With that eerie silence he stood. His bony white hands cuffed acrimoniously in front of him. His eyes stay on the tracks, not daring to look up into another’s eyes. So, silently in the shadows he hid. No one around him bothered to offer him a light as he pulled the cigarette out, partly for none saw him. But after minutes of searching he found a plain silver light. So insipid it was as it stayed ceremoniously in his palm as he continuously flicked it on and off… searching for the right amount of conflagration. Moments later he brought it to the crumpled cigarette. Pinching it he brought it to his lips and drew in the invigorating smolders, and let the smoke rest in his dead lungs. So damp it was he was nearly surprised that whatever heat had possessed the ashes at the end of the neatly turned paper was strong enough to keep it burning. But no expression crossed his lifeless features. Just soberness as he accordingly brought the cigarette, to and from his lips.

Smoke tendrils billowed up from his thin lips, as it would almost seem as if he was waiting for a loved one. But all his interest was sent toward the mortals around him. Analyzing those mortals, he watched and watched for one that would catch his interest.

Watching, he tried to figure out why they where going there, or, why they where leaving from here. If they where going home to their families, for maybe dinner… to play with their children. Or if they where leaving their families for work, or for another man or woman. But when one (And this he previously decided) caught his interest, he would follow it, stalk them, until the time was right for him to feed. And when this would happen, he would go home… hopefully before dawn, and sleep.

ooc
Horribly short, but I'm a tad put out on this site

ic

Her presence was, unnecessary, and probably ostracized.

But there she was, perturbing another’s hunting grounds with her foul aura, bringing in the stench of cynicism and keen judgement.

The lovely, opposed to hiding in shadows, per say, sat haughtily on a bench, with rather close proximity of the other. Her tactic was… different. Rather, she’d be the one being stalked by a mortal at the end of the night, than vice versa. Oh, the naivete.

Such confidence was enough to make one gain a headache. Such confidence was which usually ended in success.

The darkling wore a headset, more because, waiting was a bore, and music tended to speed up time. No?

(Mines not that good, I am just trying to get my post up so... yeah...)

His eyes traveled toward her, but he let no possible resentment pass over his features. He resented all others. Perhaps all other resented him? He chastely ran his tongue over his lips. What a long night this had been. Why was it the city he had decided to hunt? Well, of course it was the wide variety of verity prey. He liked the pure prey, and possibly he liked feeling the blood of truth pass through his veins. Whatever the purpose of inhumanity, he would always want to feel innocent afterwards. The noise from the headphones caught his attention… but once again he paid no attention. No one would follow someone like Mabius home…. Or whatever you would call it. No one would, not even another like himself. His silence tended to make people feel awkward… not all the time but most of the time, especially with humans.

Mabius had not personal distaste in music. Although he favors rock music most of all, he would make it known.

She felt that slight…unpleasant, feeling she was being watched.

The feeling passed eventually, while she found her presence wasn’t much of a threat to the other. She did, ofcourse, lessen his chances of grabbing a meal, that is. But other than stating the obvious, she had appeared there, too, for easy, and more accessible, pickings.

She rolled back her neck a bit, stretching while pressing into the chair with an arched spine, then ventured a stare in the other’s direction. My, he looked hungry.
Well, she couldn’t exactly do anything about that, could she? Pity.

The roar of the rushing metal echoing on white tile welcomed a pale <i>man</i>, or so what appeared to be man by the mortal eye, as he descended the steps. His eyes were casted down, focused on the bright yellow card board envelope he hastily opened to peek at his pieces inside. Jonah's forefinger flipped through each finger, examining them each with adoration. It wasn't until the bitter scent of trespassers wafted into his nose, that he closed the envelope and looked up.

His white face was set in a look of distate as he scanned the crowded area, trying pick them out...and there they were.. One was on the bench the other, slightly concealed. To those that were walking corpses it easy identifying others, they stuck out like a sore thumb. If your eye was trained, as it is after about a decade or so of escaping the grave, you can almost see those that are, for lack of better words, burnt out, their glow having left them as soon as they lost their grasp of life.

He stepped down from the last step, and began his weave through the herd of living, slowly making his approach to the others. The subway had been burdened with the residence of only one vampire for so long, he had gotten use to it, and now there was a flow of newly arriving Tarepha, making themselves right at home and now these ones? His eyes narrowed, still slowly pushing through.

The subway train screeched to a halt. As each creature filed out from it, one lept from the roof. Dorian descended rapidly to the floor from his prior perch on top of the metal cage. The subway was a food cart, just waiting to be plundered. The slender man--attired in black--passed under the chain blocking the maintenance steps, and pushed open the gate. Stepping onto the porcelain tiles of the subway terminal, the soles of his boots echoed off into the distant to drown with the noise of the hurrying crowd.

Dark tinted glasses concealed his eyes, an the cold blood of centuries buried underneath them. There were others around, all of the same, but irreverently invading on feeding grounds. Sharing was never a strong suit in Dorian's personality.

He angled his head, peering directly at a congregation of two undeads, and then a third member of the undeads that descended from neighboring stairs. As he turned his neck back straight from a converse tilt his neck cracked.

The sudden explosions of nocturnal beings was odd. Feeding grounds were being monopolized, with each a different coven. This small region was already occupied with three others like Dorian. He sarcastically hoped no one was territorial.

Jonah seemed to disappear in the flow of the living, simply having ceased his steps as he scowled under breath, another stench had tickled him. This had been Jonah's terf it seemed even before his bloody death..which ironically was in the very depth of the these very train tunnels. Now all of a sudden others felt they were obligated to flock here, like it was a resort. Grounds were shakey here..Jonah hadn't the patience for even a potential of irritation, and frankly he was just as fond of the blood of the dead as the that that ran warm from a fresh kill.

His eyes, still narrowed, casted a predatory glare about trying to locate the newest corpse.

The stare radiating from the third undead that had just entered was a signal for a challenge in Dorian's eyes. His glasses were removed, and tucked into his pockets. His eye instantly flared, crimson red filling his iris' as his pupil shunk to a small pin size.

Was this one who carelessly glared around the owner of this territory, or was he just another one wanting it for a feeding ground. Dorian had neither patience or calmness to let a glare such as Jonah's go unreturned.

A roar erupted from his position, one of mixed sounds. Low and raspy, but fulled as if gargling on blood. It echoed off the walls, and even beat out the departing metal food frigate. It would signal the congregation of the other two, but it was directed at the one who dared defy the pride of Dorian.

Almost all of the humans froze at the sound, some scurried away, fearing for what they didn't know of. Others loafed about confused, not knowing what was happening. The closest of the mortals froze dead in his tracks, eyes wide with terror, and mouth slightly agape as he stared to the flaring double fangs of Dorian.

The human fell quicky in sea of blood. A swipe of Dorian's taloned hand brougth the tide of crimson, splattering it to the neighboring wall an a continua artierial spray doused the floor. Dorian picked up his roar again, dark veins pulsed with a sudden flush of tempermant. The man who had been slit, staggered and gagged and fell into a slump against the wall, only to be forcefully pushed half way to Jonah by Dorian. The body lay sprawled on the floor, now broken in multiple locations, as well as blood collecting around it.

The field of humans broke into a craze. Running in unpredictable directions while others filed in only to turn and dart away at the stomach-churning sight. Dorian roared once again as a final act of defiance before he let Johan start his own rave of retaliation.

Her head pivoted towards the noise, deriving it to it's owner, eyes dilating to nearly black ovals where a deep, purring hiss touched the back of her throat. Was Adrea getting defensive?

The rampant footsteps clammered about her in a confused array, arms flailing and screams throwing the walls into echoing epiphanies.

Oh shit, there went her meal. Forget subtle. That vamp just broke every damn rule about moving in stealth. Here she hoped she'd gain a meal, now she doubted it would happen at all that night, also berating herself for the none other than unmethodical, illy crossed path she choice for hunting grounds.

Damn the add ons.

She watched with remote control of suddenly pissed off emotions, letting slip every possible fragment of human aliment run off in random directions.

Not a glance was offered to the two others, just on the rouge one, who sent an extra streak of impudence to run through cold veins.

"And what the blasted... just what the /hell/ are you doing?" She said slickly, though voice was on the barrier of busting out in contortions of anger.

In that moment the terminal pulsed with the beat of the frightened hearts of those who fled, some up the stairs and some in anyway direction that they believed would deliver them from this newly rised madness. In an instant one idiot vampire had shattered any guarentee of his after life... The codes belonging to the gifted had been assualted in the worst degree, and within Jonah's subway...this wasn't happening.

Jonah tilted his head back, a loud groan of irritation before his head lolled forward once more and shook briefly. Again a glare was shot towards the other Tarepha. It was too late now for precautions, if the Amman wanted to debate it, then damn them. Jonah moved quickly, his pace blured as if a remote had specifically selected him for fast forward. The Tarepha head was standing before Dorian, a pallid hand hastely planted with firm grip on the man's throat.

He leaned forward whispering in a raspy hiss, the anger having engraved a snarl into the notes of Jonah's voice. "In that one display you waved a white flag high and clear above your head, and I am hear to accept your invitation upon your life.. This is my turf and it shall be decored with your head.." He drew back his head revealing a face contorted into something that could only be painted by fury. A fying knee collided with the man's lower abdomen, as now both hands held fast.


(*Ahem* I'd like to kindly point out the rules of MY coven which you are expecting to be accepting into..I'm afraid that these were broken by your character and Jonah is very low on tolerance... :)

The laws of our coven are few in number, but rather to the point. To disregaurd one of the laws will be considered an act of mutiny. The lack of more numerous of rules, by which to obide, is for a simple reason. We, the Tarepha, are the slaughterers and madmen of our gifted kind and live by our own rules.


-Non-coven members are not welcome within the Tarepha's main tunnels.
-Giving a mortal our gift is only to be performed with the consent of the Tarepha Leader.
-Mutiny commited against the coven results in a punishment of execution or by other means seen as fit.
-The leader of the coven is obliged to add or subtract further restrictions/rules as he pleases.
-Arise trouble with Amman kind and be on your own.
-My coven shall not be dragged down by an Amman angered by your misdeeds)

[ OOC ] He's new, and knows no one. So therefore he doesn't know who's in the Taphera and what the rules are. He just finds this place favorable and knows there are other undeads around. Though I suspect a reprecution, not death. A defiance of a leader, though through impudence, should be punished. I think he should get a beating of some sort, flogging or whatever, while being told the rules of the coven, not death, though I can't really make that judgement for you. Plus it's really not mutiny, he's only being a show off amongst unknown bretheren. I'll post after I find out the judgement.

((ooc: that's all really great, and once again seeing how you were signing up to be Tarepha and I am the leader of that coven which is well known for being quite beastly, I am given the privelage to sentence you with the punishment my character deems fit. Now the stunt your character pulled is a threat to all vampires and in Jonah's eyes is cause enough for execution.. :) so kindly just get along with your post, I'm not in the least bit amused with you :) )