A meeting for two?

[Jermic K. Delson]

There was a time in every vampires undead life when one had to sit, and just take in everything that was around him. However, Jermic was sitting, not relaxing. No, not relax-there was no time for that. He was reckless he needed to move, kill, and feast. This brought a smile against his pale face, wondering if he was the demon Ceven looked for beofre he changed Jermic into more of a beast. Locked in a basement for the rest of his life wasn't exsactly the funnest thing to live day by day.

Eyes the color of an amber tone, Jermic sat on a gravestone of Shawn L. Taylors-whoever the hell he was. From where he was sitting he watched the black shadows roam around form the dsitance-looking like childhood horror stories. Yes, the Boogeyman was alive, and Jermic made sure the demons gave them a full dose of that horror. He was the purest, dark angel anyone could ever succeed to be. Not once did he think of all of those light emotions, nor did he wish too. Why? He enjoyed being free, untamed and loose. Seeing that his life was just full of shackles, screaming, and hate. Frowning, Jermic stood up jumping form one stone onto a larger stone that stood taller. Frowning, he broke the top of the cross off, before he casually rested his arms, continueing his thininkg-no..not relaxing. Never.

He dressed his usual black self loving his image, that matched himself. His shirt was black, the sleeves were ripped off since the demons wished to find something to play with-such pets. His jeans were an identical black color, yet the silver he displayed gave him s little bit of color. Aisde from his bright eyes. Chains rattled on the sides of him, and his belt buckle a serpent with its fangs showing. His trench coat with no sleeves was worn-today was not a good day to be Mr. Scary demon killing Self. Maybe later, when it becomes darker, colder, and Jermic felt more twisted...kinda like his usual self. He would fall back-No time to relax. His hair spiked its usual, yet having his banes fall down some. Then there was his necklaces-in which he adored. First his chain that was close to his neck, the pendent was a firestone that looked like a blood red color yet some black filtered in the stone-symbolizing his human self. Next, a necklace that had a hooded figure, looking identical to the grim reaper with his tool was agaisnt his chest. Lastly just under the grim reaper hung a raven: its wings open, eyes a blood red color, his its beak open ready to take flight.

Looking away some, Jermic closed his amber eyes, taking the cool air little by little. It felt nothing to him, but the wind alone did feel calming-almost. Opening his eyes, still the amber color coding his eyes..Jermic stared at the distance in where the demons were. Some were starting to fight each other. Usually, Jermic would go check out the fight, yet his self was way to in a dead position to even make any of his limps move. Indifferent with the fight, he turned away noting some spirits a little ways from him. A woman, long hair, Jermic guessed a witch, was sitting infront of a stone-head down..she looked sad. Not that Jermic cared. Even if he did, what could he do? Mourn with her? Jermic refused to go to such depth for these pathetic souls. It was their fault they died, he couldn't do anything for them. Back to the fight, Jermic sighed lightly hearing the demonic language being heard not to far away. Their words sounding like wishpers almost yet..Jermic could understand them. As a brother he respected both of his bloods.

Looking down some, Jermic never felt this indifferent before. Usually he was ready to go for some fun in New York and torment those poor miserble souls, yet he found himself unable to even move...no bloodlust taking on the dark angel in him. Nothing. What was wrong with him? Was he loosing his touch?? No, that wouldn't do. He wouldn't let it. Sighing more, Jermic shook his head, while he found himself resting his head down, arms resting on the broken cross, and keepign his body still. He could be part of the statue, at first glance. Yet...Jermic refused to want this....resting moment move away-no, not relaxing! Jermic Kyle Delson never relaxs! However, he found himself wantring to at least force himself to let his black wings appear, even that did come.

[Adelia Cunnane]

Dee sat crouched in an unfamilar graveyard. Her back resting against an unfamliar stone. The air was still crisp for early spring so she brought her knees to her chest underneath her warm cloak. The bright red velvet dress she wore, that matched her bright red hair, was almost completely hidden by her cloak. Ok, bright red wasn't the BEST color to wear in this neighborhood...in the middle of the night. But she couldn't resist. Besides, hadn't she carefully made sure that all her knives were in place JUST in case?

Dee glanced up at the lonely moon. It was waning and only about half full. Even though her mind was a million miles away she instinctally was relieved that she PROBABLY wouldn't have to worry about lycans tonight. She always felt melancholy around this time of year. Around the time of her parents death. Even with her friends...what few she had, and her love....she still felt....lonely.

Her parent's familys had rejected them when they were alive, just like they rejected their daughter now. it couldn't be helped. With her powers, she was a freak to them. But she was proud of who she was and of her heritige. She sighed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She had cut it recently, so now it only hung just below the collar of her cloak, so she could keep it out of the way. When more strands came loose, she became quickly impatient, pulled a hair tie off her wrist and threw her hair up in a short quick ponytail. That was more practical anyway.

Dee froze. She was so STUPID. How could she NOT have sensed him? A vampire. A demon. Jermic. She'd met him once and he had actually done her a favor. But she knew that was rare and that he was very VERY dangerous. She thought of standing and making her presence known...but he didn't seem to notice her yet either, so she sat still and just watched.

Jermic looked....agitated. Distracted. Sometimes he sat still and others he just tore around the cemetary. She watched him break off the top of a stone cross and for some strange reason found it AMUSING. She kept her face and her feelings carefully masked and nuetrual. Jermic made her uneasy. He was half demon, half vampire and ExTREMELY unpredictable. When he turned facing her direction, she noted the expression in the brandy colored eyes. Troubled. He still didn't see her. She took note of the way he was dressed and especially his unusal necklaces. He sighed and moved restlessly before finally settling on the cross he broke before. After he was still for several minutes Dee finally crossed her arms over her knees and rested her head, keeping an eye on Jermic.

It was some time before finally did notice her. Then he surprised her again. he did nothing. He seemed to stay inside his own troubled head. Seeing as how it would be rude to do other wise, she lifted her head and stood up to lean against the tall stone behind her. She looked relaxed but every sense was on high alert.

"Good evening Jermic." her Irish voice rang out. "You look troubled tonight. not at all like your michivious self. Is there something wrong?" she did not taunt but asked with all sincerity, wondering what his answer would be.

[Jermic K. Delson]

The whispers of the demons were like whispers in the wind. They were low, whistling, and almost quick. Jermic could key in to their words were, and what was going on. He could relate to one demons anger, seeing that his race were quite territorial. Jermic would not like a brother marking into his grave tombs and going through his things without him being there. Shaking his head, Jermic tore away from the conversation.

And yet...it was the first time he took in another scent that was not his brothers. His amber coded eyes turned into a shade of bright green, while his neutral tone shifted into a curious one. When a voice rang out, his head quickly shot to where he heard it first. For a moment, his bright green eyes glanced at the shadowy beasts that were way ahead of them, then at the girl. She dared to roam his brothers lands? The thought for a moment lingered in his skull...he did wish to wonder, but than again-another time.

His body straighten upward, showing his full side on the grave. "Troubled I am not, Adelia." He finally spoke up, his tone crisp and cool. In a way, he shocked himself remembering the girl from so long ago. Then again, her name traveled around through the vampiric homeland. "I find myself thinking of the same thought as you are, my dear." He replied once more, his eyes tearing away from her in time to see a stone crack into two from a far. Frowning, Jermic shook his head again, before jumped off from his stone. To the side of him, the little witch girl cried out beside him. Jermic turned his head to Aeldia ignoring the surrounding of things. A loud night, he guessed.

Out of habit, he patted a box into his hand a couple of times, only to pull out a cigarette from it. With one ease, he lid it, and let the smoke filter into his lungs for a long moment, the smoke forced its way out of Jermics mouth and toward the half moon. He still did not answer Adelia's question, and Jermic was fully aware of that. Taking one more long puff, his trench pushed to the side, slapping his legs and side as a chill wind picked up.

"I do not think anything goes wrong. Same old shit, Same old battered cries of the wounded and ill." He told her, a grin passing his lips..enough to show his long pearled fangs. And in a sense, his eyes shifted into a vampiric hollow black...then went back to that curious brown. "I do not see many souls in my area. Only the pathetic ones that cry for savor." He motioned his head to the spirits. "I am almost pleased to find a soul worth exchanging words with. Almost, dear witch girl." Then his silence merged while his cigarette closed his mouth. Jermic could suck it all in at once, if he wanted too. Though, it wouldn't be much of a relaxer than, now would it. "And what am I ask, is a hunter witch like you doing in this neck of the woods? Don't you know this is where your nightmares come true?" He told her, a casual grin crossing his face, the same quick black hollow gaze casted passed him..this time...making it stay. Curiousity killed the cat after all..

[Adelia Cunnane]

Caffeine. It probably wouldn’t be enough to cure the wariness that now ambushed Dee completely, but as long as it was enough to stop her from collapsing in the street it would be perfect. So she headed into the coffee shop, a place which lately she had become a regular customer. Heading past the counter, Dee nodded to the now familiar waitress to make sure she was aware she was there so she could get her some coffee. Once certain that she had seen her, she turned and moved in the direction of the table that she always sat, only to find it occupied by a family which included two small children which surprised her. New York was not the place to raise your children, with all that went on here it was a wonder that these adults hadn't packed up all the contents of their homes and left for a safer destination.

Searching the room with a quick sweep of her eyes, Dee saw that there were still a lot of empty tables, but it was none of these that her eyes settled on. The name meant nothing to her - although she suspected she may have heard it mentioned once or twice on the street - but the way that the name scarred the boys arm reminded her horribly of the initials hidden under the bands she had around her wrists. Then realising she knew the boy as well - well she didn't really him, more knew of him - Dee ignored the empty seats and went straight towards Jermic instead.

"Hey. You're Jermic, right?" Even in her ears these words had sounded lame, but she could not see anything else to be said. Maybe if she had had some actual contact with Jermic before this would be a little easier. Realising that Jermic probably didn't even know who she was she quickly introduced himself. "I'm Dee... I know you from school." Pathetic, trully pathetic. Dee could kick herself for how stupid she must be sounding. She wasn't even completly sure why she had chosen to come embarrass herself like this. Sure Jermic had scars that were slightly similar to hers, but that meant nothing. Any thought that had gone through her head about maybe her having something in common with this boy was stupid. Jermic was more likely a disturbed teen rather then a witch... She had never heard anything about him being one.

But then again. It wasn't as if she let on to anyone that she was one. She hid all of her scars, and carried a minimal amount of weapons with her. The way she dressed during the day was not the way that any witch would dress. In fact, what Jermic was wearing was more likely what a witch would wear then the lighter colours that would stand out so easily in the dark that Dee had. And that scar. Dee could not get the scar out of her mind.

Spotting what Jermic was reading, Dee decided to test him. If he was just a normal teenager then Dee should be able to find out easy enough. "Pretty crazy stuff, ey?" She said this while nodding towards the newspaper. "Does anyone actually expect us to believe that?" She watched Jermic carefully, not wanting to miss anything that would tell her who he really was.

((Damn it! This is so crap!! Sorry...))

[DepTh]

(( *chuckles* I really like this post and the fact that it has nothing to do with the thread. But I'm gonna move it to Times Square as a beginning post...then post back when I get from the doctors. It wasn't crap, it shall be fun. =) *huggles*

Its gonna be called, Bad Magick. ))