Light of May ::: an original roleplay

Who: Lazarus and Demi.
Where: A random bar.
When: Night.

Bars and clubs somehow managed to never get old. Not to Lazarus. There was always something new going on, something refreshingly debased and degrading for one party or another, something delightfully crude and primal. In the dark corners and secret spaces of these establishments Lazarus could find the most fascinating things taking place and if he was very lucky indeed he could join in, take part, even take control. More times than he could count he had come across one lonely soul or another and introduced them to all kinds of debauchery and sin. They were his favourite kinds of places, the perfect replacements for the inns and taverns and brothels of days gone by and they were darker and louder now, even more well-suited to his needs. In those corners and crevices he could perform all kinds of nasty deeds and the people around him would be none the wiser. Whatever prey he had pinned down for the night would find their way home and maybe, just maybe, discover something unexpected a few months down the line. Places like this were ripe with easy pickings, all kinds of victims and prey, and maybe tonight he would find something special, someone who could provide him with more than a could of hours worth of entertainment.

Prowling through the bodies that were milling through the bar, a moderately large place with booths and shadowed corners that would suit his needs wonderfully if he found something worth his time, he scanned the faces, searching for those small signs that he’d found what he was looking for. That desperate glimmer in their eyes, the quietly hungry look, the restless, almost nervous energy. Lazarus knew what he was looking for, he had spent centuries perfecting his hunting process. If the floor provided no luck then the bar was his best bet and that was exactly where he was headed when he caught sight of it. Of her.

The smoothness of her gracefully exotic features, youthful and so innocent to anyone not really paying attention, the way her hair fell, the way her eyes scanned her surroundings. Lazarus recognised her instantly. Even now decades after they had met he knew her immediately, at a single glance, and with an amused, intrigued smirk he made his way towards her, catching the bartender’s gaze as he went and signalling to the man to deliver another drink to the lady at the end. She didn’t look old enough to drink here. Fake ID, most likely.

As Lazarus came to a stop beside her at the bar the drink he’d ordered was being set down in front of her, one of his own coming to rest beside it. “It’s been a long time,” he said to her, reaching for that drink with that same smirk on his face.