Who: Guillaume D'anjou, Valerian Edvarsson What: Two rivals, once friends, meet again in the fog. When: May 7th, 2015 Where: Widow's Harbor Docks Extra Notes:
The events that had led Valerian and Liam to seek haven in Blackwood City were complicated, and had become quite convoluted, to say the least. It had been one disaster right after another, and even though he had labeled them disasters, they had been technically victories. They had achieved what they had been after, even though the aftermath wasn't really anything worth having. A fractured city, torn asunder by the efforts of two groups, wrestling for control. It wasn't how things were normally done, and that was why several Princes had come from Europe to solve the problem. Permanently.
It meant inquisitions, torture, damage control, and even executions. Those who weren't smart enough to leave, had likely been killed, on both sides. There had even been rumor that the Prince of New York City had made a brief appearance, but nobody knew for what reason. It had probably been political, and yet, probably something sinister. It was always sinister when Vampires were involved.
Valerian carried the lithe body of a young man in his arms. Well, one might say young man, but he was a boy of seventeen. A track star, to be truthful. Valerian couldn't help himself, he could only be sated by the blood of young and beautiful male specimens. He made no apologies for it, and most of the time, he could dominate them to get what he wanted, but sometimes the thrill of the kill couldn't be denied, for the beast inside him demanded to be released, or bad things would happen.
Valerian dropped the boy's body on the dock before he carefully bound the corpse's hands and feet together, making something akin to a ball. He had his weird ways, but to anyone watching, it became apparent when he retrieved a bucket of chum, and poured it into the ocean, and tossed the body into the cloud of fish blood and gore.
The thick fog lapped around his black boots, and swirled around his leather pants as his powerful stride displaced the air in his wake. Sometimes killing them was more trouble than it was worth. He took a compact mirror from his pocket, and dabbed the corners of his mouth delicately. "You handsome devil." He barely whispered to himself before he closed the compact with a snap, and put it back into his pocket.