milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Damian wasn't surprised to find himself alone by the time night fell. Whoever chose to be in Nathaniel's bed near dawn was usually up and about long before he rose with the setting sun.

Now, however, he has taken to the grounds surrounding Milliways... or, more accurately, the skies. Usually he isn't keen on levitating where he can be easily spotted, but the desire to feel the wind in his hair is too much to ignore tonight. It is one thing that reminds him a little of the sea, though the air doesn't have that salty density to it. The sea has been a comforting thought throughout his long existence, even though he hasn't more than glanced it in centuries.

He loses himself in the sensation of flight, letting his mind go blissfully numb for a short while before picking an inviting, sturdy tree and sitting high in the branches so he sways lightly with the pulse of the wind.

Escapism can be a wonderful thing sometimes.

He's botherable by those who can climb well (or don't need to climb in order to reach him). He has no intention of coming down from his perch.

[[ooc: Primarily slowtimes, as the mun has an appointment and a worsening cough... plus homework. Slowtimes welcomed! ^^]]

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She considers this.

"Yes, it does," she finally says, in a voice that's almost husky with something unidentifiable, an ancient sound that...doesn't sound so ancient. It's alive, and impeccably human, although older than she looks. "Your eyes are striking."

Those eyes are drawn back to Kida at that compliment, and the weight of them is more intense than before. They are entrancing, his eyes, a vibrant emerald hue containing a subtle seductive pull, a weight that is not human.

"What is your name?" Damian asks, his voice soft with a sensual lilt.

"Kida," she answers, opting just to give the shortened version. The long one tends to make people stare.

Unlike most people here, though, she doesn't automatically slide out to the end of her branch to offer her hand, merely inclines her head a little, still watching his eyes. "And yours?" His voice is pretty, lilting.

"Damian," he all but purrs, tilting his head in an appealing way.

She doesn't have to offer her hand, because he does it instead, reaching an overly pale hand down to her. His voice is smooth as silk, luxurious and palpable in its persuasion. "Come join me, Kida."

She takes the hand, so pale against her own, and slides forward towards him, still cautious, but intrigued now.

"If you like," she says softly, fearless even this high above the ground. "Your hands are very cold," the woman notes; she's from someplace much warmer, evidenced by the lack of much clothing.

Damian doesn't mind the lack of clothing. Not at all.

He pulls her up to his small set of branches, giving up his spot against the trunk for her. She doesn't seem uncomfortable with the height, but being near the more steady centre of the tree gives the illusion of safety.

"It is in my nature to be cold when I am hungry," he tells her while maintaining the eye contact so crucial to his vampiric powers. Anita's voice sounds in his head, reminding him that she must be willing and not without a choice due to his powers, and he forces himself to take a small mental step back. She will know precisely what he is and what he plans to do before giving or withholding consent.

Kida raises a brow at that with a smile, blinking at the noticeable step back. "And what are you hungry for?"

She doesn't mind the height, no, and relaxes into a crouch at moving closer to the center of the tree, anklets clinking as she moves very slender, but very powerful legs. "Company, or something else?"

Damian's lips quirk up into a very slight smile. "I do not mind company," he says, forcing himself to pull back a bit of the seduction, though it is still there in his tone. "I hunger for what all vampires hunger for."

She smiles.

"There are no such things, in my city...but if you will tell me, I might sate that." She's interested, and likes the way he speaks, already.

His own smile neither broadens nor dissipates. He will have to explain more than usual, but if it ensures a meal, he can't say he minds the effort. He can smell that she is human, or something close enough to suffice, and that will be better than what Bar can provide him.

"Vampires are what some call the undead, humans caught in the grey area between life and death. We are creatures who primarily exist in darkness, and blood is what sustains us. Some of us are powerful enough to feed on lust or fear, but all vampires need blood. It is blood that warms our skin and helps us more closely resemble humans..." He pauses, his eyes a swimming green for a couple seconds. "It is my thirst for blood that I would have you sate, if you are willing."

She digests this, for a moment, and nods.

"I am willing, to sate that..." she murmurs, looking up, her own eyes a deep sea-blue, striking against her skin, with the almost glowing tattoo on her cheekbone. "Assuming you do not mean to kill me?"

He raises a hand, and the cool skin of his fingertips brushes along the pattern of the light tattoo. "Ah, but such a waste that would be." The seduction is back in full force, his hunger becoming more acute with her consent.

"I will not kill you, Kida. You will be tired, lethargic for a day or two, and the mark I leave will take time to heal completely. As for the bite itself," he croons, his fingers moving from cheek to jaw, and finally to her neck. The steady pulse there makes his entire being ache with need. "You will feel only pleasure."

She tilts her head, though her eyes hold his, direct and level, and curious.

"Then I consent, to that... Need we get back to the ground, or do you want to stay up here?"

Damian is perfectly capable of feeding at a height, but he doesn't want to have to catch her if she swoons at the wrong moment.

"The ground is safer for such an exchange." With that, he sits upright and begins climbing down, more than a little eager. He could just levitate them both down, but instinct has always told him to keep that skill to himself when possible.

She follows, after watching him for a moment, picking and falling from branch to branch with a fluid grace and an apparent lack of fear, until she drops to the ground and straightens from her crouch there, blinking up at him.

Damian would be able to scent fear on her, and her lack of it, along with her fluid agility, makes his need all the more acute.

He barely keeps himself from sinking fang into her right then, swallowing dryly instead to voice one more question. "Where do you reside here in Milliways?"

"I do not have a room here," she says. "I rarely stay more than a day at a time..."

Kida smiles. "But I shall ask for one, if you would prefer. I have been meaning to."

He nods his understanding. He'll see to it that she gets a room and is able to rest comfortably. She is accommodating his needs, so he can accommodate hers for a night.

"Come to me, Kida," he softly commands, an arm raised to welcome her closer.

She does, stepping nimbly into the curve of his arm, looking up at his eye. They're pretty, alluring, and like nothing she has ever seen.

"You ask, and I come," she murmurs, less cautious now, and more curious.

Damian wraps his arm around her, and her dark skin feels incredibly warm to his chilled arm. All sensation seems heightened in his anticipation, and he gathers them close so their bodies are touching.

Such a juxtaposition they are... her pale hair and dark skin to his ashen skin and night-darkened locks. Her heat to his cold. Her life and softness to his death and stone-like presence.

Fingers slide through her hair to the other side of her neck. His eyes swim in a striking green, the pupils lost to a sea of colour as he tilts her neck and leans down to it.

He noses her metal earring away, cold lips pressing along her skin in a caress close to a kiss.

The chill doesn't frighten her; it is alien, and she isn't sure what sensation it could really be called, but interesting. When he leans down to her neck, cool lips brushing against her skin, her heartbeat picks up, making her pulse jump at the unexpected touch.

But she stays in his one-armed embrace, feeling quite safe here, despite what she knows he is about to do. Perhaps it is that the act is such an unknown concept to her, but all she can see is a glimpse of his pale skin, nearly the color of her hair, and a few locks of white and dark red, mixed together where her long bangs brush his hair.

"I will not faint, or run," she whispers, confident that he is close enough to hear her fine. "You may do what you wish."

Her trust and confidence are intoxicating, and he inhales deeply at her neck. It is what he scents under the blood that pulls a soft, anticipatory moan from him.

"You smell of the sea," he breathes against her neck, but there is no time for a response as he sinks his fangs into her. His magic rolls through her as crimson pours into his waiting mouth, and he covers all discomfort and pain with pleasure.

His other hand finally establishes contact, supporting her hip as he swallows thickly again and again.

"I live...in Atlantis," she manages softly, eyes slipping shut under the roll of unanticipated pleasure the bite, to her, creates. It's nice, and one hand of hers, the one not bracing her at his waist, comes up to curl in just the feathery ends of his deep red hair.

It is pretty, she thinks faintly, in a lull of the deep and blanketing sensation.

To him, her blood will be old, powerful and untouched by anything, pure as clear water.

It is a rush that he has never experienced before. She is old... ancient, and yet her blood is not that of an immortal, not even a long-lived lycanthrope. She is pure, preserved, and the fountain of her blood is potent in a way that is unfamiliar and captivating.

He moans softly, barely hearing the name of her dwelling, which gives so many answers to him all at once. Several swallows and he feels that final push that makes his heart pound to life. His skin warms rapidly, and he draws only one more mouthful before releasing the wound and allowing it to seep. He shivers against her as he licks the neat cuts left by his teeth, his flesh malleable and warm now with her blood.

The rush, the burn of her heart just underlies the current of pleasure, when she thinks about it, before it's gone again, just the pleasureable side of it roiling through her, over her, sluggish and serpentine and faintly tired, lightheaded.

"I...have never--never let anyone do that... Did it help?" she asks, leaning against him as her fingertips come away wet and red when she brushes them against her throat.