No flames, no whips, no horned tyrant under the name of Satan. Though to anyone not of the coven in these parts, they would consider it hell. Demons lurking in the stinking tunnels, carcasses of their own kind and that of mortals scattered and tattered.

Strewn across the grimed floor, were pictures..pictures that to any normal mortal showed the most grotesque scenes ever. Straight out of a nightmare. PIctures of a beautiful girl, smiling and laughing as a train passed behind her, and then the same girl but as a mere puddle and what you could call scraps and crumb on the metro rail. A picture of an adolescent girl smiling sweetly on a park bench and then in a dark room, her clothes stained with blood and her neck gashed on the side and yet she remain alive and screaming.... There were more..a couple, a little boy, a young woman (or atleast it might have been a woman) mutilated and laying in a bathroom cubicle. And who flaunted these disturbing photos?

Why he lay, not too far off from the orgi of pictures, flipping through a smaller deck of six photos. To him all of these were his works of art, each one beautiful to him and each one very tasteful. The ones he held in his hands were his recent masterpiece..the death of innocense to tempation of sin..

Shannon gave a small shake of her head, watching hi mfrom the shadows of the tunnels, her crimson eyes locked on him ,though holding something... Something more than death, more than hate... it was hard to describe, though she had always had this look in her eyes, even before she was one of them, before she could even remember. She lifted a finger and tucked her hair behind her ears, stepping frmo the shadows, still watching him though.

She was wearing her normal atire of clothing, her black skirts, coming down to her mid-thigh, knee high boots and a crimson strap top. not many asked why she dressed like this, and if they had asked, she wouldnt have just said, She felt comfortable in them. her hair lay down, cascading down her back, looking like a dark waterfall. She gave another shake of her head, her eyes running over the pictures that littered the ground...

"What is it with you and these pictures...?" She asked softly, her voice no more than a whisper for some unknown reason.

The soft sound of the pictures sliding against eachother as he shuffled through them ceased and he allowed himself a side glance. Been awhile since he'd seen another of his coven down here, the only company was that of the putrid carcasses.

"Art work... Each and eery one a work of pure art." Unlike her his voice was at the normal tone, perhaps even louder in a mocking way to show that nobody was there to cause reason for whispering.

Her eyes continued to look at the pictures, a small smile coming onto her face as she looked at them, giving a small shrug, glancing back at him.
"If you can call mutilation a work of art..' She said, her smile growing into a small grin. She brushed her hair from her face again, glancing around, grimacing slightly from the smell that always surrounded the tunnels.

"O but I can and I do.. Its all my art." He shuffled through the small deck of six photos once more before laying them on the ground and raising to his feet. His brown hair framed his face, some strands falling infront of his eyes of pale green.
"..And who are you? I certainly haven't seen you in the city before.."

She smirked and watched him. "My name is Shannon..." She said softly. "I came here not long ago with my maker... Though he was killed...' She said, looking at the flor slightly, though brushed her hair back from her face, looking back up at him after a few seconds. 'And you are Jonah I do believe?'

He smirked and bowed, one arm extended in front the other held behind his back. "M'dear you are correct. Who else could I be?" He spoke in a voice woven with a chuckling note. "Did well to figure things out before coming here.."

He stood to his full stature now, turning on his heel and pocketing his fists, walking slowly to where a ray of white lunar light shown through one of the gutters from the above street. The beam was similar to a spotlight on him as he stood in it and looked up through the gutter that dribbled water. He cocked his head back and looked back to the girl. 'Heh, my maker is long since dead... His corpse probablly lays further down the tunnels, stll rotting, still smelling.."

She gave a small nod, though didnt actually say anything, her head bowed towards the floor now. It was slightly obvious she was thinking, what about though, was hidden. She gave another small cough looking back up, her mind wandering off again.... She shook her head after a few minutes, looking back to Jonah. "You dont seem to care much..." She said softly.

He chuckled, shook his head, and waved a dismissing hand. "Its not that I don't care. My gratitude to him only went so far..Well far enough to do him a favour when he had become a miserable excuse to the coven. Like an old dog he was..became unfit and then unfit to hunt for himself." Jonah smirked and sighed. "Here..you feed yourself unless you're a newborn, I'm not going to baby anyone in my coven."

She gave a small nod, thinking over his words. "I see.." She said softly, though gave a small cough, glancing around. "I am perfectly capable of hunting for myself.. and killing for myself.. I have never needed anyone's help, even when I was a new-born.."

"Good, because help will be a rarity here. We're the scum of the nocturnal society..others look down on us like we are animals. Amman will take any opportunity to come at us and if someone in this coven endagers the rest of us, they're on their own, possibly even thrown to the feet of the enemy." It was true, they both lived as the beasts, cannibalistic animals who, in the other's eyes, have no pride.

She nodded again, glancing around yet again, so many memories, so many different thoughts, it just wasnt right. So many times had she been scorned by others, just because of what she did to her victims... She shook her head. "I know.." She said with a sigh, looking at him.

He smirked and nodded. "Good! Then there are no problems and should be none. Shall we eat?" He invited as he crossed to one of the fresher bodies, clamy and wet though still a bottle of wine, you could say. He picked up two cups laying carelessly on the ground, both black with age and chipped, having once been a fine pair in white china but then disgaurded in the trash.

Jonah squatted down to the body biting into the neck and then withdrawing, lifting the corpse to let the flow of blood fall like rain into the glasses.

She just watched him, saying nothing, the state of the body or the cups not relaly bothering her at all. She glanced around, then back at him. She seemed to quiet, which was very unlike her, she normally always had something to say... Though today was different... very different.