WHO: Stefan Salvatore & Claire Bennet WHAT: Feeding, being moody, making a mess. The usual. WHERE: a bar WHEN: evening of the 19th RATING: High, for blood and violence STATUS: complete as narrative; in progress
He hated his righteous selves that were stuck with him on the island. They were all the same, boring and saintly, always standing for the right and good. What happened to survival of the fittest? Watching our for yourself? Apparently those concepts had been lost on them somewhere along the line. They were all terrible vampires to say the least and they pissed Stefan off to the highest factor.But there was someone who was beginning to piss him off more and only for the fact the man was hanging around his lover. Klaus. He'd agreed to help him but it seemed that his...employer of sorts just couldn't keep his hands off the Katherines. Bastard. It had taken Stefan a century and a half to find her again and he wouldn't allow anyone to take her from him. Was he possessive? Yes. Jealous? Possibly. But mostly just angry. He had to get out, to feed and think and do anything to help with the rage burning up inside of him.
It was a good night to go out.
It wasn't too late in the evening so the city was still pretty well bustling with busy people, whether they were heading home or going to have what they hoped would be an interesting night out. Stefan didn't care. They were all the same to him: possible meals. But he but on his most charming smile and entered a small bar, seeing a few men and women sitting at the tables, talking over beer, shots and mixed drinks. It'd been a long time since he'd...slaughtered. He'd have to brush up on his skills tonight. One by one, every person was either compelled or just...killed, their bodies dropping to the floor, blood cooling when they attempted to run from him. He fed from them first, the others sitting there patiently, waiting for their turn to die. Sure, it wasn't much of a hunt, but he wasn't in the mood for one right now. He just wanted to kill, to tear into flesh and drain of every ounce of sweet blood. Maybe afterwards he would feel a bit better.
After his initial feeding frenzy, he left a few of the compelled humans alive and strolled around the bar, his lips and chin smeared with fresh blood, a smirk on his young face. He pulled a bottle off the shelf--vodka--, opening it up and taking a big drink, letting the liquor burn its way down his throat...letting it numb him a little. Maybe he would have been better off if he hadn't let his feelings for Katherine get in the way...but he did. Was it another stupid mistake on his part? Probably. But there was no one to blame but himself. He'd seen her and he...lost it. Stefan cursed under his breath and suddenly tossed the bottle across the bar, listening as the glass shattered against the far wall, the alcohol darkening the paint. He breathed deep afterwards, closing his green eyes and running his hands over his face to wipe the blood off. Things were supposed to have gotten better, instead they just seemed to be getting worse.
With another sudden bout of rage, he walked over to one of the female survivors, a little blonde, and Stefan didn't hesitate in pulling her head back by her long hair and ripping her throat open with his fangs, her sudden spilling of blood staining the front of her dress. He let the thick liquid fill his mouth, that he could catch, while the rest he licked up. When she had bled out, he let go of her hair, the poor girl's corpse tumbling to the floor, blonde strands spread out around her head like a dirty halo. Stefan himself had calmed down again and he took a seat on the chair she had been in, putting his chin in the palm of his hand and sighed deeply.