Still, it was important that the necklace come to her free of blood and bad karma. Thus, she had called on Squig.

Squig settled the necklace around her neck as soon as he had crossed the street, and she sighed with relief. It was in her grasp again, and she could feel the power coursing in her blood. She could see more strongly now. Alastair burned brightly across from her. He was a bright light in the dark streets of what could be a dismal town.

Thank you.

She replied to Squig without looking at him, her hand reaching up to caress the purple crystal hanging between her breasts. She was not as young as she could have been, as she should have been to truly show off the jewels, but she was not given a choice about when she was turned.

And thank you, Alastair. I hope that they are.

She caressed the stone a moment longer.

Squig, I would like you to meet my new associate Alastair. Alastair, Squig. Squig is the man who knows how to get things done in this town.

She smiled at both men, mortal and immortal. She knew that Squig would recognize Alastair as being immortal as she was. She would leave it to Alastair to see what type of man Squig was. Another candle on the table snuffed out on its own wax. Two more candles burned on the table, and she pulled her shawl closer around her.

« **Reply #9 on:** 11/12/2008 20:04:46 »

Ma’am.

It was the only reply necessary, and even that felt like gushing to Squig. But the moment called for it. He had been taking in the view of what turned out to be Fantine’s new associate. If she approved, then he felt no reason to question the man. He had no reason to distrust Alastair, nor to trust him for that matter. If not for Fantine’s tacit approval, Squig might not have given him a second thought.

There being no reason to be rude, Squig dipped his head slightly while keeping his eyes on Alastair’s.

Any friend of Fantine’s is a friend of mine.

And any enemy is an enemy, he thought.

Squid had not the benefit of hearing any part of their earlier conversation. The latter part didn’t provide much of a clue. Not that it was any of Squig’s business. Sticking to that tenet, of not rubbing his nose into other’s business, was a large part of why his clientele trusted him. That and his uncanny record of success. Yet it was impossible for him to ignore the seemingly incongruous blend of old world and new world vampire in Alastair. The man could walk into a Goth club and disappear. Squig had a passing thought of how much fun it might be to be a fly on the wall when Alastair walked into a few of the other establishments Squig frequented. And yet his bearing and manner, judging at least from the few moments he'd observed him, seemed arcanely cultured. If anything, it made him interesting.

Even so, Squig was keenly aware that Alastair could, if his needs came to it, be a potential client. When it came to people, be they the long dead walking or the waiting to die, he was no particular respecter of persons. The only deviation from that had been Fantine. She could see too much to be played. Learning that tidbit of reality had come at a significant price. It was not lost on him, either, that her sight was also the reason he wasn’t dead. At least once, as far as he knew.

His head was tingling with the thought that he should leave the two associates to discuss whatever they were discussing. It would be the usual thing to do. Something, however, staid the thought and kept him planted just where he was. In no small part, it might have been the scent of Fantine’s perfume. Or it might have been something else.

« **Reply #10 on:** 11/13/2008 03:52:19 »

Fantine would have minded being nosy but for the question that Alastair had asked. He wanted to know what she could see, and she could think of no way better to show him than to see him. In her mind, she made a map of New Orleans on the table before her. She knew that city with all of its twists and turns better than she knew her own palm lines. She reached back and drew the crystal off of her neck. She held it above the mind map of the table and turned her thoughts to Alastair. The crystal began to sway to and fro over the map, along his route. Suddenly, it dropped like a stone, pointing to a certain back alley where nothing good could be happening.

You gave something tonight, Alastair. Now, its wearer is in trouble. She will die soon.

She made no bones about telling the truth. It was simple and easy and true. She didn't know the girl, but Alastair had obviously left something of his with her for a reason. So, she only told him what she thought he needed to know.

Squig, were any of your other clients looking for some amusement tonight?

She asked without turning, knowing Squig wouldn't lie to her. She was a good customer, and she had the Hoo-Do. Sometimes, the Hoo-Do made all the difference.

« **Reply #11 on:** 11/13/2008 12:44:32 »

Squig nodded. This Alastair guy might just be alright, he thought. He slipped a thumb and finger into his jeans watch pocket and pulled out one of his dogeared makeshift cards. He leaned over a bit and extended his arm, offering it to Alastair.

You need somethin' doin', gimme a call. Private number.

Squig, not being much of a deep thinker, had a bad feeling about Fantine’s question. It came naturally out of the previous feeling that arose from her prediction of a woman’s death. And before that, her mention of something Alastair had given the woman. She do that hoo-doo that she do so well, he thought, and not lightly.

Her question was doubly dangerous because it was a question she’d never asked before, and one Squig steadfastly refused to answer when asked. He was no doctor or lawyer, so there was no oversight committee to monitor his confidentiality. The notion was burned into him. Branded on his psyche like water torture.

Conflict. He’d broken a lot of rules, doors, legs and faces in his day. But what she asked crossed the line. She’d never ask that. She never has. I gotta bad feeling about this. He’d heard about lines. Some kind of hoo-doo lines that intersected with things and people. His first thought when he’d heard of them was, Oh, really. But now, his hair was beginning to raise on his arms and he had an uncomfortable feeling. Something, devil knows what, maybe intersected the three of them. The thought gave him the willies. Maybe it intersected four. After all, his next job involved a wayward girl.

Too late to run. Too late to lie. Better tell the truth or yer gonna die.

Yea, I gotta 'nother job needs doing tonight, Ma’am. Matter of a girl being in the wrong place at the right time, knowing too much, and went vay-yay with proof.

Sometimes the best thing, when telling the truth, is not telling all of it. Failing that, it’s telling it in just the right light so the parts you want hidden are in the shadows. Squig knew this and practiced the art. Hell, he could be a master at it. But not then. Not with Fantine so close he could tie her hair in braids. It was like a child staring up at his mother’s face demanding that he tell the truth. Mother’s face told him she’d find out, and it would be very bad if he didn’t tell her. This was something like that. And Squig had handed the keys to the darker recesses of his mind to Fantine, in the form of a crystal necklace. He reckoned he’d best just lay the cards on the table.

Disappeared this afternoon. Big Boss Delaney’s niece, I gather. ‘Sposed to marry some pisser from crosstown competition, if you get my meaning. Boss wants her back. Big payday. Dead or alive.

Still not all the cards. He’d already said too much for his liking. He felt itchy talking, spilling the beans on a private job. But he couldn’t stop. Slippery cream coated the base of his mind and all the details just kept on sliding out his mouth.

It ain’t so much he wants her. She's just a part of the package. He wants what she’s got. Just a book. Very small, leather bound diary of a thing. Bound with a big rubber band. Rumor says it’s full of names and places but I don’t know Jack about any of that. I ain’t paid to know.

It was like a dirty orgasm. He’d get over it.

Ain’t no way these things are related, he thought. His crawling skin suggested otherwise.

« **Reply #12 on:** 11/16/2008 08:02:08 »

Fantine knew she was crossing a line - asking Squig about other clients. She also knew that while he'd soonest not answer, he'd answer her. It was the way that things worked.

Thank you, Squig.

Her voice promised a reward for faithful services and was a promise that what he had done tonight would not go past this table. Another flame on the table blinked out. Then, there was only one.

Alastair... We save her once, we save her a thousand times. She knows too much, and she'll die for it.

Fantine was nothing if not a realist. Big Boss Delany would have his book back and his untrustworthy neice dead. There were no two ways about that.

Now that cloak you gave her... I thought you had a liking for that. I know I'd as soon not see it as some prize on one of Squig's ... associates' backs. If it's not too bloodstained after they beat her to death. Her little lover and his friends are already in motion, but they're already too late.

Fantine picked the crystal up and moved it around her neck, leaving the ends for Squig to clasp. She was no one's gaurdian angel, but she'd sooner see the girl die an easy death than a hard one. Vampires could make loving and dying so good.

« **Reply #13 on:** 11/18/2008 03:57:28 »

The man can mix an insult with a complement like licking icing off a cake, Squig thought. Suddenly, Squig wasn’t so sure he wanted to do business with a guy who saw him as a youngling. His youngling at that. He guessed that it took all kinds when it came to vampires. They were, on balance, an arrogant and selfish lot. At least the several he’d met. Other than Fantine, that is. She just had a way of treating someone who could do her favors with a certain amount of grace. But, Squig supposed, self-obsessed oldlings who lived well beyond their usefulness to anything or anybody, especially the universe at large, probably went stark raving mad. He was beginning to think that Alastair was one of them.

Then again, most people were.

By the time Squig had a chance to entertain himself with his thoughts about Alastair, Fantine had thanked him politely and began the hoodoo. The ease and simplicity with which she divined glimpses at what is, what was and what will be confounded him. It was all Greek and Quija boards as far as he could tell. Appearances, without a doubt, were enigmatically deceiving. If he didn’t already know what she was capable of, he’d have just as soon headed back to the bar for a shot of Rye.

Alastair broke into the proceeding with more examples of how far out of whack with reality he’d become. Funny thing was, Squig had to admit he’d hadn’t given the welfare of the girl much more consideration than Alastair had. Fantine was right about the girl, too. Life was like that on the streets. You lend a helping hand to the dangerously dispossessed and you might as well hand over your leg, an arm, an eye and the use of your living room for 6 months. Squig had made a mistake something like that a few years back. He shuddered just thinking about it.

When the discussion leaned toward the disposition of Alastair’s cloak, a couple of bald light bulbs burst in Squig’s head. Judging from Alistair’s overall look and demeanor, that cloak might be just the thing to lead Fantine to the girl. He glanced at Alastair, sizing him up for height and weight again, just to get a bead on what the coat might look like. That’s when he saw a change in the oldling’s eyes. Oh, and that look, too. The one that says, ‘Me Tarzan. You Food.’ That always gave Squig the willies. It was like a desperately blank look from a heartless shark who could not care any less that its food used to be William Shakespeare. The most pointless of vampires minds had disintegrated to something like sour mint jelly, and they lost all appreciation for the sweeter things in life. That look was an awful lot like the look you get from desperate junkies in need of a fix.

Fortunately, Fantine had finished her hoodoo and pulled either end of the necklace around her neck. Without a second thought, Squig took both ends and completed the circle, closing the delicate latch carefully. The moment was paradoxical. It was a blend of refinement and courtesy in a play of brutal reality accompanied by a brash coliapy just across the fairgrounds from the tent of the Mystic Seer.

Squig had to admit that this kind of life sent pleasing chills up his spine. A lot better than monkey go to job, have boring meeting with boring manager Rob. But not enough to inspire him to add anything to the conversation just yet.

« **Reply #14 on:** 12/06/2008 22:52:31 »

Fantine was unimpressed with the changing faces of the vampire in front of her. He was one of the old ones - the mad ones. He never seemed to focus long on anything.

The coat is yours. Fantine spoke softly, authoritatively. If you wish it back, if you wish a bit of sympathy for the girl, we can do that. If not, we can leave her to her fate.

Fantine settled back against the back of her chair, her hair pressing back against Squig's stomach. If you wish it back, tell us, and Squig will lead us there. If not, we may part ways as what you seek, I cannot offer, monsuier.