Haunted Roads

Dorian Narrative Save spot!

When: Late Night
Where: Hotel
Who: Nikolaos, Dorian, Mikkos, Guards
What: Demons - Mikkos' Point of View - Narrative

Such hatred. So strong that it could be felt easily through the walls of the hotel they both still lived in, and even simply within the city. Mikkos spent little time within the city however. Most days were spent in trying to clean up a mess not his own, though surely he too had some dirt on his hands. No, he'd not take all the blame, not for his father's treachery. All the talk of family, all the talk of loyalty, and in the end? It was Haimon who proved the traitor. In the end it was Haimon to sell his own blood, to hand them not to their known enemy, but to another.

The enemy, Mikkos had learned, was now Haimon's ally. The old man had been busy. All he needed was Mikkos and Nik to be gone for an extended amount of time to complete his treachery. Mikkos had learned much, though not enough. He knew no amount of evidence would convince Nik that it was not Mikkos' doing, not even Mikkos' choices on the surface, that had swayed Haimon in his treason, but something deeper and darker that belonged to Haimon alone.

And to his enemy. Yes, Haimon's enemy turned ally.

Mikkos hadn't at first believed it. Even now he had trouble in accepting it, but it was true, he knew. The enemy he had known always to hate, the enemy Haimon had spent a lifetime fighting against... Haimon now had joined forces with. And both men, he learned, were doing a bit of house cleaning. The truth had been hard to swallow, especially since it had come not from his own men, but from the enemies. In fact, it was one of the Kreskas' that first told him. But not before Mikkos and he had a vicious fight. Followed of course, by another.

None of it made sense, and in fact, the Kreskas had very little to offer in the way of evidence or rational conviction, but what little he did offer, coupled with what little Mikkos knew on his own family's side... he knew it was likely all too true. Which meant as bad as it now was, it was only going to get worse.

Of course, he had no idea just how bad it really would get.

That did not mean however, that his guard was down. A message from Nik, from his own guard, the same guard that had watched the boy from his childhood. There was no trust in him, no rust now in any of the guard. No trust in anyone. In fact, if Mikkos were a wiser man, he'd have no trust in his son. Logically, rationally, he knew he should have none, but he knew also, that if he could not trust Nik, ill-placed as that might be, then he had in fact, truly lost everything. The truth of the matter though, was he didn't know how much, if any of Haimon's plot, involved Nik, or if the boy truly was as much a pawn in this game as everyone else now seemed to be.

His eyes swept 'round the room. first Nik, then Dorian, then the guards, and then back on Nik expectantly. He had called this meeting after all, there must have been a reason. Wait. Something was off... some guard that did not belong. Too late. A warning, and then the lights came on. Brilliant, enough to cripple the shadow creatures. A shot, Nik's gun bringing one down, and Mikkos quickly became a part of the shadows, fighting within them. The battle waged on, his own guard, all new, hand picked, and made up one hundred percent of old friends, surface demons... better known back in the day, as pirates.

No epic music played, and the battle was anti-climactic, valiantly fought, but unexpected. As much by the the guards who turned on them as by Mikkos and Nikoloas and Dorian. The mutinous guards, acting on higher orders, had not expected any fight. "Retreat" had been sounded more than once, but Mikkos refused. Not without his son. And not without his sister's son. This now was his family. He knew, beyond all doubt, that this now was his only family. And as the order was given, and Mikkos too, fought as Nik did, and Dorian too, the shadows darkened, all went black, and when he came to he was no longer in the basement, no longer in the hotel, or even in the city, but in the stronghold of his friend. The battle had waged on without him. But not long he was told, as when he fell, the others did retreat, dragging his sorry unconscious ass with them. But not before killing as many of the others as they could, and at least attempting to take his son and nephew.

They'd expected his rage however, and when it came, they simply took up another battle. This was as much fun as the salty old pirates had had in all the centuries since their mate had left them.

When: Late Night
Where: Underground
Who: Nikolaos and Dorian

Dear Dorian was thinking about leaving. Nikolaos knew this; he knew that it would occur all too quickly. He'd wanted to act swiftly when they first arrived because of it. The other was skittish, paranoid of his own shadow and constantly seeking out a reason to pack himself up and move again. The only reason he'd delayed this time was because of that succubus that had his balls leashed. That had worked in their favor and was going to continue to. But first Dorian needed to be made aware of this. More then that he had need to be told just how things were going to go. Running wasn't an option for him right now and Nik was going to be the one to deliver that news.

It was about time that they had a bit of...family bonding wasn't it? Nikolaos had been told to keep back; it was well know how much he truly loathed the weaker demon. He wanted to kill him, bring his head back as a trophy to remind all what living on the surface made a demon become. It weakened the spine. It made them forget what power and place really was. More then that it weakened the blood. Their name. It was something to hate...and something to stop. For more then just this one.

Plans had changed however; Nikolaos took it upon himself to see to that. But he had the backing of both mother and grandfather on this one regardless. Why leave this task to the other too distracted by his past to worry about the task he was sent here to complete. Did he know what Dorian planned to do? Or that he'd seen his precious succubus. Had he been watching him like he should have been? How could you watch when you were watching another? Nikolaos would see to the job himself then.

Someone needed to.

It was far from the best time of course, but timing mattered little. Nikolaos knew that the departure of the other needed to be stopped and his own anger would not jeopardize what he was told to do. Nikolas knew how to bite back that rage, to contain it and appear eerily calm. He was taught well to keep that control. He knew he'd have chance to let that anger out. But this wasn't it. Not yet...soon....but not tonight.

Down into the underground Nikolaos and loyal guards went. They knew exactly where the man was. Nikolaos knew where he sat even and what drink was currently in his hand. Another was there, watching, listening. They knew what the man had planned for after that drink. One last shot to still the doubts hmm? One last drink before family came to visit.

The smell of chaos was in the air, Nikolaos could nearly taste blood upon his tongue with each breathe. The underground was familiar territory for the demon even if it didn’t compare to home. Tonight he was down here for a different kind of play then typical. Tonight he had a job to do. Every exit of the bar was soon watched. Nikolaos waited at the exit, back to the wall near the door. The other would come out on his own or soon he’d be flushed out. Nikolaos certainly hoped that his dear cousin made tonight difficult on himself.

All thoughts were pushed from his mind but the task at hand. The events of the nights before were all but forgotten. The anger so buried back that it scarcely was even a flicker now inside of him. None of it mattered tonight. Nikolaos knew how to see to tasks given to him. The job came before all else. Nikolaos stood, calmly now…waiting.

Who: Dorian and Isobel
When: Saturday Night
Where: Club in Belltown


The bar was packed. Not an unusual sight for a Friday night in one of the more trendy areas of Seattle. Humans packed the clubs along the street in droves, everyone looking for something. Love, a night of passion, to fill some hole? Everyone had their own goal in sight and honed in as the night wore on. In that respect Dorian fit right in with the masses that moved through the tight confines of the club.

He was looking for something. Someone.

Music wasn't the draw like it was for many that moved as the beat demanded. Drinks in hand, working their way closer and closer to their object of lust for the night. His form remained so indifferent to the pulse of the music, his focus entirely intent on one thing and one thing only. Her. Was he insane? Was all this searching and hunting for her a product of his mind or was she a reality... tangible, flesh and blood. In reality he wasn't sure which answer he preferred but he was bound and determined to find an answer.

The towers had been an enigma to him from the moment that he'd felt that pull that was Isobel and only Isobel from the tall building. His tracking had only deepened his curiosity and created more questions. So many of his kind... too close. So many warnings but he couldn't walk away just yet. He needed to know if it was her. He had to know.

A new motel had been found for the week. Another sad room that was furnished with only the bare necessities. His items only taking up a small portion of the space provided, never making it look anymore like a home. When the sun set and the shadows he felt most comfortable in took up their residence, Dorian finally stepped free of his room. The path he made to the Old Town Towers was almost becoming routine. This time though... he caught something. Enough to follow....

To this club.

As much as he didn't give a shit... Dorian knew how to blend in with the best of them. Before stepping foot inside and paying the cover that was required, he readied himself for the part. Sleeves rolled and a button loosened on his shirt, he's pass for one of the many men who had made their way to the club with the purpose of finding someone to 'love' for the evening at least.

Threading his way through the crowd, the feel of her only got stronger. It couldn't just be a trick of his mind. It couldn't... could it?

Who: Dorian and Nox
When: Wednesday, early evening
Where: Old town towers


It was stupidity like this that was going to get Dorian killed. He knew that fact yet couldn't seem to stop himself from engaging in the reckless behavior. There were points though where he wondered why he continued to run. Was it a matter of pride, did her truly want to live that badly, was what he did any sort of life? All questions that didn't have answers that came anywhere close to explaining what it was that he did on a daily basis.

But he did it anyway. Following the same procedure in each new town he came to. Stay as long was he could, always keeping his eyes open for signs that it was time to move on. Those signs had been glaring him in the face in Seattle. That funny feeling that pulled at his nerves. Not long ago that would have been enough for him to bug out and find another place to call home for whatever stretch of time he could. Had he left though? No. Something kept him here.

It was the same thing that had him following in a resident of the Old Town Towers. Slow closing doors and the fact that darkness fell early on the city allowed him to conceal his entry into the building behind the woman who made a beeline for the elevators, groceries in hand.

What was he really doing inside the place? Looking. Looking for what had kept pulling him toward the building before. H needed proof that it wasn't her. Then he could simply move on. His plan once inside was the only thing he knew. If wandered upon he was Daniel Kennedy, just moved to Seattle from Yakima. First time in a big city and he'd seen an ad in the Stranger, a local free newspaper, that there were some open apartments in the building. He was just taking a look and trying to find the managers office to see if he could get some information on the building.

Keep the conversation short and keep moving. He had a check list. Check the mail boxes and make a round through the floors. Amazing what one could discover if they let their senses work. For the moment he stood quietly in the entryway, holding the paper with the ad in his hand for evidence's sake and took in the space. Feeling the dark hollows that lined the edges of the room, feeling the energy that shimmered through the entire place, energy that could only come from it's supernatural residents.

Question was... was she one of those residents.

Who: Dorian (Narrative)
When: Saturday Night
Where: Outside the Towers

The days seemed to bleed into one, forming into one gray sky that never seemed to change with each afternoon that he woke and each evening that he spent keeping to dark streets and keeping his ear to the pavement as the saying went. Did one day spark anything more in him than another? Had any day done that for years now? No was the answer he'd become far too used to. It ate him, the monotony of his life, the constant movement.

Ate at him simply because he had something else to compare it to, something that could never be again.

While one day wore into the next he continually found himself moving closer and closer to one spot. It drew him in like a magnet. Closer and closer yet as if one were flipped he always pushed away in the last instant. Repelled back and yet he'd try again to find the same result. Was he finally reaching some level of insanity expecting a different result?

Was that dark haired woman leaving the apartment building he found himself at almost nightly her? If he actually expected it to be... perhaps he was insane.

Dorian just couldn't seem to shake the feeling, the slight scent that he would catch in the air, the energy that had always seemed to be hers and hers alone. As he'd return home before the sun hit the sky and lay in his motel room bed, he'd wonder if he wasn't just imagining her presence. He had to be though.

It was the presence of other demons, throwing him. Had to be. He knew that some lived in the complex he was so drawn to. Their energy radiating from the brick walls, that he was so tuned to seek. That was simply it. He was doing as he always had, anticipating the next move of those that sought him dead.

It wasn't her. It couldn't be her. No matter how much that part of him that was better off dead wished it could be. If just to see her one more time. From afar... he wasn't sure he could stomach the hate he would see in her eyes.

Even if that was what he had meant for her to feel.

Who: Dorian (Narrative)
Where: Pioneer Square through the financial district
When: Thursday Night
What: Uh... brooding?



There was a sharp scent of flowers to the air, seemed to linger throughout the afternoon and into the night when Dorian far preferred to step free from his motel room. It wasn't entirely for the fact that sunlight lessened abilities... but there was simply something about the unforgiving glare of the sun that tended to bring out the harsh realities of the world that he walked through. Melodramatic as that seemed.

Perhaps it was just the day? Couples walking hand in hand out of the cities fancy restaurants. Smiles and side long glances between the pairs as they hurried to cars or waiting taxi's that quickly left the scene heading off to various parts of the city. He didn't begrudge any of them their happiness... in fact as Dorian moved through the darkened streets he found that he couldn't stop watching them. Though it wasn't really them that he was watching.

He'd found that he'd stopped... footsteps away from the City Centre building, Palomino being a hot spot for dates it seemed. His head lifted to the sky for a moment and with a sharp inhale of breath he was in another city and another time. It was almost as if he could hear the sound of her laughter, feel the slide of her hair and most of all... smell that scent that had always been uniquely Belle.

"Honey is that man alright? Should we call someone..." That broke Dorian from his moment of silent reverie. Distracted enough that he hadn't even taken the time to fade into the background enough to be invisible from the humans enjoying their evenings. Dorian gave a short nod of his head and moved on.

And there it was again... that scent. Even more than the scent... the feel of her. His mind hadn't played tricks like this on him in years. Maybe he was finally losing it. Too many years of pushing on and constantly moving... no, it didn't necessarily made sense but none of this was particularly making sense. Dorian's head whipped to the side, practically expecting to see her there next to him again, that secret smile on her face that had always had him, even from hello... But she wasn't there. It was just a crush of people coming out of the early showing at that theater...

Her scent was gone. Overwhelmed by too many others. Washed away again. He couldn't clutch at this and hold onto it like he did with the memories that he'd long ago given up trying to forget. They were his own form of punishment.

Who: Dorian and Hesper
Where: Seattle Underground
When: Tuesday Night


The underground. It was both a haven and a haunt. Perhaps that was an unusual way to look at the dilapidated pathways that led underneath the city of Seattle. It was a haven to those who required the cover it so adequately provided and it was perhaps a place of nightmares who found their way mistakenly into it's dark depths. But Dorian had not found his way to the underground mistakenly... he did however take advantage of the cover it provided. Though it was not for the nefarious deeds that many used it for.

Rather, it was far more a matter of life or death. Maybe not quite anything that desperate but Dorian had taken to adding the seriousness of just such a situation to most average things he did. He never knew... though he did make it his business to try and know, to try and anticipate the actions of those that had wanted him dead for nearly two centuries. He hadn't lived this long without making it his business to know who was in each and every city he arrived in. Not just for the work he did, that was always secondary to just staying alive... but rather to know who would be the one that would lead them to him this time. To determine if he had walked right into the waiting orders of some minion of his... grandfather. Though that term was really far too familiar for a demon he had never met and hoped never to meet.

Dorian pulled the cloak of shadows he wore more tightly around him as someone passed by the particular alcove he was keeping himself to while he let his fine tuned senses feel the narrow alleyways that crisscrossed this portion of the city. The two acts, keeping the bits of darkness that clung to so much of the underground concealing his very presence and... feeling those that moved around him, took nearly every ounce of his focus. Something that almost left him vulnerable but it was a necessity.

More than necessary. There it was... the pull of demon blood. Walking the streets that were well... below the city of now streets. His shoulders immediately tightened and his jaw clenched. Dorian's hand strayed to the warded charm around his neck he always wore. Only one of many that was placed there to help conceal his own blood. Though it was never truly possible... they could always tell, those with enough age or enough skill. Dorian stepped away from the niche he'd tucked himself into, his steps falling near silently on the worn walkways as he moved off in pursuit. Looking for the one that was a demon... a potential threat.

Who: Justine & Dorian
Where: Chroma
When: Evening (after dark, obviously)
What: Checking in on things


Chroma tended to be quite capable of running itself. The staff had been impeccably trained by the establishment's owner and Justine was always only a phone call away. Once the sun set, she rather liked to head downtown and see over things in person, reassuring the staff that she was not simply some omnipresent being that oversaw all of them from a distance. After all, the place was her baby, her creation and nursing it into longevity was a thrilling endeavor. She'd dreamt of running a business for so long that now the sight of the building alone could quicken that slow, vampiric pulse.

By the time she reached her office that night the numbers for Tuesday and the expectation for this evening were already on her desk. She so enjoyed her staff's ability to be sufficient - Justine was not one with an icredibly high tolerance for 'slackers.' Of course giving your employees the proper motivation really was key: benefits, flexible hours, all of that. She kept them happy and, in turn, Chroma ran like the well oiled machine she so wanted it to be. A brief glimpse at the numbers assured her that things were bypassing the planned income for the week, a pleasing sight indeed. Tucking the folder into her desk drawer, Justine dropped her cell phone into the pocket of her slacks and headed out to the gallery to check the latest installation.

As usual, she was stunningly professional: black wide-legged slacks, black snakeskin heels and a cashmere wrap around sweater in the deepest of burgandys. Her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders in soft waves, make-up light and simple for the night. Hands slipped into her pockets, she made her way down the back hallway from her office, setting foot into the gallery area. The room was already filling up for the night, patrons content to sip a variety of vintages from Chroma's wine bar and take in the latest artist that Justine had recruited to show. Many of the pieces were of a mixed-media variety, paintings with oil and cloth that created a visual experience worth the time it took to see each and every one. A few of the wandering crowd were regulars and so Justine graced them with a soft smile or paused for a moment of conversation.

Tonight, like most, seemed to be going perfectly so far. But in Seattle, the expected rarely stuck around for long.