One Night Only < Arsenic >

[Josef Monroe]

Music. The one thing that seemed to give him any joy in the modern world.

As a veela, he had begun to entertain the masses as a singer in a band he had begun in Berlin after he moved from the Serbain estate. He toured so often that he had gained quite the following. His name was the wanton need that clung to the lips of tens of thousands. No one had any clue of his blood when under the flashing lights on the stage.

Hell, sometimes he did too.

Inside the muggle club, a crowd was growing, clad in shades of black and flashes of glitter with the silvery trails of cigarette smoke. Black eyeliner and bleach blonde hair, platform boots and chains were gathering at the base of the stage set up in front of a wash of scarlet lights. Industrial clubs were his choice of venue, nearly always. The style was a welcome break from the order and rigor of the Aurors and provided the need he built up to perform.

The lights in the club dimmed as the emcee welcomed everyone to the sold out venue. Backstage, Sef ran his hands down the white suit he chose for the venue. What was it with veela and the color white? Perhaps it was something of the way the light could turn it into an almost etherial glow and add to the draw to gaze upon them. That was why their hair was so pale, after all. It drew people to look into their eyes and fall into their hold. Then the grace would ensnare them and all anyone could bring themselves to do would be to stay within that gaze as long as they could.

The crowd began to grow louder, snapping Sef from his reverie and the spotlight swivled and pointed to the stage enterance, coaxing him forward. The instant the male swayed from the dark and into the light, the surge of power from the crowd went through him as he was sightened and brought center stage. He moved to the stand where his microphone stood and gave a smouldering, heavy smirk to the crowd, coaxing thrilled and frenzied screaming from the muggles within the path of his gaze.

The heavy beginning of the song began after the band took their places and were ready. A hand rose and cupped the side of his microphone as his body swayed rhythmically from side to side, hips pivitoing in a manner that lured people closer.

"I don't believe in miracles
I never did
Nothing ever happens here...
So sick of it."

The voice to come from Sef's lips was alluring and as hypnotic as his stare. His eyes rolled back and slid to a close before shooting to a dancer near the stage and trailing a finger through the air at her with a seductive grin and moving to the next target.

[Arsenic Lockeheart]

The crowd bubbled with whispers and drunken whispers, a curious little spectacle because the venue didn't seem to sell alcohol. So what were the poor mortals drunk off of? He could feel a growing anticipation in the pit of his stomach, a combination of lust and hunger, spreading through his veins like smoke, warming him and relaxing every muscle against his will. He struggled to fight it, gliding through the crowd, invisible despite the fact that the humans were packed so tight he could taste their beating hearts. He somehow made his way to the very front of the stage, scanning the crowd behind and to the side of him for his rumored target.

Rumor in the Underworld had it that a crowd of unruly little vampires followed this band wherever they went, sucking on virgin necks as they went. Groupies were easy targets for fanged rebels. Despite this, Arsenic was having difficult finding them. This wasn't his usual kind of gig--he didn't like spying, but no one knew if the seethey little scum were murdering their blood dolls. He preferred slaughtering the parasites, but if not, perhaps he can enjoy the dirty rock n' roll and find a delicious morsel to snack on.

That was it--the whispers became shouts and the crowd's roar became one like the Leviathan. Crimson eyes gazed at the stage, and the stage lights all turned on to welcome...to welcome...

Son of a bitch. He was bathed in all white, caressed in pure light. He looked like a porcelain angel and he moved like one too, each step walking further into his heart and his loins. His heart matched those steps, falling in rhythm with his voice. Every cell in his body longed to reach out on stage and take that beautiful angel into his embrace, but he swallowed it all like he imagined swallowing in another type of white. Arsenic crossed his arms over his chest, a chesire like grin spreading across his lips. I take it back, this is going to be fun.

For a moment, it seemed like the albino had caught the white angel's gaze, and Arsenic stared hard into his eyes, looking through his clothes, almost as if staring into his soul. The hunter licked his lips, and thought, If you're bored I'll give you some entertainment, little angel.

[Josef Monroe]

How intriguing...

That scarlet gaze punctured through the veela's vision and a slow grin slid over the full Cupid's bow lips, causing the gleam of the black gem beneath the curve to catch the light just as his lungs filled with oxygen to finish the verse with his body flowing rhythmically against the stand of the microphone cradled between his hands as if a gleaming lover's face.

" I, I, I told you
I, I, I need to
Get, get myself into something new.”

That repeated vowel was akin to a sound of pleasure and the expression of seductive indifference on his face turned to one of pure passionate bliss causing the crowd beneath him go wild. Plays on words and sounds were a beautiful game to ensnare senses and create the need for more sounds to come from his lips.

Just then, he stopped moving, fixated on the gaze of that sole creature and his tongue passed solely over his lips as the next words slid from his voice in a velvety croon.

I offer something mystical,
Hysterical,
Dark and tantric, sexual."

Is that what you want? Blue eyes locked upon that perfect crimson gaze.

The veela’s body moved in perfect, sweet rhythm with the drum beats beneath the music. That last word coaxed pulsating pleasure through his listeners, raising the anti. The sounds of their hearts beating synchronized, driving each and every vampiric sense wild within him. Nothing tasted better than arousal thick, hot, blood. While he was no savage in his drinking, the band mates were. It was far too often that he had to come down upon them in ferocity for making things far too…well…unsavory. They were still young, but in this industry, there was no room for error. All that needed to happen was for them to choose someone with renown and lose their control. He could feel their hunger. The crowd’s hunger. It was enough to feed his growing need for tastes of flesh in tender kisses and thin rivulets of blood.

[Josef Monroe]

How intriguing...

That scarlet gaze punctured through the veela's vision and a slow grin slid over the full Cupid's bow lips, causing the gleam of the black gem beneath the curve to catch the light just as his lungs filled with oxygen to finish the verse with his body flowing rhythmically against the stand of the microphone cradled between his hands as if a gleaming lover's face.

" I, I, I told you
I, I, I need to
Get, get myself into something new.”

That repeated vowel was akin to a sound of pleasure and the expression of seductive indifference on his face turned to one of pure passionate bliss causing the crowd beneath him go wild. Plays on words and sounds were a beautiful game to ensnare senses and create the need for more sounds to come from his lips.

Just then, he stopped moving, fixated on the gaze of that sole creature and his tongue passed solely over his lips as the next words slid from his voice in a velvety croon.

I offer something mystical,
Hysterical,
Dark and tantric, sexual."

Is that what you want? Blue eyes locked upon that perfect crimson gaze.

The veela’s body moved in perfect, sweet rhythm with the drum beats beneath the music. That last word coaxed pulsating pleasure through his listeners, raising the anti. The sounds of their hearts beating synchronized, driving each and every vampiric sense wild within him. Nothing tasted better than arousal thick, hot, blood. While he was no savage in his drinking, the band mates were. It was far too often that he had to come down upon them in ferocity for making things far too…well…unsavory. They were still young, but in this industry, there was no room for error. All that needed to happen was for them to choose someone with renown and lose their control. He could feel their hunger. The crowd’s hunger. It was enough to feed his growing need for tastes of flesh in tender kisses and thin rivulets of blood.