Light of May ::: an original roleplay

Who: Lazarus and Athena.
Where: Some shady bar in Ann Arbor.
When: Evening.
Warnings: Violence.

She had caught his eye a few weeks ago, this one, physically gorgeous and mentally sharp, enough of a challenge that he didn’t just want her, he needed her. Not in the conventional sense, of course. Not in the way any mortal man wanted or needed a woman. No. Lazarus wanted to break her down, take her apart, he needed it, more than the air in his lungs or the blood in his veins. She had captivated him in a bar just like this one without him expecting it and he had been working his way into her life ever since. Ingratiating himself. She was responding well, with just enough resistance to keep him interested, but with fascination all of her own. Lazarus had played up his native accent, the one that had been fascinating and winning women over for centuries and he had noticed the way her muscles tightened and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth whenever he opened his mouth and spoke to her, let that accent add an edge to his words that so many people in America labelled as exotic.

It wasn’t by chance that he made his way to one of his prey’s favourite bars that evening. Every few days he would catch up with her and they would flirt over drinks that he -- of course -- paid for and tonight, he suspected, he would get what it was he had been waiting for. The beginning of the end. Her life would change after tonight and not for the better, not if Lazarus had anything to do with it.

He was waiting for her at the bar when he heard the door open and he turned his eyes in the direction of the entrance to see her walk in. She saw him too and smiled, wasting no time in crossing the room to join him. Once she had settled herself in her seat and he had ordered her a drink Lazarus got to work, subtly working his powers on her, picking at the exposed threads, working his way past what little was left of her defences. She laughed in all the right places, tucking her hair behind her ears in a fashion that was supposed to be meek but was actually flirtatious and he recognised that immediately. At this point in his life, with so much experience under his belt, he knew just what to say and when, just as he knew the right moments to reach out and brush his fingertips against her arm or her hand. By the time she said she was headed to the ladies’ room to freshen up Lazarus knew he had her, that all his hard work and patience had paid off, and he smiled and told her he would wait for her, of course, and then they could go somewhere more private. More comfortable.

She smiled eagerly, filled with nervous excitement, and excused herself from her seat, walking past him and towards the facilities tucked further into the building down a narrow hallway out of sight. That didn’t stop Lazarus from twisting in his seat to watch her leave, though, smirking to himself, already feeling triumphant.