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Post by viola cervantes. on Nov 2, 2007 19:09:04 GMT -5
tag;; jacob+viola
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A word to the wise when the fire dies you think it’s over but its just begun
Rain rain go away, come again some other day. Yes, it’s true, when it rains it pours. As if it hadn’t been a hard enough day already, now there was the fully drenched aspect to compete with. The skies we’re dark, perhaps just maybe too dark for it was only 7 o’clock. But then it had been this way all day, and normally it was quite enjoyable but seeing as the umbrella she was holding had been blown out of her hands nearly 10 minutes ago, not so much For the most part the streets we’re not all that crowded. A few couples would run by stuffed underneath umbrellas 2 sizes to small to ever keep them both dry, but they didn’t seem to mind.
Enough was enough, time to get out of this weather. Ah. Perfect, a nice little coffee shop seemed like a good enough place to wait till the rain lets up or till someone turns their back on their umbrella. Running now, Viola jumped up the steps to the door, standing in the archway, just staring out. It was baffling how sometime she could miss the beauty of simply the sights around her. The tall buildings reaching up into the sky, the wind blowing fallen leaves through the air, or the colors of the gray sky. How all the shades mixed so perfectly together and blended into this modern day masterpiece. A drop of water pinged off her nose. She’d obviously been leaning out to far to get a better view.
Huffing slightly Viola pushed her tiny hands back through the silky wet blonde strands of hair, water dripping out, hitting the back of her neck and running down her jacket. Clumping all the hair to one side she rung out the excess water left. Stomping her boots of on the mat she entered. Probably she looked like quite a wreck, but then so did almost every other person in there who had sought refuge from the storm outside. Her hair laid simply flat and almost lifeless down her back. Clothes thoroughly drenched in the cold liquid dripping onto the slippery floors. A frown creased her brow, she normally made an attempt to look her best at all times, now it just seemed pointless. Sliding the jacket 3 times to big off her tiny frame, Viola took a seat near the windows. The second the rain stopped she wanted to be the first to know.
A waiter came over, nearly 30 she presumed, “Can I get a… Pumpkin Spice latte, with extra sugar please.” She smiled, not even waiting to accept the tiny drink menu he had eagerly been waiting to place in-front of her. As he quickly scribbled her order down on the tiny pad of paper stored in his fanny pack, Viola mused over the weather. Staring almost blankly outside. She felt out of place sitting there, this wasn’t exactly where a vampire would normally go, definitely not. Shuffling through her jacket pocket resting on the back of the old chair, Viola pulled out a mirror. Doing the best she could to clean up her appearance a tad. If possible she had gotten even more pale, a painful trait that came along with… Well, you know. Finally the drink came, the warmth took effect almost as soon as she held it to her pursed lips, the hot liquid sliding to the back of her throat, down, and repeat. All there was left now was to let the storm die down and stay un-noticed. |
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Post by jacob danvers. on Nov 2, 2007 22:49:48 GMT -5
{JACOB DANVERS.}
The steady pitter-patter of heavy raindrops was a comfort to some people, it represented a day – or night in this case – when you could just relax in bed and sleep the day away listening to the calming rhythm of the water gliding from the sky. This type of person also usually enjoys running out in the rain for no reason at all, just being goofy and reliving the innocence of childhood. For other people, thunderstorms like this one symbolized perilous and sinister days ahead. Luckily for Jake, he was the first type of person.
Plump and saturated rain clouds filled the sky, plummeting the usually pleasant sunset into darkness along with the rest of the town. Anything and everything that was within sight of the looming clouds was wet in some form, Jacob and his clothes were no exception. His grey Volcom shirt and dark undershirt were now fully saturated by the downpour and his brown sandals were hard to keep on his feet. Maybe he should just take them off and walk barefoot, it wasn’t like he had sensitive feet or anything, he walked around barefoot all the time. So in the middle of the vacant street, he took both flip flops off of his feet and carried them in his hands, he even had a difficult time managing them with his own two hands because of the falling rain and the water that had soaked into them. Like it or not, he was going to have to find shelter because if he didn’t, then his clothes would be ruined entirely and at this point in time, money was not his specialty.
Even though Jacob was on a partially flooded street in lighting where the normal human wouldn’t be able to see very well, he knew exactly where he was, just outside the café. Why would he know this, even with his wolf instincts to assist him? Because the Lunatic Café was one of his favorite places to be, not only was it free of those bloodsucking parasites, but it had a laid back style and it was the next best thing to home. Free of pests and free of worry, Jake took one large stride from the sidewalk onto the top step, not that hard when you’re six foot five. He then shook like a household dog would, moving his entire body back and forth, spraying water all around him, ridding his body of any loose water droplets that hadn’t managed to soak into his clothing yet. With one last shake, the dark haired male stepped into the café, fully aware that everyone would probably notice his entrance for one reason – he smelled like wet dog - wet hair was hanging loosely and quite messily, some strands going this and others that.
This stench that he gave off didn’t bother him too much, mostly because the majority of the café’s customers were shapeshifters of some sort, werewolves, werelions, weretigers, you name it, there was probably one there. His fingers were tingling lightly, an instinctive reflex to entering the shop, Jake always connected it with the way a hot cup of coffee warms your hands as you sip it. His nostrils flared and his lungs took in a deep breath, waiting for the many varieties of different pastries and coffees to fill him up, instead he got something else, something that killed the moment and brought all of his happy feelings to an end. There was a vampire present.
Blood began to pulse violently through his body and for a minute, he felt himself changing into the familiar form of the wolf, but he regained his control partially, enough to remain in human form – for now. What the hell was a leech doing here, in a place for shifters? Jake always thought that the owner should have put up a sign that read ‘NO LEECHES’ on the door, and apparently that wouldn’t have been a bad idea. His hands balled into fists and his jaw locked, eyes darting around the room once, searching for the creature that he would rip to shreds. The retched scent was coming from a booth in a window seat where the sickening creature sat, wait… Jacob felt his body relax and his human side take control. Sitting in the booth next to the window was a solitary girl, looking sullen and utterly pathetic. Her figure was remarkable, flawless like all vampires’ were, the way her hair was messy from the rain contrasted her beautiful skin. This contrast created even more beauty, in his opinion. Jacob’s legs automatically started moving towards her, but as he neared, the overly sweet scent of the vampire nearly made him gag and he moved to the booth in front of her, sliding in with his back to her, placing his insignificant wet sandals next to him. His two sides tore at his guts, one wanted to shred her undead body to pieces and the other was the complete and utter opposite, he wanted to rush over and tell her that everything was going to be okay. But what did he get? He got a compromise, sitting with his back facing her, contemplating on his next move.
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Post by viola cervantes. on Nov 2, 2007 23:43:07 GMT -5
Nails gently tapped the cardboard holder around the coffee cup, consistent as always. A nervous habit you could say, tapping out beats to tuneless songs. But then, how would you feel if you were in Violas place. There we’re a few humans in the coffee shop, still that offered little comfort in comparison to the number shapeshifters that we’re there. And everything about her screamed out weak, tiny, fragile. How deceiving looks could be. For she was none of those, and could at the very least manage to get out alive if it came right down to it. Still it was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.
The air still fumed with the scent of ground coffee beans and milk being turned into foam. But underneath those scents we’re the ones only others like her self could pick up on. Blood. Like rust mixed with salt. Only everyone’s was very specific, some were sweeter, others bitter. And some practically irresistible. It was a difficult urge to keep in cheek, but usually the inner torment that resulted within from it could be easily held back. Viola tapped the long point of her boot on the side of the chair. No longer was the cup doing much good. It was still placed in both hands, and on occasion she would drink from it. But it was all just stalling, a diversion, waiting…
Waiting for time, waiting for the weather to pass, waiting for nothing in particular. Violas gaze was still intently focussed on the window, it’s tinted panels still reflected the weather outside it’s shielded was well. It seemed almost to rain harder. Someone up there really didn’t like her at the moment. Pursing her lips together she raised the cardboard cup to her lips, once more the liquid glided back without a care. But something was different, the usual aromas and spices that erupted from deep inside it’s continents we’re replaced with something… Was foul the word?
The human essence left within Viola was repulsed at this new scent that had seemed to flood the room. Yes it smelt pretty terrible, but as to be expected with the rain and all the wet, slowly decaying bodies standing around, but this was different. She’d smelled it before as a kid many times, wet dog. No man would give of the wet dog smell unless they had just been bathing with one. A werewolf most definitely. Slowly, almost cat-like she turned her head, in the direction this scent had come from. Before her eyes had a chance to take in anything the next sensation was even more powerful.
The door which had been just open blew the wind through, carrying his scent throughout the room like a hurricane. It felt as though someone had lit off firework of inside of her. His blood, it smelled so, irresistible. This couldn’t be good. Her pulse quickened the blood within her veins moving at such a fast rate her hand began the start shacking slightly. Was there no composure? Viola snapped at herself, demanding her body to calm down, as she took in the sites of this ‘object’ that had captured her attention. It didn’t help. He was, to say the least, gorgeous. He seemed to tower in, he was so tall, if the two we’re too stand side-by-side his shadow alone could swallow her whole. ’Stop this now!’ she commanded herself, but something inside resisted.
Looking back down into the cup of coffee in her hands, she was disturbed, it seemed like it had refilled itself automatically, as though she hadn’t been drinking at all. With immense frustration she put the cup down, shutting her eyes. His scent filled her thoughts entirely, it was frustrating! Then he walked nearer, the look on his face resembled something along the lines of disgust and interest, he knew what she was to obviously. It was like some understated line that everyone knew everyone’s business, even if they had never said two words to each other before. Viola refused to acknowledge his presence.
Gazing out the window, she willed the rain to cease, she could return to her ‘home’ if you could call it that, not the most enjoyable place but anywhere better than there. The last thing she needed was to draw more unwanted attention to herself. She could feel the stares of hate from all over, she didn’t belong there, but there she sat. Viola had to focus, the human nature of her needed to be strong. The dark gray clouds swirled outside, taunting her, testing her. It was times like this where she thought of her ‘condition’ as more of a curse. Back to when she had just been changed, and how confusing it was to sort through all these new urges and needs. ‘Think of the smell, he smells. Focus!’ she commanded once more, and for almost a second, it worked. But then another blast of wind sent his scent her way was more as her thoughts spiraled. This. Was. Impossible!
He sat down. Was he mad?! A hundred words came to mind but none she would be willing to mutter in public, now it wasn’t only some unknown spiritual being outside of the café testing her, it was him. Was this a gam? At least most of the shapeshifters in there had steered clear of her, a few glances here and there but nothing as to actually sit this close. Her mind was losing it, hands shacking even more as she forced them under the concealment of the table. Shutting her eyes she held her breath. His scent didn’t need to constantly be there. But it was to late, now it was in her mind, she could literally taste it now. Sick and twisted, maybe, but she couldn’t help it. Her judgment was becoming rather clouded now.
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Post by jacob danvers. on Nov 3, 2007 17:15:17 GMT -5
{JACOB DANVERS.} There were so many things happening at this exact moment that weren’t the way Jacob would usually like them to be. First off, damp blue jeans weren’t very comfortable. Secondly, his sopping wet sandals next to him were causing a small puddle to form on the seat. And finally, his shirt was stuck to his body which was uncomfortable to say the least. But in this circumstance, there were bigger things than simple comfort that had to be worried about, much bigger things.
So there he sat, alone in a booth, back facing one of the creatures he hated most, waiting for a server to come and give him an excuse to take his mind off of the present situation. One of the employees walked by and sent another gust of the wretches scent towards him, a deep, sonorous growl bubbled up from his throat as the fiend inside of him began taking control. A shadow passed over the table and Jake looked up to see the waiter waiting patiently with a pen in hand, waiting to take his order, looks like this was the distraction he was waiting for. The low growl in his gullet disappeared instantly and he gave the oblivious waiter his order, “I’ll have a large decaf coffee, black please.” Black, no sugar, no cream, just plain black coffee. The richer and stronger it was, the more it would take his mind off of her and the more he could have a normal night. Why decaf? Oh simply because if he had gotten a regular coffee, he would become quite restless and restlessness leads to reckless decision making, something that he most definitely did not want at this point and time.
Time ticked by second by second, each tick of the old fashioned wall clock seemed to be one minute apart instead of one second. But the scent was still present, still lingering in the air. Why hadn’t the other shifters ripped her limb from limb before he got there? Then he could have eaten in peace and all would have been okay. Apparently the rain was getting to his fellow werewolves because they seemed perfectly comfortable, apparently too lazy to think twice about a little pathetic vampire. Well they should, they should watch out, because one day one would come along, all beaten down and feeble looking, then you help them for one second and the next, the damn leech is at your neck. What a joke.
Jake’s bare feet began to tap lightly against the back of the booth, needing to do something, his knees began to go up and down, as if he were running in place; he unknowingly placed a foot out in the aisle and the second it hit the floor, he hated himself. He was in the seat across from her, the damn parasite. It was simple as this, as soon as one foot touched the floor, freed from the confines of the booth, the other followed and he moved swiftly to the place on his mind: the booth right behind him, the booth with the girl. What the fuck was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? He knew that he wanted to make her happy, but he also knew that he wanted her dead, so which way was he going towards at this point in time? Maybe he would end up making her day better and then rip her head off, what a lovely thought, no?
Lungs burned, momentarily drawing his attention away from the pest just a foot and a half away from him, he wasn’t breathing. Jacob didn’t want that grotesque perfume to enter his nose, he didn’t want it at all, and he didn’t know if he could handle it if he breathed. But he needed air just as much as the humans did, he gave in. The pent up air was released slowly, and then air was gathered in its place. It was sickening, the scent of the parasite was everywhere, and it was all he smelled now, almost choking him. His dark, oversized and rough hands were balled into fists, both of them on the table, one slightly shaking in place. The shapeshifter’s eyes glued onto the space in the booth right next to the vampire, they were now turning from a deep brown to a lighter yellow-brow. Jake blinked once, willing himself not to change, telling himself that she wasn’t like him, she wasn’t the creature that murdered his mother. ‘Your coffee, sir?’ The waiter had come back with his coffee and placed it in front of him quickly and left the booth as if he sensed some great battle about to take place. The coffee cup just sat there, the male didn’t trust himself enough to move his hand because maybe they would act like his legs had, maybe they would end up on her throat.
The coffee eased the sweet smell slightly, but it didn’t do much help, it just smelled like overly sweetened coffee now, which was still a disgusting thought. Everything hung in limbo: to kill or not to kill, to comfort or not to comfort. Perhaps nothing would occur and the two would just have a stare down until one of the two decided to leave. One thing was for sure though, Jake was not going to be that person.
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Post by viola cervantes. on Nov 5, 2007 22:10:08 GMT -5
[W]- for language, curse my dirty mind mouth OOC- sorry it took so long, I’ve been sort of busy…<3 _____________________________________________ What was he doing there, why here of all places, why now, why this particular coffee shop, why that booth, why why why? It was all Viola could do to keep from screaming these thoughts out, let alone run over to this mysterious stranger and literally attack him. With enough time off course for no one else to notice and her make a clean escape. But if she were to try anything at all she’d savor the moment, not rush through it barely managing to get out with her life. The urge was frenzying amidst her mind as she plotted and seeked revenge. Not that he’d done anything specifically to her, yet, but just the fact that he was provoking her already unstable mind to such irritating lengths was enough for her to see red.
It wasn’t helping that this person was in an obvious rage too. His blood was pulsing, he obviously had some sort of a temper, and it only made the urges of devouring him harder and harder to resist. Viola had never been a very aggressively natured girl, but this damned creature had provoked something within her. Not that it was all nesscisarily bad, no, so of it was actually thrilling and exciting. But she didn’t want to act this way, it’s not like Viola wanted to constantly be reminded of what she was, although she wasn’t ashamed either. It’s confusing really.
Distraction, distraction, distraction. That’s what Viola needed! But where to find one in a rather confined coffee shop surrounded by werewolfs and shapeshifters who would like nothing more than to rip you apart, and weather that could leave you ripped apart to shreds as well? A bright blast of lightning made it’s presence known rather well, when not even 2 seconds later thunder cracked. Storms we’re such a hassle, but it proved to be an effective distraction. As people scurried about through the streets, Viola made a note to dump of the contents of her coffee cup, into one of the plants sitting on the counter off the lonely booth she’d been sitting in all that time. She flagged over the waiter, "Can I please have another cup, I seemed to of knocked mine over.” She said, her voice came out rather softer than she had expected it to for some reason. Probably because somewhere inside of her she felt pity for the waiter taking her order, he had looked pretty startled by the sudden noise. “To stay please!” she called after him while he had started to walk back. As if to make a little stance, that she was there to stay and wouldn’t allow herself to be bullied around but some over grown, hairy creatures. (And how she loved to demean them within the free barriers of her own mind.)
As Viola waited, the persistent tapping off her foot grew louder and louder with each desperately slow ticking second. No tune whatsoever, just consistency. In some cases it could be greatly useful for aggravation. The least she could do at that point to show-case in a way her extreme hatred towards him was drive his ear drums crazy. But why the hell was he there, just sitting there, so God damn perfect! It was infuriating! In her mind she envisioned her-self throwing glasses against the wall, hurting and draining the blood from everyone of them there until it was just him and her left. Where she would finally be able to take control of the situation. But the she felt so insignificant. ’Why couldn’t I of been born taller, a bigger! she wined inwardly, a truly annoying habit. But at least this time it wasn’t out loud. No body likes a complaining priss. That wait was killing her, how long did it take to get a fucking cup of coffee? Frustration crossed her brow, a strand of hair falling loosely in-front of her face.
Viola swept at it, forcing it behind her ear. Then one thing led to another and soon she’d begun fussing with every square inch of the blonde, wet, mess. It had started to dry more now, and was easy to style, if you could call it that. It lay straight down, in a few more minutes it would begin to curl, how she despised that aspect more than anything else. Sighing immensely there was nothing left to do. But stare. The back of his head had nothing in particular that would scream out anything of interested, but why did there have to be bloody blood beneath it? The same blood that drove her cravings completely wild. He sat there, clenched, if she could only read minds… He’d probably be cursing her a thousand times already. But why would he sit there if he hated her that much? It didn’t make sense, and she couldn’t just exactly go over and ask what the Hell was his problem now could she? Because who knows where it would stop.
The waiter returned, he sure took his sweet ass time. Viola’s patience was wearing thin quite quickly, in-case you couldn’t tell. She always became short with people when things weren’t going her way, or she wasn’t in control, or she didn’t know what was going on. “Thanks…” she mumbled, as the hot cup was placed in-front of her. The steam rose from it’s depths, the aromas filling the air, blasting away his scent, that was good at least. She brought it delicately up to her lips, before taking a sip. She hadn’t expected it to be that hot! “Ouch!” she yelled, putting the cup down. Some spilled over the edge and landed on her fingers, it burned even more. Viola once more inwardly cursed herself, reaching out for the napkin. She briefly looked up at him, unwillingly of course, but looked away almost as quickly. What was she thinking, what if he’d caught her staring? Vila dabbed the napkin on the counter, while her tongue was still burned, this is what rainy skies can do to your day obviously.
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