Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Summer Soiree: Vampire Party [open]

The fire didn’t go out, but it dimmed, just a little. Like it realized it had competition. The kind that didn’t arrive with fanfare or heralds, but with the quiet pressure of something ancient stepping into a room built by children. The air changed. Not colder, not louder. Just… heavier. And then Gypsy Winters stepped onto the sand, boots first, the heels sharp and high, laced up her thighs like a predator dressing for the hunt. The skirt was short, too short for someone who ruled anything but a strip club, and the cropped sweater clung to her shoulders in soft, heathered gray, like some sweet, harmless afterthought. Fishnet sleeves kissed her arms, and her long hair, platinum with hints of colour hung loose, and moved like silk in the breeze. Blood trailed down her right hand in lazy lines, still wet, still warm, still bleeding out from the person standing guard as she arrived in this place. She hadn’t bothered to clean it. She never did.

She didn’t hurry. She didn’t strut. She moved. Like gravity had shifted around her, and the sand simply adjusted to accommodate her weight. Vampires cleared out of her path like they didn’t want to be caught breathing her air. The newer ones didn’t recognize her face, not at first. But they recognized the feeling. That cold-sweat instinct that whispered, You’re not the most dangerous thing here anymore.

Her gaze swept the crowd once, uninterested, until it landed on a black-haired girl standing just a little too close to Julien. Gypsy paused. Tilted her head. Took in the scent of old ego, healing flesh, and false importance. First she was curious what in the world Julien was doing here. Then her eyes slid over to his bride, about to command both of them. But then she heard Lydia’s comment. The girl, Jade, was turned away from him as if it was a dare. Like she thought her voice meant something in the presence of the Queen’s personal blade.

Gypsy smiled. Not sweet. Not cruel. Just tired of being unimpressed. And the air shifted as Gypsy stepped directly infront of Jade, massive power flowing deadly through a frame nobody believed was literal pure evil. “I don’t know you,” She said softly, almost innocently, stepping forward, each word measured like piano keys under her heel. “That’s already a problem.”

She let her eyes drag slowly down Jade’s throat, hunger in her eyes, up to the sigil behind her ear. Clan-branded. Laughable. Gypsy rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “You tried to flex on him,” She said, chin tilting toward Julien. “And now you’re standing there like you’re owed something. Bold.”

She stepped closer, just once. Close enough that the blood on her hands could’ve touched the girl’s dress. Close enough that the ice from Gypsy’s body felt like the kind that burns. Her hand lifted, graceful, deliberate, and she pushed her hair back behind one ear, leaving a smear of red across her cheekbone like a crown worn sideways. “Let me make something clear, sweetheart,” She said, voice velvet-wrapped and sharp enough to carve bone. “I don’t give a damn who you belong to. That tattoo? That little family crest? That laughable excuse for loyalty? I’ve eaten older things for breakfast.” Her smile deepened, slow and unblinking. “And if you ever speak like that again to what’s mine…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to.
Her silence said more than any threat could. It coiled in the space between them, daring the air to breathe wrong. And then, Gypsy stepped past her. Just like that. Dismissed her with her back. She didn’t wait for a reply. She didn’t care if one came. Her attention was already drifting elsewhere, like the girl had never been worth it in the first place, and as casually as if she were in her castle, “Julien, find me a drink before I decide which one to start with. And someone tell me why I’ve left the Angel in my bed for this?”

OOC: Jade doesn't have a clan tattoo, also known as a "cattle brand" because Jade is not cattle.

Additionally, the chair, the canopy and firepit are Jade's. She's not walking into anyone's space.

Just some small clarification.

OOC: It seems a nerve was struck so allow me -

1. No one called Jade's sigil a "cattle brand" nor did they call her cattle. Jade introduced the fact that she had a mark and was "clan property". The "tattoo" comment was an assumption based off of only visual knowledge. Gypsie did call it a "clan brand" which does not necessarily mean a burn, only that they are marked.

2. Nowhere in any post referring to the chair, fire pit, or ice chest was it acknowledged to be or claimed by Jade. However, Lydia and Gypsie were not referring to Jade approaching a specific location - they were referring to Jade's proximity to Julien's personal space. He just happened to be checking on the... (is she dead? This isn't clear either) girl.

This is supposed to be a fun event. Vampires are catty and snarky but please know that all posts are meant to entertain and challenge our writing. They are not meant as personal attacks on anyone.

No nerve struck really.
My fault here I'm afraid. I missed Jade adding in the mark to her description. When we discussed the mark in private messaging I said that it was a mark used for identifying property and slaves. Jade added it on the fly, adapting the concept, and I missed it. My apologies.

This is the quotation where all the props were introduced as belonging to Jade.

"One of the Black Clan's herd of mortal hopefuls, Tryst had laboured hard in order to drag everything from the black SUV across the sands to the place that Jade had chosen for herself and assembled the canopy and sling chair and the fire pit.
"Tryst was clearly dead, two glistening red holes proudly and prominently displayed upon her neck were an obvious indication as to her demise."

Said twice in one sentence, in addition to a prior reference to staring off blankly at nothing. Demise, in particular, is a stronger, more emphatic synonym denoting significant finality.




Generally, in human terms, this is basically, this is the equivalent of going to the beach, laying out your stuff and returning from the vendor stand to find an attractive looking man(*?) going through your garbage because Tryst is, effectively, garbage.


*Forgive me if I missed it but I don't see Julien's beach attire described so I'm making a simple assumption that he looks generally "good" based off his profile page.