InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Chacha!"

Byron Wickes (killingurges) wrote in cirque_rp,
@ 2017-11-30 19:38:00

Entry tags:

!event

WHO: Byron and Margo
WHEN: Nov 3rd, just before midnight
WHERE: Before the gates to the Village.
SUMMARY: Byron has some fun with the Middle Red Head
WARNINGS: Byron

Such a sweet and delicious surprise the Wild Hunt had been. No one had spoken of it previously, but as Byron overheard the event only happened once every decade. How lucky he stayed long enough to experience it. The rules lifted brought a malicious grin to the charming features of the vampire. Young, innocent human employees that decided to test their senses with the darkness that befell the grounds amused Byron to no end. Most ran and hid away after an hour of the initial bloodbath.

While any hunt involved his childer at his side, they had their own agendas amongst the terror dripping in the air and had seperated for the time. The Night not nearly over for them, Byron had already gorged himself on several humans and merely dissected the rest he had killed. Byron loved watching the desperate and annguished expressions of those being tortured at the end of his blade. It stirred what no other situation could otherwise, emotion from the heartless sociopath.

Leaving a body, slashed at the throat, clothes ripped and blood drained, Byron cleaned his face the a piece of the torn skirt before he noticed another heartbeat closing in. Throwing the bloodied scrap of clothing to the side, he turned the corner toward the Village once to catch the scent and deep red hair of one of the new Kemp girls. His shadow moving ahead of him, he silently slide up behind her. "Leaving so soon?" He whispered in her ear.

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bacchae
2017-12-03 01:33 am UTC (link)

As she had said, Margaery had given the Wild Hunt a shot. She had wanted to see, wanted to know what she was really getting herself into. The Cirque had been a complete surprise when she had turned up, chasing phantom calls from her older sister. And since then, everyone had been recently behaved. Well, there were those murders, but... Well, the Ringmaster had insisted that those weren't the norm and not the fault of the employees involved. After all, that No Killing Other Employees rule seemed to be pretty serious.

And while she hadn't seen any employees killed, Margo had seen quite enough of the violence that the Cirque's more bloodthirsty employees could manage. She had seen blood poured into bowls from sliced throats, patrons torn into pieces, entire families slaughtered like cattle.

After the first hour or so, Margo had locked herself in her shop, using the different baubles there to space out, to distract herself from the horrors outside. Only when it was nearing midnight could she force herself to move. She had to get back; she could be locked safely in as long as she was back before midnight.

Margo scampered the distance between her shop and the Village, her head down and her eyes set straight ahead. Not much further, she told herself, and then nearly came out of her own skin at the sound of Byron's voice at her ear. If her heart hadn't been hammering before, it certainly was then. The young woman spun, red-gold curls in her face, to face the vampire.

"I was... I don't think this is for me," she admitted, quashing the urge to look for blood on the performer's hands or clothes. She didn't want to know. "I'm going back to my trailer."

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killingurges
2017-12-04 08:37 pm UTC (link)

A grin spread across Byron's features. The pounding beat of her heart in her chest a song he could never tire of. Letting his smile soften, he pretended to care for her clash of opinion over the event. "Let me walk with you," he suggested. Blue eyes twinkled in the dim light of the nearby lanterns with a hint of offering to make her night far more interesting than locking herself away in her trailer. Byron oozed sex-appeal with his perceived charm and notes of the ever elusive bad-boy.

"It is better to have a protector being so delicate." He paused. The comment meant as a tease to pull her into making very bad decisions. "Though the night is still young, love, you do not have to be back to your trailer for another hour." While she had been distracted by his sudden presence, Byron had slid her phone out of her pocket and slipped it into his own.

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bacchae
2017-12-05 04:42 am UTC (link)

For just a moment, Margo's brows drew together. She had heard about Byron; there was plenty to hear, and most of it had made her blush fiercely. She hadn't gone out of her way to really interact with him, not with a reputation like the one that preceded him. Partially because she could imagine the allure.

Margo had always had the very best bad taste in men. She had always wanted what she had no business having.

"No one here can hurt me," she offered in response, although she didn't sound as sure as she would have liked. Her eyes strayed over her shoulder, back toward the Village and the safety of her trailer. She never noticed the disappearance of her phone. "But... You can walk with me, I guess?" What could it hurt? She was only a few hundred feet from home.

"An hour? No, it's almost midnight..." Only when he brought up the time did she reach for the phone that should have been in her jacket pocket, safe from the cold. But the pocket was empty, and Margo was left to frown quizzically in the direction of her shop. Had she dropped it? Left it on the counter? She hadn't been thinking at her most clear...

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killingurges
2017-12-11 04:21 am UTC (link)

"No one can kill or maim you, love, hurt is too general of a term to force such creatures to live by." He corrected, innocently. Byron had a long reputation of lovers and kinks, but most kept his violence on the hushed side. No one had fun if people ran their mouths, and while Byron did not look to die as punishment for killing an employee, he would make their lives miserable if they tattled.

Giving his best-concerned face, Byron touched her arm. "Is everything okay, love?" He asked as if he were not exactly sure why she would be looking the way she did. The modern human was so attached to their phones he was sure they would jump into a pit of vipers for them.

Another finger brought grazed her chin, tilting her head to look at him. His eyes sparkling blue in the low light and giving off a fuzzy sense of acceptence. "Shall we go back to your shop?"

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bacchae
2017-12-15 04:23 am UTC (link)

The lovers and kinks were enough. He was suggestive and sardonic, had a penchant for almost-cruel teasing online. Although he had been nice enough to her, she supposed. He had never turned an unkind word her way, or a scathing comment. And he was so pretty...

Margaery blinked at the touch to her arm, her frown deepening. What had she been thinking of? Before Byron, before... The time. She needed to get back to her trailer. But had she gotten it wrong? If she had looked at the time wrong, it was only nearing eleven.

She didn't bat the cool fingers away from her chin, or otherwise pull away when he turned her head back to look up at him. He really did have the most lovely eyes, so blue even in the dark. In the end, Margo nodded – her head felt a little like it was filled with static, soft and lulling. "Yes... you'll walk with me?"

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killingurges
2017-12-16 05:15 pm UTC (link)

"Of course, love. I wouldn't want you to wall about here alone." Byron brushed a stand of her red locks away from her face and grinned.

No killing employees still held as a rule, but that did not mean he could not take her to the brink and back all night. Without her dear sisters to watch over her or any of Madeline's witch friends, Byron had free reign. He had to wonder what her power was and how it might taste as her blood moved over his tonight.

Hand on her lower back, he walked her back to her trinket shop, throwing her cellphone into the stables as they passed.

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bacchae
2017-12-17 06:37 pm UTC (link)

Margaery was docile during the walk back, distracted. She didn't pay attention to the chaos still in full swing around them; her thoughts were on the shop, on going back there, on the so-blue eyes that she still seemed able to see if she let her own drop closed.

It didn't take long. Within a few minutes, minutes that brought her perilously close to midnight, she was letting them into the little jewelry shop. Around them, trinkets gleamed in the dark, moving as Margo brushed by. It was a very small space, large enough for her counter and a handful of customers. The 'back' was rather like a very large closet, one with a little countertop where Margo cleaned and mended the pieces that she found.

"I thought... wasn't I going home?" The redhead turned toward him to ask the question, a little line of confusion between her brows, genuinely concerned.

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killingurges
2017-12-19 11:51 pm UTC (link)

"No, love. You were going to show me your back room." He smirked. Having pulled her away from her trailer and back to her shop, the girl would not have enough time to get back before the deadline. At full sprint, for a normal human, it would be difficult, to say the least.

Closing the door behind them, he moved the bolt into place and turned back toward the young redhead. He had to wonder if all the Kemp girls had the same taste or unique signatures like bottles of wine. Different ages, different qualities. The youngest had been so pure it hurt his tooth. If Kit did not corrupt that one fast enough, Byron would swoop in for that kill as he was already doing with the middle child.

Running his fingers along the trinkets, Byron closed the space between them. "Aren't you a little curious about how it feels?" He asked in a suggestive tone that did not hold the mesmerism his words by the Village had. Byron preferred to toy with his prey while they were more aware than the little trick allowed.

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bacchae
2017-12-28 08:44 pm UTC (link)

"The back room," Margo repeated, turning her head toward the space. It was dark; the whole shop was dark. It had seemed like tempting fate to have it all lit up. She had spent her time there sitting in a corner, illuminated only by her phone. And now she couldn't quite remember where she had put that – it wasn't in her pocket, and it hadn't been on the counter.

Her attention was drawn back by the sound of his fingers brushing the chains hanging. "Careful," she warned. "There's silver..." She herself had already been warned about exposing other employees to the metal. So she slid a half-step closer, a considerable amount in the small space. In the next moment, Byron had closed the rest of the distance. Her eyes ticked up to him, a little more clear without his mesmerism influencing her mind. "How it feels?"

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