The Midnight Aristocracy [CW/TW]

"Where do you think you're going?" A powerful hand lightly grasped Ulric by the collar of his white shirt, followed by the rather threatening voice of a large guard just beyond the first door. The clawing noise of the streets outside had just died down behind the, now closed, steel-forged door. Ulric furled his brows and looked up at the slightly larger man with a rather irritated and almost threatening frown. The guard was a vampyre, obviously, his eyes shining red from having fed recently. And Ulric seemed just about three seconds away from being kicked to the curb; that is, before Cedric jumped in. "Yo, yo yo, big man!" The dark-skinned newly-turned vampire got in between the guard and Ulric. Placing a hand on both of their chests. "No need to get all macho up in 'dis bitch. He's my escort." The guard let go of Ulric, and was immediately handed a tarot card, depicting an artistic representation of three drops of blood. These vampyres liked being a bit dramatic, one could say. "Here's my card. Please, and thank you." Cedric finished nonchalantly and almost cocky, before taking the first steps towards the second steel-forged door. Ulric took his first steps as well, adjusting the white shirt a bit with a discreet smile painted over his lips. But he didn't get far before the guard bumped him lightly on the shoulder-blade in passing. "Watch out for yourself, Professor." The guards tone had changed completely, almost friendly, in fact. Cedric had stopped in his tracks. Both his eyes and mouth agape as he saw the scene unfolding before his eyes. Ulric responded with a light and relaxed tap to the guards chest, followed by an almost endearing raise of his eyebrows. "I'll be fine. Catch you later, Gregor."The answer came right before the second door opened, and both Ulric and Cedric walked through it. "How the fuck is it some old motherfucker like you know ev'rybody?" Cedric lamented in his usually charming and complaining tone, while swinging his arms about in wild gestures. They didn't call him The Complainer for nothing. "You gotta teach me sum of dat silver-tongued nonsense, one of these days!" Ulric smiled discreetly to himself. Knowing that Cedric's lamentations were rather rhetorical in nature, and that an answer would only inspire him to complain even further. The answer was pretty simple. When you traveled the world as much as you'd traveled the streets, you met some people from time to time.

The second steel-forged door led to a long and rather narrow corridor. With every step getting closer to the entrance to the actual club. Ulric, unfortunately, knew why such a seemingly unnecessary corridor was in place. No prey could outrun it's vampyric captors through three steel-forged doors and a long dark corridor. The dark lights illuminated perhaps a third of the corridor, with the rest shrouded in darkness. With every step, the sour smell and metallic taste of blood got more and more prominent. The faintest shimmers and murmurs of eccentric music crept through the thick door. Curious looks revealed small knocks and scratches on the darkly painted walls, almost obscured by the lackluster lighting. Whatever might appear behind that door... it wasn't for the feint of heart. And Ulric knew it. Another rather sinister use of the corridor came to fruition when Cedric opened the door for Ulric. The vacuum of the sealed corridor sprang out and spread the scent of newly arrived guest to the rest of the club. A few guests, lurking in darkly lit corners, turned their bloody red eyes towards the new arrivals, and Cedric spread out his arms. "Baby! I'm home." He exclaimed on an almost joyous note, and immediately turned his attention towards the long winding bar directly to the left of the door. Ulric almost regretted not having a habit of wearing any cologne or perfume. Being an outdoors-man, one could almost claim that he had a rather strong masculine and natural scent about him. Especially to vampyres, he imagined. Clearly not the typical prey of vampyres, who often preferred more... susceptible, prey.

What greeted Ulric inside the club, was a macabre and hedonistic display of bloodlust. As soon as the initial strong smell of blood toned down, a thick air of sex, sweat, and exotic perfumes hit him instead. A waitress dressed in skimpy and tight black latex calmly waltzed past Ulric, sending him what could only be described as a seductive and alluring gaze in passing. As soon as she disappeared with her tray, the rest of the club was revealed. Dark light. Reddish tones of subtle neon painted walls of almost obsidian and theatrical fashion. Every table was placed in the middle of a smaller island of couches, either against the walls, or in the middle of the floor. With a few exposed areas for those who wished to dance and throw themselves around. Most of the tables were not visible, but rather slightly covered by dark-red satin sheets extended between the high seating arrangements. Effectively making almost every table and seating into a private 'room' of sorts. Shadows and silhouettes dances across the satin, from the dimly lit seating arrangements. However, they did nothing to cover the sounds and noises emanating from within these mysterious quests. The distinct sound of teeth puncturing flesh. Gasps, barely distinguishable from pleasurable moans, sounded from this and that way with a few moments of respite. Barely detectable beneath the sound of almost intoxicating music filling the thick air. Not everyone, though, had any reservations about hiding their activities. And as Cedric and Ulric passed by one of these comfortable seatings, a young man became visible. A young man spread across the table, naked and exposed. Bloody and... nearing death. Four vampires enthusiastically digging into arteries of the wrists, thighs, and neck. With a fifth pleasantly leaned backwards, wiping her bloody lips almost poshly with a napkin. Sending Ulric one of their almost trademark alluring gazes. Blood dripped from the tables, occasionally cleaned by waitresses, to uphold the mere semblance of civility.

The bar was no different. A young redheaded woman sat leaning backwards towards the bar. Her head resting on the bar itself, with her legs spread wide, and her light dress rolled around her waist. Wearing nothing resembling underwear or lingerie, exposing ample breasts to the world, and a torso marked by several puncture wounds. A bald vampyre crouched between her legs, digging his teeth into her inner thighs. A female vampire sat besides her, following Ulric with her gaze, and an arm leaned across the young womans collarbone. All while sipping on a wine glass. And yet... slight moans of, pleasure, sounded from the mouth of the young lady. And a distinctive smile painted her parted lips. The Midnight Aristocracy had made prey of almost all living things for thousands of years. So enamored and seduced by the prospect of bloody violation; some even actively sought out the apparent pleasure of being victims of the most sophisticated predators on this planet. Ulric, however, wasn't particularly marked by any of this, and simply followed Cedric to a more exposed and bare part of the bar. Several vampyres had already taken a keen interest in Ulric, clearly curious as to why his white shirt wasn't yet marked by drops of blood. However... even among vampyres, there were rules. Prey accompanied by an escort was not to be touched - officially at least - by any other than their escorts. In this more modern Churchill City, most vampyres were probably used to willing prey, anyways. Ulric was cut from a different cloth all together. And the prospect of possibly knicking their teeth on the thick skin of an old and experiences Fenix, probably prevented most of them from trying out their luck with their seductive charms. There were more than a few willing prey, anyway. Besides... Ulric suspected that a few of them actually recognized him. The Fenix assistant of old Mallobaude was hard to forget to some. The last living thing to see the old Vampyre alive. Ulric and Cedric approached the bar, and a feminine and mature vampyre approached them from the other side. Stopping to take a closer look at Ulric. Ulric answered the glance in kind, with one of his own, and a discreet smile on his lips. And just as Cedric was about to speak, Ulric interrupted the short silence between the three of them. "What do a Lycan and a Vampyre have in common?" He was confident. Cedric was not. With this place filled with vampyres, the atmosphere was different. Even with the music and the nefarious sounds, almost every single word spoken in there could be picked up by more than just the ones participating in the conversation. Among vampyres, and their heightened senses, there was no such thing as a private conversation. "They both hate running water..." Ulric finished, flashing a charming and nonchalant smile. Immediately a vampyre sitting further down the bar, spat the contents of his bloody drink on the bar, and a few others in the near vicinity suppressed surprised laughter. What was initially an unsavory comparison, turned into a good old joke. Lycans smelling of dogs, and not bathing - and the old myth of vampyres being intolerant to running water. What better ice-breaker could there possibly be? Ulric maintained his smile, while looking straight at the bartender. He stood with a straight back, still wearing his woolly coat. She was stoic, he'd grant her that. But slowly an almost sinister smile spread across her lips. "What'll it be, gentlemen?"

The tomb. A place of many words. Either praised by the vampyres for the sanctuary it brought their feeding times, while playing catchy tunes in a dimlit replica of a romanticized era. A place where predator could act accordingly, luring their prey in with promises of a good night or simply a long enchanting gaze to cloud the prey’s mind and lead them right into the mouth of the lion. Yes the tomb were many things to the vampyres, descriptions matching almost the words of paradise. That or a more simple description that only someone with a bratty attitude and narrow mind such as a young vampyre called Nahia would use; Boring. She wasnt keen on all this old school vampyre behaviour, hunting in the dark and dressing in black and leather. It all just seemed like a stereotype she couldnt care to be a part of. In the memories of her childhood, she remembered her excitement to one day join her elders and fully experience what being a child of the night meant, but now as she was old enough to think on her own, she no longer had such a desire. Everything took too long. The luring phase, getting the person here and make sure they didnt flee the second they realized they were to be consumed and sucked dry. Her mind simply didnt have the patience to even think that scenario to end.

She was sitting at the bar, running her finger along the thin glass that made up the bowl that held her heavenly drink enclosed in a safe place, a straw to mark her childish attempt to stick to her youthful side. It looked like wine but everyone knew that wine wasnt a drink in a place like this. Here they didnt have to pretend to be a part of the rest of the world, they didnt have to drink or eat anything else than what a vampyre needed, the sweet thick red substance that nourished them with youthful glows and sweet delight - Blood. She sipped off her drink through the straw, turning her head to look upon the rest of her kind. Somewhere she had left her guest, thinking that he or she would be fine while she enjoyed her drink - She would get to them later. She couldnt even remember who she had brought with her, that little of an impact had the person had on her as she dragged them in here.

But her mind was occupied with only one thing, the obsession over what she had lost. One guy, one man she thought was her everything, one that she had had in her grasp. He had been hers, even if he hadnt wanted to and now he was gone. Off to be healed by someone else when she could have broken him down and molded him to fit what she wanted. Her mind was twisted, far more than it showed, her miscoloured eyes of one blue and one brown scouting around for something intriguing. She bit her lip as her mind seemed to wonder off once more to the nephilim she felt so infatuated with. Oh how she would squeeze him till he’d turn blue and wheeze so quietly as she’d make sure he fell unconcious. The thought amused her. She finished her drink, glancing into the glass as she saw her eyes turn red like the blood she had just drank. But even then, the miscolouring was so apparent. Where the eye had been blue a bright red was shown while the brown had a far darker shade. She frowned at her reflection in the glass, getting up from her seat. “I should go find that guest...” she mumbled a little loud to herself as she went on to try and see if she could find the person.

Maybe seeing them again would remind her of who it had been. She was sure she could recognize the person the minute she saw them. Maybe she looked a little lost as her eyes darted around, scanning each face that didnt bear fangs or red eyes. No one could prey on the person, it was forbidden, against the rules. But somehow she hoped that some bloodthirsty goon had thought he or she could get away with breaking that one rule if they just werent discovered. How she was just hoping for such a thing to be happening.

She stopped in a doorway of sorts, her eyes laying upon a couple in a bed. She saw the blonde hair and it was like a switch flicked. “Get out” she demanded, the guy looking up as she looked at him with anger. She remembered now how she had picked someone that reminded her so much of her loss that she had left him the minute they stepped in here. And now here he laid with someone else like she needed another reminder that she couldnt have him. “Get the fuck out!” She exclaimed a little louder, grabbing the woman from underneath him to just wring her out of his grasp and push her into the hallway. The guy scrambled to his feet, “What the hell?” He asked, but she was quick to lash out at him, drawing blood with ease as her sharp nails made sure to disfigure his face. He scrambled back as his hands covered his face, his teeth gritted as grunts of pain left his mouth. She was ready to lash out once more but it seemed he was ahead of her as he quickly ripped a decorative curtain off the wall in a panic and engulfed her in it. He ran out, naked and afraid as he looked around to find his way out. He ran out in the midst of the club, looking around in a panic, calling for help, yet it seemed that either no one cared or no one dared to intervene, it was hard to tell which. “She’s fucking crazy!” He exclaimed, looking back from where he had come from. Attention was drawn from few but still no help, his heart thumping in a way most only found apertizing. He ran up to the bar, a bearded man that looked far too rough to be one of these bloodsuckers, he had to be someone who could help. “Please!” He begged, grabbing the big man by the arms, seemingly interested in wrestling his way to keep his grip on him if the man were to fight it. But in a live or die situation, wasnt his attempt to humanize himself quite reasonable?

Nahia came out shortly after, her hand stained with the man’s blood as she looked around.

There existed a fascinating dynamic between the animalistic predatory urges of the vampyre, and the semblance of civility that the majority of the race seemed intent on upholding. Even among their own peers. At first glance, and even with a preliminary knowledge of Ulric himself; one often wouldn't expect Ulric - with his often high code of behavioral and intellectual morality - to partake in any way in such a dark and gritty sub-culture. And yet, while standing at the bar and waiting for the drinks that he and Cedric had ordered; Ulric wasn't afraid to turn his gaze and attention towards even the most horrifying happenings within The Tomb. A young woman moaning in strained, agitated, and muffled pain from a far corner. The ever-present sound of blood being suckled and drawn from arteries, bubbling between bloody red lips and trembling skin. A part of him almost... liked it. This was closer to the reality of the nature that he so adored, than anything outside the steel-forged doors. And even though he hardly wouldn't start recounting it, he had seen sights far worse than the simple and uncomplicated dynamics between prey and predator. These bloodsuckers should see what some Daemons did in their rituals. The desecration of the body was one thing, the desecration of the soul, was another entirely. Though he would never partake in the same, there rested within him no desire to rebel or disturb the bloody status quo of The Midnight Aristocracy. In many ways a society older than Churchill City itself. And one that Ulric, honestly, had much more respect for than the petty authorities of the City. But Mallobaude had probably been the cause of that.

Cedric eagerly awaited the two drinks which were being poured while Ulric spoke. A tall glass of 'wine' for himself, and a smaller glass of whiskey for Ulric. Some vampyres probably liked mixing blood with different kinds of liquor, this was however a minority, so the alcohol and liquor of The Tomb often stood completely untouched for decades. Oddly enough, a good thing! It meant that the liquor available was often very rare or old, given the fact that they often just stood around taking up space on the shelves. Ulric would honestly be coming here more often, if it wasn't for the thick smell of blood that constantly accosted his nose. "You might actually have better luck with guns or various firearms..." A vampyre sitting comfortably at the bar had taken it upon himself to reproach this almost grizzly and weathered newcomer. And had of course immediately asked, in a very suggestive and rather morbid way, on how to most effectively kill a Fenix. Not even the subliminal flames in his eyes hadn't gone unnoticed, it seemed. "Oh, fuck off!" The vampyre retorted immediately to Ulric's calm answer, all while a few scoffs sounded from another guest. And even the bartender, now handing both Cedric and Ulric their respective drinks, looked at Ulric with raised eyebrows and certain disbelief. "You haven't ever noticed how much more effort you have to put in, to feeding on a Fenix?" Ulric retorted with a discreet smile. The logical question got them thinking, while he quickly took a quick sip of his whiskey. Cedric was paying close attention as well, however with almost comically twisted eyes, as he was immediately downing the entirety of his drink; all while intently looking at Ulric off to the side with eyes slowly turning red. "You bite down.." Ulric continued after having put aside his drink on the counter. Even slightly mimicking the feeding itself, with both hands cupped close to his own flashed teeth. "But your fangs don't seem to penetrate, right?" The vampyre besides Ulric nodded. His eyes still very condescending, and yet, he responded with a nod. He was listening. "So you start to tense your jaw a bit more. And even then you have to tear and rip a little bit, hoping to tense up the muscles so the skin will be more taut." Ulric rested his hands on the counter again, still standing tall though. No one interrupted him. They were listening. "And by then you're already thinking; 'This shit is taking way too long. It's like I'm eating a rubber steak!' And you all probably know that the likelihood of anything disturbing or disruptive happening increases, the longer it takes for you to drain your prey, right? And now your prey is reacting violently, and the blood is agitated. Instead of this perfectly oxygenated blood full of delicious red blood cells, you get this odd taste of white bloodcells and adrenaline and last pint of weirdly almost lumpy blood, from an annoying victim. Making it more likely you'll just start ripping an waste the blood. You already spent like half an hour tracking this fucker, waiting for the right moment, and getting them to calm down, y'know?" For a second it was like they were being drawn someplace else by Ulric's telling, complete with gesticulation and easy calm. Like they were talking to a friend about their last feeding. Quickly let back into the world of The Tomb every time Ulric paused for a second or added his slight question at the end of the sentences. "I'm telling you, a gun hurts way more. And it'll still penetrate the skin," Ulric started emptying the pockets of his woolly coat. Putting two completely unrelated envelopes on the counter. One of them already open. And the other resembling more of a package, with how bulging an envelope it was. He knew what he was doing. He had their attention. "But because a Fenix's skin is way tougher, it'll absorb most of the kinetic energy of the bullet, and it'll almost always stay lodged in whatever bone or muscle it tries to penetrate. A gunshot is, for instance, excruciatingly painful. And is way more likely to subdue a Fenix effectively while giving easy and quick access to their blood." Ulric nodded knowingly at both the bartender, Cedric, and the initially condescending third vampyre. All three of them trying(unsuccessfully) to brush off his points with either a slight scoff, or a pair of rolling eyes. The bartender took a short step back and looked discreetly down at along the winding bar. Suddenly slightly regretting that they didn't keep a shotgun behind the counter, or that she didn't have one of those sexy thigh-holsters for a little pistol. Before any could realize that Ulric had finished talking, he made sure to distract at least the bartender. "You gonna pay or not, old man?" The bartender finally got to asking while still dismissively shaking her head a bit by this odd guest. This odd and troublesome prey. Used to hearing a few things or two from interesting guests, she clearly wasn't easily distracted from matters of payment. Ulric smiled discreetly.

"That's why I'm here, actually." With a few fingers on the already open envelope, he slided it across the counter towards the bartender. "Read this, please. From Mallobaude." With furled brows, while being slightly confused, the vampyress took out the document, and started reading for her self. A copy of the last will and testament of Mallobaude. In which, it was instructed that ten percent of his wealth and holdings be given to The Tomb in cash, as a gift to what in the letter was referring to as the Midnight Aristocracy. Among many other things, of course. So Ulric was simply patiently waiting for her to read and understand.

Even without noticing that he had had several moments of relative quiet to talk and enjoy his drink, the relative contentment and sinister atmosphere was interrupted by a panicked voice. As he was about to remove his coat after emptying some of it's contents on the counter - and talking a bit with a few guests - the slightly out-of-place panic drew closer to him. Ulric locked a bit over his shoulder as he saw some of the vampyres around him having their attention drawn, and laid his eyes on the naked man who came closer. Quickly Ulric let his coat slide over his shoulders, with his eyes fixed on the naked figure approaching at speed. And Ulric just barely had time to hang his coat on a bar stool in front to him, before both his arms were grasped firmly. Ulric didn't move an inch, but still let the naked man pull and grasp at his arm, without withdrawing them. His turquoise flames enveloping the eyes that were fixed on the man with a bloody and all but disfigured face. "Do you know where you are?" Ulric asked calmly, not letting himself be overcome by the empathy he felt creeping up his spine. And knowing full well that asking him to calm down would accomplish absolutely nothing. Cedric had almost started laughing, suppressing his sinister joy at seeing others in pain. A less than charming attribute, but Ulric was working on him. The slightly larger Ulric knew that the naked man probably wouldn't find it comforting that no one other than himself took this dire situation as seriously as he did. So he almost forcefully made the naked man stand closer to the bar, in between himself and Cedric, only then immediately hang his woolly coat on the panicked man's shoulders. This man was probably dead already, and anything Ulric presently was trying to do for him, was in vain. "Uh oh.." Cedric exclaimed, in a weird mix of excitement and dread, as he was the first of the two to notice the bloody vampyress clearly following the naked man. Ulric started rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, with his eyes now fixed at the seemingly young vampyress, and without leaving the panicked man's side. Both himself and Cedric forcefully keeping the man at the bar, and pretty much ignoring any cries for help or panic. This apparently couldn't be avoided. Damn.

The man had known what he was getting into when he had seen the subtle sign of The Tomb, every living being had heard of this dreaded place that took many of the living in to it’s darkness to never let them leave - Oh yes, he had heard all stories of horror and excitement. His taste for adventure and exploration may have gotten the best of him and compelled him to accept the offer from this otherwise unknown vampyress that had suddenly taken a strange liking to him. She hadnt seemed as crazy as she truly was at the time, so of course he hadnt thought he would end up in a situation where he would fear for his life. And yet now here he stood, buttocks and blood, begging some huge guy to help keep him safe. “Yeah I know where I am, but she seemed alright. And now she wants to gut me, man, you gotta help me,” he explained before he was ready to get on his knees and beg. He had no intention of losing his life tonight, but he was afraid he would without a little bit of help. He felt the minimal comfort of the coat but since his more comfortable outfit was locked in a private room that he obviously couldnt get back to, he knew that beggars couldnt be choosers. He just scuttled in close to the bar and begged in soft tones that she would pass by and not bat an eye. Anything to get away from that crazy bitch.

She was acting in all of the primal might she bore as she scanned for her prey among the guests and bloodsuckers. But she didnt even have to look long before she saw the barren skin hiding behind an open coat, like a black sheep amongst the white. Her expression darkened by the sight of the man’s face, even more as it seemed that he had convinced no less than a fenix to keep him from harms way. As intelligent as Nahia could be, there was a far bigger drive, something deeply encoded inside of her from birth that surpassed it all - Her egotistical crave for self-justice. The ego above all that wasnt revolved around the massive fenix or his vampyric companion that both seemed to harbour some interest in protecting the naked man that she had brought along. No her ego was all revolving around her in it’s rawest form - Anger. The anger from being unable to control another being the way she wanted to. He was dead to her already at this point, she just had to see through that the rest of the world would look at him the same. And no fenix, no matter the size would stand in her way. Moving closer to them she could see the guy peep from the broad shield of shoulders he was safely behind. “Move,” she demanded in a snare, lifting her miscoloured eyes up to meet the obstacle’s. “Dont, please.” the guy begged meekly from behind. Nahia’s frown grew deeper by just the sound of his words, “I own him. He’s mine like you’re his. Now move” she said once more, her eyes darting from eye to eye on this stranger like she considered tearing her own way through. It wasnt something she could on a fenix, not one as big as him at least with their thicker skin. She’d imagine his muscles to be less than for show and well protective should it be necessary. Everyone seemed to have moved their attention to the commotion, a few whispers here and there, crawling along the wall to brush finely against the ceiling and spread. The audacity to keep a prey from it’s owner were among the louder whispers, while others were begging for action. Hurt him, let her prey, all these whispers with different demands and different concerns. Nahia paid no mind to them, she was fully occupied on keeping her staredown as if she had shared the same height as the man towering above her.