Riven Wight

Salvation and Damnation {☆Riven Wight & Shadow Writer☆}

HA! Yep! I can't get over that abbreviation.

Oh, I have no idea where Ruby going there was largely to pick up Alex after work, as much as to hang out with her while on shift, came from. For some reason, I thought it was hinted at somewhere, but now I think I was hallucinating. You okay with that? Small thing, but thought I'd ask, anyway.

Edit: Thought I'd add that I found a reference picture I liked for Fiona! Added it to my Character tab post. Couldn't find anything for Parker, though. Not that I'd consider him an "important" side character. He's just your standard side character. Right now, anyway.

Salvation and Damnation {☆Riven Wight & Shadow Writer☆}

@Shadow Writer

I hope you like reading. My post got a little long.

Salvation and Damnation {☆Riven Wight & Shadow Writer☆}

Ruby checked the time on her phone for what felt like the thousandth time in the past ten minutes. She’d texted Alex at least twenty times this past hour, mostly GIFs.
Her shift at Moose ‘N’ Munchies couldn’t end soon enough. It was a slow night, leaving her with little else to do besides sit on the stool at the cash register and ignore Parker, a new-hire who had been hitting on her since he’d started.
“So!”
Speak of the devil.
Ruby sighed. She stopped bouncing her leg and glared at Parker as the nineteen-year-old leaned against the wall behind the cash register.
The boy either didn’t or refused to take the expressive hint. He smiled broadly at her. The spikes in his dyed blonde hair had started to return to their original curls from gel-withdrawal, its color in stark contrast with his dark skin. The restaurant’s beige polo uniform did nothing good for his thin frame, reminding Ruby she still needed to tailor a shirt for him.
“What?” She raised her eyebrows so they disappeared beneath her purple-dyed bangs. “If you’ve set another trashcan on fire, I’m not covering for you again.”
“It only melted!” The embarrassed whine in the boy’s voice made Ruby smirk. He cleared his throat. “But, no. I wanted to ask if you’ve heard there’s a fair in town this weekend.”
“I’m busy.” She looked back to her phone in a rude dismissal.
“It’s supposed to be in town for the next month, so—”
“Look. I like you, Parker. I do,” she began, sparing him only a quick glance while scrolling through Twitter. “But I already told you I don’t date co-workers. Personal rule.”
A rule she’d adopted after one such relationship went bad and come down to her or him leaving Moose ‘N’ Munchies. And she wasn’t going anywhere. The last thing she wanted was for things to get more awkward between her and Parker. He really was a good person, after all.
“Well, it doesn’t have to be just us. We could make it a friend thing. Grab a couple buddies, meet up there, have a good time.”
Ruby eyed him doubtfully. “A friend thing.”
He nodded vigorously. “Cross my heart, nothing else.” He mimed drawing an X over his chest.
“Ruby! Parker!” Her aunt’s shrill voice interrupted from the back. A pudgy woman somewhere in her thirties appeared from the kitchens. She glanced around at the vacant dining area, sighed, then hurried across the room toward the door. “We’re closing up early tonight, kids. I’ve already sent Clara home.”
Her aunt, Fiona, turned off the neon ‘Open’ sign on the entrance. She patted the snout of the moose statue beside the door. Carved to resemble their logo, the wood of its snout was shiny from many such pats. Ruby thought it was a horrifying thing with its tiny white cowboy hat between its antlers and a toothy grin that spanned from ear to ear. But the kids—and her aunt—loved it.
Right along with all the other country-themed décor of the space, from the mounted moose-heads to the wilderness-themed knick-knacks and paintings.
Ruby eagerly sprung to her feet. Closing early meant she’d have more than enough time to change and make herself look good before heading to the Eternal Rose to pick up Alex. She almost envied the girl for being a bartender. Between waitress and bartender, Alex definitely had the sexier job.
Plus, no uniforms with the head of a smiling cartoon moose on the back.
She started toward the back to grab the cleaning supplies. Parker stopped her with a light touch to her shoulder.
“Just think about it, hey?” His brown eyes twinkled hopefully.
Ruby looked up at him—something her short self was all too familiar with doing with people. “No promises. But I’ll think about it.”
The two of them made short work of cleaning up the dining area, tag-teaming the chores. Parker, bless him, happily put all the chairs up while she gave the floors a quick mop. It had been a while now since her arm had given her troubles, but she didn’t want to push her luck.
He finished first, then left with a warm farewell. Returning the cleaning supplies, Ruby at last made it to the employee lockers in the back.
“Hold up.” Fiona met Ruby at her locker. “I want you to stay and do inventory.”
Ruby groaned, hand on the combination dial. Inventory always took an age and a half. And she’d be doing it on her own, since her aunt and uncle had late dinner plans.
“Don’t give me that.” Fiona dipped her chin and looked up at her niece. The light glinted on the woman’s spectacles as if sensing the sternness in her voice. Though she, too, had inherited the short gene in the family, Ruby aspired to look even half as menacing as what the older woman could manage. “You said you wanted a three-day, right?”
Ruby eyed her aunt suspiciously. “Maybe.”
The woman nodded knowingly. “Well. Stay to check inventory tonight, and Parker’s agreed to take your shift on Sunday.”
“Really?” Ruby squealed. She had to give it to the teenager. He was trying his hardest. Which was, she had to admit, part of why she kept turning him down. He was adorable, but too eager. Though, it did apparently have its perks.
“Really. So, watchya say?”
Ruby snapped her feet together and gave a military salute. “Sir, yes sir!”
The woman rolled her eyes good-naturedly, her fluffy brown hair bouncing about her shoulders. She unhooked a keyring from a clip on her belt and tossed them to Ruby. “You know the drill, Rue.”
Ruby caught them, hugged her aunt goodnight, then opened her locker. She traded the day’s tips in her apron pocket for a hair tie from her purse. She put her hair up in a messy ponytail. With the right sleeve cut off of her polo shirt, she rolled up the left, revealing the shiny surgical scars it hid, then got back to work.
Inventory took longer than she’d expected. But, on the bright side, she’d gotten an idea of how to easily get through to Parker that she wasn't interested; ask her newest crush, Tom Odell, to come to the fair with them. Or, more importantly, ask him on an actual date first, then, if all went well, to the fair, along with Alex. She’d been waiting for him to ask her, but hey. It was the 21st century. There was no rule against her asking him.
As soon as she’d finished, she pulled her phone from her apron pocket. Unlocking it, she went to his profile to message him—alas, she didn’t have his phone number—when she noticed a change in his status, and some of his latest posts.
She’d missed her chance, it seemed.
Then, she noticed the time. “Crêpes-and-cheese!”
She’d been working on inventory longer than she’d thought. She was running late. If she wanted to get to the bar before it closed, she wouldn’t have time to stop off at home to change. She opened her messages with Alex, and sent a quick text.
Got stuck with inventory. OMW!
She rushed through locking up, giving Ferdinand—the moose statue—a customary pat, then rushed out the back, a bag of perfectly good food destined for the trash in hand.
With no time to chat, she gave the sack of leftover food to the harmless homeless man who favored camping beside the dumpster out back, then rushed for her car in the parking lot across the street.
Stuck in her own head, she didn’t notice the other car until it was nearly on top of her. A panicked scream caught in her throat as its tires squealed in effort to stop. In that instant, she knew first-hand what a ‘dear in the headlights’ felt like.
The car jerked to a stop mere inches from Ruby. She stared at its fender, wide-eyed. She looked up, and, her brain a panicked mess, did the only thing she could think of to do. She scowled at the driver hidden behind the glare of the headlights.
“Watch where you’re going, you creep!” she shouted. She kicked the fender, then hurried to her car, her legs suddenly feeling a bit like jelly and heart pounding in her chest. Her own vehicle was an old run-down thing, a hand-me-down she’d bought for cheap from her cousin after he’d gotten a better one before heading off to college.
Once she’d calmed down, the drive to the Eternal Rose was a short one. But in that time, she forced the thought of Tom to override the horror of almost being ran over.
A missed chance. She hated when she missed her chance for anything she wanted.
Unlike Moose ‘N’ Munchies, the Eternal Rose still had an impressive number of cars in the parking lot considering the hour. She found a parking spot, then sauntered into the bar.
The familiar stench of alcohol and body odor replaced the fresh seaside air outside. Finding Alex behind the bar, Ruby huffed over, dropped her purse on the shiny bar top, and slapped her hands theatrically beside it.
The noise gained her a couple glowers from those who weren’t yet drunk enough to not care—and the ogling gazes of a few others both semi-sober and well over their limits. Her ponytail swished behind her.
“Tom Odell has a girlfriend!” she whined.
With a melodramatic moan, she sunk into one of the barstools. She made it swivel around so she could lean backwards dramatically. Her polo shirt rode up her slim torso, revealing a hint of the tips of the wing tattoos on her sides.
“My life. Is over!”
Was, almost literally, a small voice reminded her, but she shoved that aside with the promise to make sure to always look both ways before crossing the street from then on.
Ruby leaned her head back, her bright blue eyes seeking out Alex behind the bar. “Make me some mixed drink strong enough to knock the socks off an orc, would you? I need to drown my sorrows.” She sighed heavily. “Though, that’d mean you’d have to be the designated driver tonight.”
She swiveled back around on her stool, folded her arms on the bar, and placed her chin atop them.
“So, maybe the orc’s feet should get to stay warm after all,” she muttered. “Or maybe half-warm. Think I could afford something that would knock them off half-way.”

The girl was lucky Vander had quick reflexes. If it hadn’t been for the shock on her face, he’d have thought she was trying to commit suicide with how carelessly she’d dashed into the street.
His car jerked to a screeching halt. Mr. Fuzzums, who had been sleeping on Vander’s lap, let out a shocked yowl and dug his claws in to keep from flying off.
The girl outside, blue highlights in her hair catching in his headlights, had the gall to blame him. His lips rose in a snarl, an inhuman growl rumbling from his chest as she kicked his car, then scurried off like the mouse she was.
A mouse the predator in him longed to chase. The thought alone of her blood and the chase called to him, making his throat prickle and chest ach. But Mr. Fuzzums’ irate meows drew his thoughts back to civility.
He took a slow breath, focusing beyond the eternal bloodhaze. He’d fed recently enough. It could wait a few more hours.
The cat righted himself, then hopped to the empty seat.
“Wasn’t my fault!” he grumbled at the cat as he urged the car forward.
The floofy gray tabby glared at him for a long moment, tail swishing. The small magic charm on Mr. Fuzzums’ collar clinked lightly against the other tags as the feline curled up on the vacant seat.
His drive through town remained otherwise uneventful. He took the time to reacquaint himself with the streets, some still vaguely familiar, others newer since he’d last been here.
He was breaking one of his self-imposed rules by coming here: never live in a town twice in fifty years. Fifty years was usually long enough for humans to forget his face. To forget any people who had gone missing. For him to become a hazy blip in the townsfolks’ minds.
But he was desperate for a reprieve, and hoped that this breach in his own rules would help give him some rest from running from the warlock who had changed him. That this was the place where he’d lost his only chance at creating a Voice of Salvation strengthened the unlikelihood of Vander’s return.
He’d taken further extra precautions than just that this time, of course, even bought some wards he hoped would at least slow Brahm down from tracking him. He didn’t expect it to last, if it was even working, but even just a few days of peace was always worth the extra effort.
Using the GPS on his most recent burner phone, he found the house he’d rented ahead of time.
Located in what he could only call a ‘rich neighborhood,’ this one was set slightly apart from the other houses on the street. It backed up to the beach surrounding a massive lake, easily visible to Vander despite the night’s depths.
Though technically an Air B&B, Vander had convinced the owner to rent it to him for a few months. It was a bit grander than what he usually rented, but, again, it was something different. Something to hopefully throw Brahm off, if only for an extra breath.
He parked in the driveway, then got out. He leaned against the open door, inhaling the cool breeze rolling in off the lake. Exhaling the unnecessary breath, the vampire let his mental senses roam, searching.
He could sense and smell the lingering presence of a few supernaturals, but they were either too faint or belonged to creatures too weak for him to care about. No, much to the joy of his bloodhaze, the smell of humans was much more dominant.
He’d need to find out the supernatural situation in town as soon as possible. He knew just the person to ask, if he was still around. But for now… He twisted the tiger-head ring on his middle finger, and muttered its activation word.
The tiger’s closed mouth opened, and its ruby eyes glowed for a beat. Though it wouldn’t deceive other vampires or exceptionally strong supernaturals, it would, at least, help mask his aura to any lesser sensitives in the area.
Mr. Fuzzums stretched with a noisy “Mrrrrr,” drawing Vander’s attention. The feline sauntered over the center console, hopped out of the open door, then sat beside Vander, staring up at the house, tail flicking.
The cat looked up at the vampire. “Mrow!”
“I’ll feed you first thing, I promise,” he answered, meeting the feline’s emerald gaze for a moment, then reached inside to pop the trunk.
With Mr. Fuzzums padding beside him expectantly, Vander swiftly unloaded four suitcases, shut the trunk, and made his way to the pillared portico. The cat wove between his feet, making a game of trying to trip him—a game the cat never won—before rushing up the steps ahead of him.
“Mrow!” Mr. Fuzzums called again, louder this time, as Vander punched in the key code replacing a lock.
Inside, the smell of cleaners nearly drowned out the faint, lingering residue of the humans who had cleaned it. Not bothering to turn on a light, he looked up at the chandelier dangling in the entrance hall.
He kicked off his shoes, and entered a large sitting area, furnished with plush, expensive-looking everything.
A slow smile quirked at his lips. While the few houses he actually owned would put this one to shame, he normally tried to not be overly showy, taking whatever rental he could get.
He should get eye-candy places like this more often. What was immortality if you didn’t often spend it in luxury? And luxury was definitely something the humans had spent many lifespans improving.
“MER-ROW!” The slight echo to the cat’s call hinted that he’d found the kitchen.
This time, Vander meowed back, eliciting an indignant, “Mrrr!”
He sat the suitcases on the floor, then wheeled one marked with a cat keychain in the direction Mr. Fuzzums had hollered.
The kitchen was all stainless steel, white tile, and gold-veined black marble. He tossed the suitcase on an island. In little more than one of Mr. Fuzzum’s breaths, he’d unpacked the cat’s food bowls, filled one up with food, and started filling the water bowl.
Once the cat was happily gorging himself, he returned to his “borrowed” Mercedes to grab the cat’s litter box from the back seat.
Back inside, as he filled up the litterbox, he decided that he’d go see if his old nixie acquaintance still owned that seaside bar of his tomorrow. But he would have to be careful. A bar meant humans. And humans meant temptation.
So, tonight, he would settle in. Tonight, he would hunt.

Salvation and Damnation {☆Riven Wight & Shadow Writer☆}

My Main Characters

Ruby Sleeter

Full Name: Ruby Estel Sleeter

Nickname(s): If she likes you, she’ll accept Rue, but she prefers her full first name.

Appeared Age: Depends on how much makeup she’s put on. Without it, a bit younger than her actual age. With it, a bit older.

Actual Age: 21

Race: Human

General Appearance: Height: 5’ 3” Build: She has a lithe dancer’s body. Hair: As in the picture! She has it currently dyed light purple with sky-blue highlights. Though she’s a natural strawberry blond, she has it currently dyed light purple with sky-blue highlights. Kept in long, often messy layers. Eyes: Light blue.

Distinguishing Marks: She has a pair of midriff tattoos, one on either side of her torso; one is a stylized bat wing with its claws forming into curly-cues, the other a feathered wing. It’s just the outline of them so far. She’s currently working on saving up to get them colored—along with the nerve to get it done. The outline was bad enough; she's considering just leaving it as is, despite her original intentions. As much as she hates to admit it, she's a bit of a baby when it comes to things like that.

Clothes Wear: Whatever she feels is “cute” that day, while fitting with what level of comfort she's most in the mood for.

Accessories: She likes matching them to her outfit. But it’s rare for her to be seen without at lest one necklace. She has two lobe piercings on her left ear, and four on her right. Like with the tattoo, the fourth in the cartilage made her rethink getting more, and stopped her from evening out the other side.

Prized Possession(s): Does her cell phone count? She’d count her cell phone.

Occupation: Waitress at a diner her aunt owns. Though, she does hope to one day become a professional dancer. Or maybe an actress. She sees no reason to not aspire to both. And if all else fails, a parapsychologist doesn't sound too horrible of an option to her, either.

Weapon(s): She always keeps a taser and a can of pepper spray on her. She’s had reason to use them a couple times, and, quite honestly, found it quite satisfying giving the creeps what they deserved.

Personality: She is an extremely dominant personality. She’s a spunky, fiery girl, who is always moving. She’s rather loud for such a small thing, and has always been a major reason that she (and her friends) have gotten into trouble. She is very outspoken, doesn’t have much—if any—of a filter between her brain and tongue, and is a fierce and loyal friend. She's the type who will gladly protect her friends, especially her BFF ((You know, your character)), with her life. She is a good mix between a Tom Boy and a Girly-Girl; while she's well-versed in things like makeup, hair dye, and isn't afraid of setting her own fashion styles, she also isn't afraid of getting down and dirty. She'd happily roll around in a mud pit just for the fun of it (as long as it wouldn't ruin any of her good clothes), then get cleaned up for an upscale night on the town.

Mental Weaknesses/Fears: Ruby is terrified of becoming anything remotely like her parents. While she isn't blind to her good personality and physical traits, she ultimately hides behind her show of confidence when it comes to how put-together she feels, both physically and mentally. While it isn't a lie, exactly, it is a sort of shield. She is also afraid of being trapped somewhere with no way to defend herself, or to call for help.

Physical Abilities: She has some good core strength from years of dance classes, really good stamina, and is extremely bendy. She’s joked around about joining a circus as a contortionist, though even she has to admit that she isn’t actually that bendy.

Physical Weaknesses: She lacks strength outside the main areas necessary for dancing,and is exceptionally weak in her left arm. This is because of an old, severe injury, which never fully healed quite right. Though, thankfully, it healed enough for her to still be capable feeding her passion in dancing.

A Short-ish Bio: It wasn't until she was around seven years old when she went to live with her aunt Fiona (Ruby's mother's sister) and uncle Tristin. With her parents abusive, and her father occasionally in and out of jail for various minor misdemeanors, her aunt and uncle decided to fight for custody over her to give her a better life. Luckily, she got it, though her father had demanded that she keep her "rightful" surname of Sleeter, rather than changing it to Moose. Which was probably one of the only things she's even been thankful for when it came to her parents. So, she grew up with her aunt and uncle, and her older cousin, Aaron, who very much became like a brother to her.
While her parents still popped into existence in her life now and again--something made easier since they only lived about an hour's drive away, if that--she soon grew to dread the times she had to see them. As time wore on and their "visits" became increasingly stressful, she fought against them until, finally, they caved and stopped coming around... unless they needed money or some such, of course. She's honestly shocked that either of them are still alive, and will never understand how the two of them were still married, especially with the amount of hate and resentment between them.
As for her arm, while she enjoys making up different tales about how it got injured (to entertain others just as much to avoid having to relive the memory), the truth behind it isn't as grand as she'd like. Though it does hold a smidge of the supernatural to it that she's clung to ever since. It's the only part of the whole ordeal she lets herself remember.
In fact, it happened after the last "visit" from her parents. Around the age of thirteen, they had talked her into going on an outing to a park with them. Things went south fast. Her father even got violent with her, and so, she ran, forgetting her phone in her haste.
She didn't pay attention to where she was going, nor did she care. She just wanted to make sure they wouldn't find her. With the vastness of the forested park, she turned off the trail. She didn't know how long or how far she'd gone for--it could have been minutes, or hours--when she came to a sudden, steep drop. She tried to stop, but the ground gave way, and she tumbled down into a ravine filled with leaf litter and bramble.
There, she found an ancient steel-jaw trap--rather, her arm did, the hard way. Before she could let out a full scream, a boulder jarred her to a stop, and she lost consciousness.
She had no clue how long she'd been down there for, but by the time she woke, she'd lost a lot of blood. She'd tried calling out for help, but she was too far from the path, and there was no way she could get herself back up the hill with the steel jaw clamped on her, even if its chain wasn't caught on something.
She wound up being in and out of agonizing consciousness, so, though part of her is positive of what she saw, the other part of her questions it, and has kept her quiet about it all these years. Not even Alex knows.
She swore, what felt like not long before she was found, there was someone there with her. She couldn't fully make the figure out, as if he--or she--was there, yet wasn't. She thought she heard the whisper of a crooning, calming voice. Though after she couldn't remember if it was more masculine or feminine, she is of the opinion that it was that figure's call that led a search party to her. After all, even the members of that search party weren't entirely sure how they'd found her, nearly hidden as she was.
They said she'd gotten lucky. They'd found her just in time, and the trap was old, so it had lost a decent bit of its tension. The damage it did could have been much, much worse. All the same, it took many surgeries and physical therapy to fix what damage it did cause. But Ruby was determined to heal from it.
She found out later that there were quite a few rumors about the forest she'd ran through. From that day on, her enjoyment of the supernatural became an obsession. One she worked hard to keep secret--or at least to make it seem more like a normal hobby--but an obsession nonetheless.
It was also the final straw for keeping her parents away from her--from what she'd heard, they hadn't bothered to report her missing for hours. She also always makes sure to keep her phone on her person at all times, so she'll have a way of contacting someone in the event of an emergency.

Evander "Vander" Draklan

Full Name: Evander Ambrosius Draklan

Nickname(s): Vander. Though technically a nickname, it’s what he usually goes by outside the need for aliases.

Aliases: As an immortal, he sheds aliases regularly. He likes to keep a few lined up for quick use, though he does favor using his actual name when it would be of little consequence, or when dealing with the other supernaturals of the world.

Appeared Age: Usually hears somewhere in his mid to late twenties. As he was changed when he was 28, this doesn’t surprise him.

Actual Age: Old enough to not care anymore (but if you did the math, he’d be about 902).

Race: Vampire

Nationality: German, as we’d call it today.

General Appearance: Height: 5’10” Build: He’s always had a strong, muscular build, even before being changed. Hair: Though he’s grown out his hair like he’d once kept it way back when, he’s been considering cutting it short again. But, for now, it’s fairly long, well kept, and dark brown. Eyes: Hazel. If you look close enough or in the right light, there’s a slight red tinge to his pupils, like red-eye in a bad photo. They dilate with the swell of his eternal thirst. This color will completely consume his eyes when he feeds or fully unleashes his powers. Skin Tone: More fair-skinned than outright undead pale. Anything Else: When retracted, his canines are always a smidge longer and sharper than your typical human’s, though not so much so that they would necessarily draw attention or scream “vampire.” However, when not retracted, they’re menacingly long, and the ones around them also morph into fangs, the canines remaining the longest among them.

Clothes Wear: Even when he dresses “casual,” it’s usually something rather classy. He quite misses the days when typical men’s fashion didn’t involve oversized graphic t-shirts and baggy pants, and is keeping hope that more classy dress will come back into style again. After all, bellbottoms made a comeback for a while, so why not?

Accessories: He doesn’t have many extravagant accessories, though he does have a ruby stud earring in his left ear, and a tiger-head ring with matching eyes that he favors.

Occupation: This has changed many times over the years. Though, in order to avoid it ending in a blood-drenched disaster, he’s had to work more in the background or otherwise in positions where he wasn’t around too many people for an extended period of time. Or outright manipulate humans to get the job done for him. At the moment, he’s in between jobs, and taking the time to see what’s new in this little section of the world he’s newly decided to call home again.

Weapon(s): He often keeps a Glock 21 (which he has bullets of various metals for, including silver ones) concealed about his person. As fast and powerful as he is, having a ranged weapon handy never hurt. He also has a small portion of his collection of various weapons locked away in the room he’s set aside as a study/office in his current rental house.

Personality: After many failed attempts at ending his and the warlock’s lives, Vander decided long ago that he would not let the warlock who turned him into a vampire win. As such, he’s spent his immortal life split between fighting the nagging thirst always clawing at him, and doing his best to embrace and enjoy what he is. Though he’s learned to read a person and alter how he acts to lure them away from the pack, in general, he’s highly aware of how strong he is, and holds himself with a cocky air worthy of the reputation he’s made for himself among the supernatural community, and often has a hard outward personality. A personality that’s just as much survival instinct as it is an ingrained habit at this point. However, when he’s alone, he’s a lot more relaxed, and dotes upon his cat like it’s the child he never had.
But a cat isn’t the same as being around humans or finding the true love and companionship his heart has desired since losing his family so long ago. And loneliness can do strange things to a person, especially when the only ones who break that up with any decent longevity are creatures that tend to bask in violence.
Over time, while trying to cling to his righteousness from when he was human, a part of him has fractured into two distinctive parts of himself: his fading humanity, and his bloodhaze. But it’s where the cracks spiderweb out from the main break, where one side reaches into the other, that he can become the most dangerous. He’s been known to snap between the two in a blink, and often has trouble telling exactly where his bloodhaze’s desire for violence and pain actually ends, or even if it ends, or if it has fully blended into who he has truly become.

Magical Abilities:. Smoke Mimicry: Though he can’t burst into a swarm of bats, he can turn into smoke, either entirely or in part. Used right, he can use this to essentially grant himself a form of flight. Hypnosis/Compulsion: Comes in handy when manipulating humans. He’s built this up enough that he can use it on some supernatural creatures, not just humans. Hyper-Healing: Alas, as he's found out from experience, while this means that most things that hurt him don't hurt for long, it doesn't dilute any pain itself. Being set on fire? Yeah, not fun. Exactly how quickly he recovers from things does have a dependency on how recently he's fed, and feeding after being injured helps greatly. Also, if he's been significantly (or repeatedly) injured, his bloodhaze will work itself into a frenzy, even if his body doesn't really need the blood. Pyrokinesis: This one is uncommon among his kind, and related to the history behind his change. He can control and summon fire. Though more a “party trick” to this, he can even change its color. Heat Haze: An off-shoot of the last, he can use the distorting powers of heat to create optical illusions.

Physical Abilities: Ye ol’ vampiric standards: heightened senses, strength, agility, etc. Everything that helps makes a vampire the ultimate predator.

Weaknesses: With his age, he has, in a sense, ‘outgrown’ what few of your typical vampiric weaknesses his kind have, and sunlight—though not something that could kill even fledglings of his kind—is a minor irritation that lightly weakens his overall strengths. And makes him extra irritable. No, he only has three real weaknesses anymore: 1) Killing his creator to kill him—though, as much as he'd rather be the one to do it, he’d thank you for that. 2) His need for blood. If he doesn’t hunt at the very least every two to three weeks, it will completely consume him. The longer he goes, the more it begins to be a physical ache, and weakens his abilities. But even in between, it’s a danger, his need and desire for blood and death an unrelenting beast. He’s been capable of gaining enough self-control to not attack anything with a heartbeat the moment it comes withing a mile of him, but it’s always an eternal struggle, even if it's just been an hour since he last fed. 3) Striking at the only things he’s allowed himself to grow attached to—like his cat, though he knows that even that animal will only be around for what is but a wisp to his eternity.

Other: Though he has since learned how to blend his mortal German accent into many local dialects, to this day, he easily slips back into this accent from time to time. As stated above, Vander is currently in a small rental house. While he could afford something larger for himself and his cat, since he ends up having to relocate fairly often to avoid others noticing that he doesn’t age, he prefers rentals. He does have a few permanent places that are out-of-the-way safe havens in a couple different countries, but he tries to not use them too often.

Mr. Fuzzums: A seven-year-old gray and white tabby cat with green eyes. Though not overweight, he isn’t exactly a skinny cat anymore, either. Vander often reassures him that it’s just all his “floof.” A couple years ago, Mr. Fuzzums found Vander while he was out hunting. Having gone a bit too long between feeding, Vander had been too focused on his prey to pay any great amount of attention to his surroundings. A hunter tried sneaking up on him to intercept his hunt. While the human hunter couldn’t have killed Vander, Mr. Fuzzums saved him from having to deal with the irritation of a stake through his heart. The cat jumped in out of seemingly nowhere, sinking its teeth and claws into the hunter’s face. After Vander killed the hunter and hid the body, he headed back to the apartment he was living in then, but the cat followed him home. He tried to get the cat to leave, but it would always be there, waiting for him when he left the building. So, since the blood of animals doesn’t call to him the same way the blood of humans does, they adopted each other. Since then, Vander has had a soft spot for cats, and has zero tolerance for animal abuse.

Bio: He was born the fifth son to an earl, whose bloodline has long since died out. Having been trained for and achieving knighthood, Vander had just been betrothed—an engagement that was equal parts strategy and true love—when he was sent off to fight in the Second Crusade ((if I have my dates in order, but I suppose that doesn’t matter to anything besides my OCD)).
It was a war he wouldn’t come back from alive.
During a raid, Vander and one of their officers had gotten separated from a couple others in his regiment as they set to burning down a town said to be steeped in witchcraft. Finding one particular home on the outskirts that had managed to avoid the initial onslaught, he and his officer entered it. There, they found tomes and various other things of a witchy nature, though they hadn’t really needed all that to justify burning it down.
But the small house wasn’t empty.
A woman tried to defend both it and herself. But, determined to “purge the world of her evil,” Vander and his officer quickly subdued her.
Having other things he needed to tend to, Vander’s officer left him to “salvage” whatever goods he could, then burn the place down, the bound and gagged witch inside included. Being an obedient soldier, Vander did as he was told, staying to make sure the last of these “accursed, evil hovels” burned to the ground.
But neither he nor his officer had thought to make sure that the woman was the only one who lived there.
The woman’s husband, a powerful warlock, came back to find his wife burning alive. So, to punish Vander for taking everything away from him, the warlock cursed the German to an immortal life of bloodlust.
Though at first the strengths that came with it seemed like they were a blessing, his bloodlust utilized further against the Muslims and Jews they were persecuting, it soon became a curse. With no control over his need for blood, in a single, bloodhaze-filled night, he killed everyone in his camp.
Comrades. Men he’d called brothers since his youth. Dead. All dead, and at his hands.
Horrified, Vander fled, hunting down the warlock who had cursed him. But he couldn’t get close before the spell binding them stopped him, casting him into a world of agony for his efforts.
He spent years trying to find out how to break this curse, and even tried committing suicide by any and every means. But the only way to end his life was to kill the immortal warlock who had changed him. Years later, in desperation, he went after the warlock again. In his desperate rage, he killed anyone he knew the warlock associated before going after the warlock himself. He got extremely close to succeeding before the agony of the magic tether dropped him.
The warlock kept his distance after that, leaving Vander to roam about the world of humans on his own. He’s met many other supernatural creatures on his travels, but he always longed for a life where he was back in control, where his eternal hunger wasn’t always nagging at him, and always overeager to indulge. He always tried to not kill his victims, but, alas, he’s only ever succeeded once, and even that was in recent years, with many, many kills behind him.
At first, as he thought he slowly gained some control over his bloodlust, he tried to integrate himself back amongst humans. Sometimes, he lasted a good month, others barely a few days before his thirst took over, stimulated by all the beating hearts and tantalizing aromas of all the liquid life.
He stopped trying after his tenth massacre, each one covered up by flames. The Great Fire of London? One of Vander's massacre cover-ups. He hadn't actually intended it to get that intense, but his control over fire then wasn't nearly what it today.
He was sick of all the death, sick from being the cause of it. Alas, it couldn’t be helped. But he vowed that he wouldn’t let the warlock truly win. One day, he’d find a way to stop him. To kill one monster to stop another.
So, he resigned himself to a lonely life devoted to making himself as strong as possible, while watching and manipulating humans from the shadows. For a short stint, he even took on hunting other supernatural creatures that preyed on humans and threatened to expose the supernatural world, all in an attempt to ease his conscience. Luckily for him, this was taken as him defending his own current hunting grounds. Different societies of supernaturals began to fear him, and both hate and respect him in equal measure.
Inadvertently, he’s made a name for himself among supernatural creatures, one that’s usually spoken of in reverence. Though he’s heard there are are only a couple vampires still around who are older than him, even they haven't dared confront him. Now, since the only other supernatural creatures who try to make friendly with him do so only out of fear, or because they want something from him, he avoids even them as much as he can.
The only good thing about being immortal is that humans are always changing. Leave a place long enough, and it would be like a new city, with new places to explore and new people. He's never lacking something to do. He’s done everything he can to enjoy his un-life. Though he has very few permanent residents, the ones he does have are filled with collections of art and books, instruments and weapons, and many other things from every era he’s lived through.
But in recent years, he hasn’t spent as much time in these permanent residents. He goes wherever the wind takes him—though he’s had to be careful to not stay in one place for too long, and avoid making attachments. He’s cared for far too many mortals and seen them lost—too often by his own hand—to let himself get close to humans again.
His cat—an odd creature in and of itself, as most animals fear the greater predator they sense in him—aside, he is completely alone in the world.

Important Side Characters

Fiona Moose

Fiona is Ruby's biological aunt, who married one Tristin Moose.
Yes, her last name is at least part of the reason for naming her restaurant Moose 'N' Munchies. The other is that she knows a guy who supplies her with moose meat, so they make unique burgers. Also, she just really likes moose... as in it's her overall favorite animal. The irony that she sells moose burgers isn't lost on her.

Parker Ashwell

The new hire at Moose N' Munchies. Nineteen, almost twenty, he's a sweet, helpful man who is hopeful that he'll be capable of winning Ruby's heart, despite her rule against dating co-workers.

Sacred Sacrifices

Just to make sure you know, I want to say that I don’t expect you to match the length of my IC post on your next one! I still had some point A to point B to play with for Nikita, but now that we’re in direct character interaction, I know that replies will get significantly shorter.

No worries! It happens. Thanks for taking the time to describe it here for me! :-)

Well, I appreciate your patience greatly!

Very true. The only way to get better at something is to practice!

Will do! I’m curious. How long have you been writing for? Sorry if you’ve said that somewhere and I can’t recall. Heh, understandable, about not editing and getting excited about posting! I’ve done that before. The “Edit” option on these things and I are well acquainted.

Sacred Sacrifices

It wasn’t until she was nearly at the first of the furthest two traps that Nikita realized she’d forgotten to bring fresh bait. She’d been too preoccupied with Nico’s newest turn to think about it. She’d just have to make do. Maybe make a second trip out here after she’d checked them, if they needed it.
Then, of course, the small scar below her left jaw joint started to itch. Her song paused long enough for her to scowl at the sky through the leafy canopy. That itch, she swore, always meant rain.
Alas, clouds had indeed begun to drift over the sky, dimming the sunlight in random patches, confirming her suspicions.
Keeping a vigilant eye on her surroundings, she resumed her song and quickened her pace. Here, the woods grew denser. Undergrowth started to catch in the sled’s runners, slowing her down. Reaching a gnarled tree with a tattered red cloth tied around a lower branch, she left the sled near it, then continued.
She slowed, quieting, as she picked out the subtle signs she’d left for herself to avoid falling into her own pitfall. She paused and sighed grumpily. The net hidden beneath forest debris laid undisturbed. Yet, something had managed to take the old, dried meat she’d left out as bait.
Deciding to leave checking the net’s tension for the return trip, she carefully veered around the first trap and started the march to the second-furthest from her home.
But she didn’t get far.
She’d just picked up her song again, when something large fell out of a tree in front of her. She gasped, stumbling back. Her heart quickened as adrenaline rushed through her alongside her surprise.
The thing—the man—hadn’t fallen, she realized, but jumped. His simple clothing blended in perfectly with the surrounding forest, explaining why she hadn’t spotted him sooner. For a relieved breath, she thought it must be another hunter. She scowled, then opened her mouth to scold him, but she found his purple eyes, and the words died in her throat.
Purple eyes. His hair was tied back, but still clearly white. Just like all the stories said.
He wasn’t a hunter. He was an elf.
Cold sank through her, draining the blood from her face. For a moment that felt an eternity, as this creature stared at her, she could only stare back, fear-locked in place. The many warnings of the villagers flooded her mind, riding the tail of the image of her father’s broken body:
“Never stray far from the path! The elves live there!”
“Evil things, them. Curse ya soon as look atchya!”
While at first glance she’d thought he must have been slouching, the first thing that registered through the warning bells clanging in her head was that he was a lot shorter than she’d expect. The stores all said they were lithe, towering creatures, but this one was a couple inches shorter than her.
A child? But, besides the childlike surprise and curiosity there, his face, though fairly feminine for a male, didn’t look like a child’s. Then, the elf spoke, shattering the moment.
She startled further away and reached to draw the machete at her belt, but stopped, hand on the hilt. The tales rarely spoke of what to do to better your chances of leaving an elf encounter intact. They all assumed that you were immediately done for, and all agreed that their magic was quicker than a blade.
She pried her fingers reluctantly open, then moved both hands beside her, trying to look harmless. She needed to be smart about this. Nico needed her, and she couldn’t live with herself if she brought another curse home with her. If she made it home at all.
The thought hardened her expression with indignance at the past wrongs elves had done her.
Though she hadn’t understood the elf, his words had at least sounded like a question. Hoping to the heavens that curses didn’t sound like questions, she took another slow half step away, her gaze on his.
“I mean you no harm, elf,” she tried stiffly, unsure if he’d understand her. “I’m just…” she hesitated. Elves were said to be fiercely protective of the animals around their dwelling. But it was also said they could taste lies on the wind. “Out foraging for food,” she finished, hoping a half-truth would be less detectable if that story held any salt. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Sacred Sacrifices

Quick question: What's Illion wearing? You don't have to go into details here if you don't want, but is he dressed to sort of blend in with the forest? Wanted to ask rather than just assume! And sorry if I overlooked that description.

Ah, that's definitely not something you need to worry about with me! It sounds like you and I are in a similar boat, there. I don't have patience IRL with much else, but when it comes to online replies, you won't lose me as a partner from taking a long time. I, too, have waited months or even a good year for a response before! As long as I know you still have interest in the RP, I won't drop a RP just because of that.

I don't know what writing skill level you'd put me on, but, please, with something like that, don't worry about it, especially not with me. While there are of course certain styles I favor over others, as long as I'm not having to interpret what a partner is writing like some ancient tomb written in Atlantean or something, then I'm good. All I ask of a partner is that they put their best foot forward, as you've already said you do! A RP is basically one giant rough draft, anyway.

I'm sure you've heard it before, and I know it's hard to not do, but you should never compare your writing to someone else's. For one thing, I can guarantee that whoever you're comparing it to has put in a different amount of practice toward the craft than you have, one direction or the other. For another, everyone's preference and everyone's voice is different in its own right. In my opinion, a writer should absolutely learn from others' styles, find what we like and pinpoint what seems to work and what doesn't, and incorporate that to further our voice and skills! But we should use that to enhance our own voices, not snuff them out.

Hmm. That all said, if you ever have any friendly suggestions for me, please don't hesitate to share your thoughts! I'm always open to constructive criticism, and on the constant hunt to find ways I can improve. I do know that I tend to over-describe some things--eliminating needless descriptions is usually one of my edits in things I want to take beyond a rough draft, but, well, my IC posts here usually just get one or two quick reads to make sure I'm not missing too many letters or words.

Sacred Sacrifices

There's nothing to apologize for! Trust me, I'm well aware of all the things that get in the way of IC responses. Heck, sorry for not replying to OOC+PMs! I'd meant to, started to, then my browser closed before I hit send in PMs. Got preoccupied after that.

"Sorry it's short."
Pfffft, we looking at the same post? Besides, even if it WAS short (which it's not), as long as it got your point across and gives me something to work with (without being a one-liner), I'm good.

I'll get started on a post either tonight or tomorrow, depending on if any last-minute plans come up tonight.

On tonight, HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Sacred Sacrifices

Ah, gotchya. Well, if you have any questions or want any hints/advice, don't hesitate to say something! You haven't done any roleplaying directly trough the guild in a long while? Out of curiosity, have you been using another site, or have you not doing a lot of RP in general of late?

O.O You used to LIVE IN JAPAN? What brought you all the way there? Did you enjoy your time there? You know, come to think, I don't think I know what country you're in now... WOW, I'm out of practice for OOC chatter. I'm in the United States, by the by.

Sacred Sacrifices

Hey, when you're used to a particular style or auto formatting, it's difficult to do something different for a site or two. I was happy that the tab button works on here because using that is a habit for me in anything not OOC, so I didn't have to adjust that. Though, I'm pretty sure I discovered it's use because I forgot to double-return instead. And there were some times when I was first on here where I started putting the BBC for formatting in my word docs. It just all bleeds over at some point.

If it wouldnt be too much trouble! It would make it a bit easier on the eyes to read.