Sutterfield (sutterfield) wrote in eclipsethreads, @ 2015-01-14 18:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | active, isidorus svennson, vivian sutterfield |
Who: Vivian and Isidore
What: First Impressions
Where: Forespine Inn
When: Sunday, January 14; early evening and onward
Rating: TBA
Status: In progress
The road hummed beneath the tires of Vivian's car and almost below the range of human hearing, Nat King Cole crooned about love. Vivian's lips pursed and she almost ejected the CD and frisbeed it out the window, but it wasn't Cole's fault her own love life was soured and so instead she changed the CD and Handel's Water Music flowed from the speakers.
Her drive wound through some of the prettiest country she'd seen. The Pacific Northwest had always been her favorite place to live. Her new home was in Ravenwood and she hoped that the natural beauty and the distance from Nathan would help settle her nerves and to give her some new inspiration for her art.
Vivian had driven to Ravenwood two weeks ago to sign on her new house--a modern glass and log cabin tucked into the trees outside of town and on the edge of a small lake. It was beautiful and probably too spacious for a single person, but the views had sold her and besides, she had room for Jasper and whomever he was seeing at the time. There were two wonderful rooms for a couple of studios and in the summer, she'd be able to swim. Enough acreage surrounded her that she could change into any animal and roam if she so chose.
She'd already packed up everything and the movers were due Tuesday, but she thought she'd arrive earlier and spend a couple of days at the Forespine Inn until they got there, looking around the town, getting things ready for her belongings. She'd never been to the Inn, but the pictures online had been gorgeous, and lying about in a luxurious room, relaxing and pampering herself sounded just like what she needed to do after the stress of the last month.
Christ. Nathan had cheated on her. Multiple times, evidently, and she hadn't known it. So much for superior senses, but to be fair, he'd been very, very careful. She'd only discovered it when she found him in bed with his latest slattern. It was a wonder she hadn't changed and scared the fuck out of them, but she was far too much the lady to do so.
So, now she was beginning again. It would be good; she was by nature optimistic. A new home, new friends, new life. Beginnings weren't foreign to her; she'd lived a couple of lives and would live more, as shifters were naturally long-lived.
And if she became romantically entangled again? It certainly wouldn't be with a human. And it would be as it had been before she'd met her husband Michael--strictly for pleasure, nothing serious.
Forespine Inn came into view on her left, and she craned her neck looking through the trees through the deepening twilight. It was gorgeous, and fit into the countryside as if it were a part of it. Vivian hummed under her breath happily; this looked like it would be a wonderful place to stay.
It was dark by the time Vivian pulled her SUV into the drive and into a parking place and got out, smoothing her skirt over her thighs, high heels clicking smartly over the pavement as she headed for the entrance, pulling her travel case behind her. Within, it was just as beautiful, very upscale, and she liked it very much. Making her way to the front desk, she confirmed her reservation. The clerk was very pleasant and professional and within moments she had the keycard in hand. To the left behind the desk, almost out of sight she saw a man standing in the doorway to what she assumed was an office. He was tall and slim, pale and handsome with close-cropped curly auburn hair, and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. She nodded politely to him and headed off to the elevator.
Her room was on the third floor and a luxurious haven. Vivian slipped off her high heels--one did not treat Louboutins roughly--and placed her suitcase on the padded bench at the foot of the bed. Some of the tension she'd carried for the past two weeks slid away and she let herself fall backwards onto the bed's duvet. The past was just that, and now was a time for a new beginning. She rolled around on the duvet, rubbing her scent all over it and laughed at her own child-like behavior.
Vivian spent the evening pampering herself, taking a very long bath, smoothing lotion over her skin, painting nails and toenails. She ordered room service--the biggest steak they had, rare, with all the sides, and a bottle of wine. The order came with complimentary chocolates, much to her delight. Too much by far, but she'd work it off in the next week getting settled, and while she ate, she watched home and gardening shows, making mental notes as to what she'd like to do with her new home.
Finally, fragrant and sated and sleepy, she turned off all the lights and settled into the softness of the bed with a contented sigh. With most of a bottle of wine in her, it didn't take long to fall asleep.
Hours later, she came awake with a rush, instincts screaming. There was a man with one knee on the bed, bending over her, his hand brushing the heavy hair away from her throat. Without thought, Vivian shifted her eyes to that of her tiger, and everything sprang into clear, sharp focus.
No, not a man. Humans didn't have fangs like that. Christ. Vampire.
His hand went around her throat, but Vivian wasn't human, either. At a thought, her hands flexed and her nails changed into the long black claws of her tiger. She went for the groin and ripped upward even as her other hand flayed his arm to bone. If he weren't dead already, she would've smelled the heat and barnyard stench of shredded intestines; all she smelled was old blood and dead flesh. He yelled and his hand fell away and Vivian got to her knees. Her body rippled into that of a Siberian tiger, and as her tail tip formed, she sprang, knocking him down, teeth and claws ripping and shredding. He didn't go down without a fight; his fangs and claws ripped at her hide, but she was so determined to fight and survive she scarcely felt it.
They rolled around the floor, him yelling and she snarling, and he managed to sink fangs into her throat, but her tiger skin was far tougher than human skin and he didn't get a good grip. Vivian slammed a clawed paw into his face and heard bones crack and break, and when his grip loosened, she sank her own fangs into his face and ripped it off. His body still fought, and it wasn't until she ripped the rest of his head from his neck that the fight was over. She gripped the body in her mouth and flung it; it crashed through the window and into the courtyard below.
A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she whirled, sank into a crouch, ready to spring, tail whipping madly behind her. The taste of old blood and dead flesh was strong in her mouth, blood dripping from her jaws and from a dozen cuts on her hide. Someone stood in the doorway, and she roared a challenge to him.