Daphne Greengrass (_silvertongued) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-12-24 02:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-09-21, daphne |
We can fight our desires but when we start making fires we get ever so hot
Who: Rupert and Daphne
When: Late afternoon
Where: UofM Library
Daphne still didn't understand the logic of putting a vampire bar in Michigan -- honestly, were these people even known for anything other than their failing auto industry? -- but she had to give credit where credit was due. That hotel for supes? Knew. Their. Shit. There was something endlessly entertaining about dialing down to room service, and having a barely legal, half-naked man with the body of a Greek god knocking on your door within two minutes of hanging up. Clearly, these were people after Daphne's own heart. She could put up with being in this nowhere town a while longer as long as she was getting that kind of service. She'd had half a mind to lounge about in bed all day, but ultimately felt the need to explore a little. The university here was supposed to have an exemplary library. Daphne had a mind to engage in one of her favorite activities - visiting the library and seeing how many of her works they had on the shelves. Really, that just never got old.
She was, perhaps, a touch overdressed for the occasion, but when she was in a mood this good she felt she just had to show off. She'd been browsing the shelves for some time when she caught a whiff of something divinely familiar. She stopped strumming her nails against the shelf as she attempted to pinpoint it. It was male. And it was almost a match. Not a born witch, not demonic blooded either, but that was okay. The combination of demonic blooded born witches almost always lead to Daphne doing something the elders would disapprove of. She didn't need to be any cockier than she already was.
Yes, there it was. AB+, fae blooded. Vanilla human. Those were becoming so rare they were practically a novelty. Daphne followed the scent, but to an observant eye it would perhaps seem that she was only following signs towards a reference desk. She turned a corner and there he was. Oh, and he was a ginger! She loved those! She had always firmly believed that different complexions lead to different tastes, and she had such a weakness for gingers. She approached the desk, and smiled demurely. Closed-lips, no fangs. "Hello," she murmured. "Are you busy?" Please clear your schedule. I will put you to excellent use.