HUNGER [open]

[Moore]

TO SEE A MAN BEATEN NOT BY A BETTER OPPONENT BUT BY HIMSELF IS A TRAGEDY

Cus D'Amato

It's that dead spot within the night, that coldest, blackest time when the world has forgotten evening and dawn is not yet a promise. A time when it is far too early to arise, but so late that going to bed makes small sense. A year passes for a wolf as a decade does for a man. Time is no miser when one lives always in the now. Even for one such as Julian Patrick Moore.

How long now has it been? He could hardly recall the last time he had allowed the beast within to roam free and ravage any other. It's been years now, though, and longer than that. At least that's what he thinks as he looks down upon his bare and scarred hand. It's rough from the art of war and rough even more so from the sins he had dealt with. How many had suffered from his hands when he had first turned? It seemed such a mild predicament compared to all else now but he could feel his flesh heat whenever he thought of the scent of offal.

It's nearly the same feeling one finds when thinking of the last time they had coupled. That feeling of one's pulse deep within their loins that leaves them aching for more. He wanted more. He needed more. He could stand there and recall the horrid days of his torture and recall the feeling of releasing himself unto the world to tear such asunder but that wasn't enough. He felt nigh humiliated then and there with the ache deep within his gut as he fought the urge to salivate. It's utter and bestial anticipation that seeks to claw deep and throttle him.

Half the evil in this world occurs while decent people stand by and do nothing. It's not enough to refrain from evil though. People have to attempt to do right, even if they believe they cannot succeed. He had been there at those crossroads time and again, and the truth was, was that he had nearly abandoned himself. How much longer can he venture through life as he was now?

Who was he any longer?

It's another one of those nights again. It's a night where self-doubt lingers high within one's mind and fills them with naught else but dread. It's not only that but the ever present feeling of fear within as that bestial self churns deep and begs to be free; to feast upon flesh.

How long now since the last?

His eyes open wide as the floor underfoot shifts wildly and comes to a sudden halt. An intercom hisses and a voice pushes through soon after. "Thalia," the driver utters and those upon the bus make their move to step off. Moore pinches an eye shut and follows; a wolf within sheep's clothing...

...a wolf that hungers.

What greets him are the lights of the city.

[Rhiannon]

A MAN WITHOUT AMBITION IS LIKE A WOMAN WITHOUT BEAUTY

Frank Harris[/right]

Tonight she forgot about the world. It could be ending in flames outside the window near the bed and she would never know. Eyes closed, she was adrift someplace else entirely. A quiet exhalation was the only sound in the room aside from the soft hum of the heater. The seconds moved fluidly in sync with her unbeating pulse and mind. Her cheek turned to rest against the cool pillow and she bit her lip. On the inside of her eyes danced an image of Julian Patrick Moore.

How long now had it been? She’d begun to lose track of the days and the weeks. They were blending together in a delicious mesh of vibrant color. Rhiannon’s fingers curled at the thought of him and her breath shortened. Somehow she had been sucked into his world and she didn’t want to escape. Her hours were consumed by him. When the evening rose she was at his side. In a dark alleyway as he went toe-to-toe with Goliath’s or lying in his bed. Either way his name was on her lips. Rhiannon’s mouth whispered headily to the empty room; “Moore...” The world he had introduced her to was filled with hardened men trying to make their wage and wanton desire that she had never before known. But for now his bed contained only her. She took satisfaction in knowing that they would warm it together soon enough.

He was the only thing that warmed her cold body.

Rhiannon didn’t know how long she stayed there but when she finally found the world again it was dark out. The sheen of the streetlights glowed on the other side of the blinds. She stretched where she laid on his bed, reluctant to rise but a hunger clutched at her - and it wasn’t a hunger that Julian would be able to sate. No, that wasn’t true. She had a feeling he was the only thing that would satisfy it, but she couldn’t turn to him for this. Fire burned in her cheeks as she sat up then slid over the side to stand. He had tempted her and seduced her with his wares, but it never failed that when they were together another temptation laid in bed with them. She wanted to lengthen her fangs and delve into the crook of his neck, taste him in a way that she had yet to. The way that only a vampire could appreciate. Rhiannon’s hands rose to cover her face as the vivid image danced before her closed eyes, seeing herself drinking from him. Sinking her fangs into him as he sank into her and discovering him in a way that she reserved for prey.

There laid the one thing that separated her from Moore in an irreconcilable way. That which he could never know, and she could never share.

Rhiannon found her way to his bathroom where she showered and dressed. Blue jeans and a white wife beater tank that worshipped the soft curves of her body the same way Julian did. The dark lengths of her hair were left to hang on her back. As she headed for the door she paused to pull on her brown leather jacket, finally replaced, and boots. The keys to the apartment went into a pocket. She’d sworn to Moore that she wouldn’t disappear, and every night she and his keys returned without fail. And every night he rewarded her greatly for her dedication, returning it with diligence of his own.

The hunger pains in her grew, diminishing the raging lust only slightly as she hit the street. She needed to feed - had been holding off on doing so for too long already. The last time her body had met Moore’s and their breaths had fallen in sync, a perfect rhythm, it had been an almost uncontrollable urge. She’d bitten her lip and tasted her own blood instead. It wasn’t the blood she wanted but it quelled her desire for his. Just long enough to shudder a final time (or two) without hurting him. Now there was a trickle of anxiety for his safety in her veins. The ever present feeling of fear within as that bestial self churns deep and begs to be free; to feast upon blood.

Her hand took a scroll of teleportation from her pocket and unrolled the small paper, Rhiannon read the words scribed upon it and the world vanished once more, reforming a human heartbeat later in the darkness behind the station. On the other side she could hear the sound of buses and taxis and a train not far off in the distance. The pulse of the living city beat on. It was the Thalia station. A safe distance from Moore’s apartment, she could hunt without fear of finding him in the darkness of an alley fighting. It was becoming almost torturous to be there as he exchanged blows; a single drop of his blood frenzied a beast within her. An animal she fed with a physical, unchaste substitution.

He had devoured her innocence. She now fed them both with what he’d left behind.

Rhiannon made her way through the shadows lithely, the cold air of the night biting at her face but she didn’t let it sway her. She needed to feed. It couldn’t be put off anymore. Tonight she had to find prey or this would be the first night that she didn’t return for Moore.

[Moore]

Moore felt smothered.

He could feel the beast within him thumping at the walls built by his mind. He could feel the thrum of need and want stroking beneath his flesh like a lover's caress; throttling him and thrusting him forth. He could recall the other times such a thing had happened. He could recall the faces of those he had pinned beneath his weight and eviscerated only to feast upon.


Men separate their lives into bits and pieces; hours, days. Ah, but wolves, they kill and eat. When they have a rabbit they eat the rabbit. As for man? They cut them; call it bones, meat, fur and guts. They never have enough. All the while Moore lives within the now and aches when the hunger calls upon him, and the truth was, was that he could not forbid such a thing.

It was nigh like a whisper pressing upon his mind then and there. He could catch the sound of his own mind mocking him and damning him both. How could he forbid his hunger? Forbid the wind to blow past your den then or even the grass to grow within the earth. He has as much right.

He needed to sate his hunger.

That's what had brought him here of all places. Somewhat close to home, and yet, far enough. He needed to feast upon someone before that hunger turns upon the one he truly cared for and that was undoubtedly Rhiannon; the woman who had begun to steadily change him. She's the one that he could not tear from his mind. She's the one that fills him throughout with need and want. He could never stop thinking of her, truly. Addicted was the word that would come to mind when his thoughts came to her. Truly, though, who could blame him?

Then he found her.

She was ripe and supple. He could taste her upon his tongue and that musky perfume of hers; he could catch the scent of her clean flesh and even cleaner blood. She was not sullied by alcohol or intoxicants; no drugs of any sort. She was young, too, and that made his groin ache and mouth salivate with that growing hunger. He couldn't explain the sudden bestial feeling then and there; the sudden overtaking of his body as his gait became that of a wolf on the prowl.

He could not yet see her but he could smell her. He could feel her scent enveloping him; taking him and smothering him. He could feel the heat of his body and the ache beneath his flesh as his muscles ripple and beckon him to release what he was unto the world.

...all the while that young blond woman sauntered along...

Oh, so little did she know what may befall her then and there. Who would have thought? Her life had been somewhat of the normal sort. She awoke with every passing day to attend her courses and work her part time job. She'd return home and rest. This night was much the same as any other. All the while she held her messenger bag close to her side and tucked her chin toward her chest as she sought the quickest route home. Oh, so unknowing.

It's a shame Moore would not allow that to happen.

[CG Dragonfly]

Celeste hums to herself, pulling her black coat close to her slender form and turning her emerald gaze to the street beyond the alleyway for a few moments. The station a block or so away was growing noisy with the movement of the passengers from their choices of conveyance. The scents of the creatures that wander the streets faintly draw her attention before she shrugs her shoulders a fraction, stepping out from the doorway of the shop. “Some never learn…” she murmurs soft to herself as she makes her way down the sidewalk directly in the path of a young blonde woman clutching a bag near to her side. Letting her eyes settle on the shadows around the woman and then to the ones following along behind, she nods once, an almost imperceptible motion.

She hurries along to the female, bumping into her while looking ahead in simulation of trying to reach someone else. Blinking a few times after pausing next to the blonde, she brings a gloved hand from her pocket to pat the other on her shoulder as she whispers, “Sorry… thought I saw someone I recognized among the crowd coming from the station”. Celeste lets a small smile curve her full lips and quietly asks, “You live nearby? I could walk with you a ways if you like”. Half her focus moving over the individuals close to them, a few strands of her own blonde hair slips to muddle her vision briefly and she raises her fingers to draw them away.

Returning her dark orbs to the woman in front of her, she nods before murmuring, “These streets aren’t the safest you know, and sometimes wolves appear to follow the innocent red riding hoods of the city”. Making small talk with the woman as they walk, she glances behind them a few times to study the buildings around them. Celeste giggles soft at a comment of her companion, nodding while keeping a watch on their surroundings. “From my experience, most men only want to be around until they’ve gotten one thing… I’m sure you’ll have better luck than I have m’dear” she gently says, giving the blonde a knowing look and smiling.

She wishes the woman a good eve and watches her go into her apartment building, settling herself into the shadows of the stoop outside to see if the lycan had continued his hunt with the female. “Never an easy thing to build up a relationship, though those have never mattered to any in the grand scheme. Perhaps wolves are more loyal, but it seems unlikely with their wandering eyes and raging hunger. Never tame, never wild… always trapped between the worlds,” she murmurs soft to the darkness around her, a breeze bringing a shiver to her lithe figure. Celeste resists the urge to move on, still waiting and keeping vigil over the blonde. Her light voice escapes into the night air once again, “Easy prey is never to be had in a city filled with so many creatures” the glint of a razor sharp fang appearing behind crimson tinted lips.

[CG Dragonfly]

She pushes her figure away from the wall, starting off down the sidewalk as she hums to herself. Pulling her coat tight around her slim silhouette, a sigh escapes her full lips and she hurries along from the apartment building. Celeste heads to the east, each block slipping past her while she murmurs, “Never did like this side of the city”. Dark gaze studying the buildings surrounding her and up to the sky, she puffs out her cheeks before noticing the solar disk atop the ivory spire. Nodding to herself, she turns her direction to the northeast and resumes her humming.

Drawing a deep breath into her lungs, she glances to a street sign to keep track of her place on the map in her mind and nods upon seeing the matching set of Fear and 56th. She tilts her head to the left while scanning for the information going with the address before she turns to her right, nodding a slight. Heading across the street to the small well almost hidden by the grass and flowers, Celeste smiles soft and settles down to the left of it. “A quiet eve for most, would you enjoy the peace I wonder or would you crave the bloodshed of others,” she murmurs soft to the one hidden nearby, plucking a rose carefully from a bush.

She twirls the bud between her now ungloved fingertips slow and lets her pale lids slip down to conceal emerald, enjoying the silence surrounding her even with a known presence close to her. Releasing a small sigh as she lowers her head, a few whispered words escape to the night before she returns her focus to the present. Feeling a faint pain in the pad of her fingers, she blinks quickly and rests the rose down in her lap to examine the swelling of her crimson essence upon her own flesh. “Means nothing…” she quietly says and places the rosebud in her pocket.

Getting up from the ground and dusting off the back of her coat, she curtsies low to the well along with the companion of it. Rising up once more, she turns to the southeast and strolls down the sidewalk, each block a blur as she hums soft. Celeste reaches a third story apartment building on Jaded and 71st, nodding her appreciation to the doorman while she steps inside and walks forward over the soft carpeting of the lobby to the elevator. Slipping on, she smiles to the man waiting there before turning her attention to the highlighted numbers.

Celeste slides her fingers into the pockets of her coat to draw out her keys, bouncing a little from front to back in impatience to reach the top floor. Exiting the elevator once the doors smoothly open, she murmurs her thanks and heads for the only other door on the penthouse level at the end of the hall. She brings her keys out of her pocket and sways the ones not in her direct grip for a brief second before unlocking her door. Stepping inside and closing the door behind her, she sighs soft.