Current Time: 06:35 pm EDT

The Itsy Bitsy Spider



 
Guest
 

Downloadable Entire Thread (For Excel, use Save As...) 1
  Creator Post Date

Moriko Hayashi

She should have left days ago. Sooner than that, she should have left the moment she first fed, then it wouldn’t be as hard as it was now. Mori just couldn’t seem to help herself, and the problem with staying around people for too long, was that they stopped looking like people...and started looking like prey. When you are at a buffet, you stop caring about things like being careful.

When a web is spun, it matters not what type of bug lands in its threads.

She should not have travelled so far from home, maybe the temptation wouldn’t have been so great then. The longer she was gone, the more she answered to her base instincts instead of the voice that tickled at the back of her head. A voice that was so easily muted in the sound of music thumping and people chattering inanely.

Dark eyes scanned the dimly lit room. It was so unlike the places she was used to, with their bright lights and even brighter people, but she wasn’t home. The place wasn’t what one would call a dive bar, but it wasn’t a swank club. It was more laid back than that with people dancing to music that was a few decibels below ear splitting. That way people could actually speak (yell) and hear one another. The wood floors were scuffed and worn in a comfortable way, but clean.

Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, reaching near to her waist. A form fitting, but modest necklined, black dress with yellow blocks on the sides accentuated curvature. Black heels that propelled her staggering five feet two so that she was now at least five foot six. Petite. Demure. A camouflage into her surroundings.

The scent of pheromones was light on the air around her, controlled by her, until she found someone she wanted to catch in her snare. It was enough to make men around her stop and stare, to inch closer to her and her perched position on a stool, making the other stools at the bar filled with bodies. She’d even managed a few women as well. That was fine with her, she wasn’t a picky eater in that regard

There were no slathering idiots, ready to do whatever she wanted just to have her pay attention to them. She preferred her prey to be at least somewhat lucid. Somewhat. But now it was just enough for the initial attraction.

Still. Nobody had piqued her interest. With so many insects ensnared in her trap, she could take her time which to sample first.

That nagging voice in the back of her head tried to speak up again. ‘You’ve already had enough. We can go home now. You don’t have to keep doing this.’ She did not like this voice. Not because it was trying to tell her no...but because Moriko still thought of them as two seperate people. She didn’t want to understand that they were one and the same. Where there was Moriko, so there was this other part of her. Once Mori understood that…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a glass being put on the bar next to her and she turned her gaze to the bartender. He was now close enough that even he couldn’t help the schoolboy grin that spread across his face, which was returned by her. “For you, miss. From that gentleman.” Near black eyes followed the path the pointed finger gave her, and her smile spread even further upon red painted lips. Oh, he’ll do nicely.
April 09, 2018 03:29 pm

Tiber Loche

As a general rule, Tiber had a tendency of keeping to himself. There were always exceptions, as most people could attest too. The Doe's and their herd for example. That of which Tiber considered himself a part of. It wasn't often that the man found himself outside the confines of The Den proper, but when he did it usually lasted for days at a time. Sometimes weeks. Really, the trips came to form as his business piled up. Before he even had time to realize, he had numerous things to take care of. Lucky for him that there were people he trusted enough to take care of his cabin while he was away. Even if Derek couldn't be trusted not to hot box his closets.

The city came first. Tiber didn't need to leave the country just yet, and so his chores were easily checked off of his list before he was rushed to Uganda once again. Tonight the itch for a good bourbon struck. A liquor store could have offered him a quicker, more cost effective solution... But damned if he wasn't determined to kick the solitude of his hotel room. The man needed some sort of social interaction. Craved it, even. It had been a long time since he'd been behind the proverbial wheel of his own good time. There was no reason he couldn't take the reins.

He started off slow, in a bar somewhere outside of The Village. The music didn't pump hard enough to thump wildly against his ear drums, and it's body count was reasonable. If we're being fair, it's a Thursday night and there's almost no reason at all for a place such a this to be packed.

Thank God.

Tiber's sat upon this very barstool since he showed up, and right now he has zero interest in moving. It's his third drink (he thinks), and he's enjoying a mediocre Whiskey that he doesn't know the name of. To his left, the second girl who's tried hitting on him tonight chit chats idly about a friend of hers from work. Or maybe her cat? He can't remember, and he's hardly paying attention. Now and then he offers a polite nod and takes another sip of the amber brew in his glass. He's not even sure that he's asked for her name and he's certain that he didn't give his own.

It's not that he CARES when her attention turns elsewhere, but he finds it strange when the younger girl begins to stutter, and her speech almost slurs- but not in a way that indicated she was intoxicated. Tiber thought it seemed like she was all of a sudden out of her mind. Like her lips and her words couldn't find a way to sync. Not once do her eyes re-affix to his own. Instead, she stares intently over his shoulder. He's sure she hasn't even blinked.

Tiber placed his glass down on to the counter, brows knotting curiously over his pale blue gaze. He rotates then, turning away from the girl to get a look at whatever it was she was staring at. Along the way he can't help but notice how a handful of others seemed equally as distracted and Tiber isn't sure whether to laugh or to be completely dumbfounded.

"Will you excuse me?" The girl says hurriedly, touching his shoulder lightly before she slinks away. Tiber turns just in time to catch her sandy hair streaking by him, so he simply shrugs and grabs for his glass once again.

He hasn't realized that all of the garnered attention had been concentrated just a few bodies down from him at the bar- nor would he have been able to see the woman from where he was situation. Bodies almost seemed to crowd around her, even though their temperaments weren't hurried or rushed.

Like moths attracted to an open flame; the fire burned too hot for them to attempt to reach out and touch. Tiber could hear people chatting, but couldn't make sense of their conversations at all.

"Could I get-" Tiber tries to flag down the bartender as he toddles by, but can't seem to capture his attention. Somehow, he just can't manage to mask the grumpy expression that suddenly forms over his face.
April 09, 2018 03:36 pm

Moriko Hayashi

When things are too easy, could they still be considered sport? Or a hunt? Those things obviously had their thrill for her, especially when she was in this state. But there was still a certain headiness to being able to take your pick without remorse or guilt. She picked up the drink she’d been offered by the bartender, a martini she would guess by shape of glass and the olive that settled in the bottom. With a slinking movement she slid off of the stool, her motions caught by the gaze of the small crowd that had started to gather around her.

The chatter never really stopped, perhaps it stuttered a bit, and maybe attention was only half given. Relaxation settled as eyes followed her movements. Half smiles lit across the small crowd at the bar. Her movements were quick, graceful, practiced as her petite frame weaved between bodies with her drink still in hand, but still untouched.

Her dark eyes look up beneath thick lashes, though they weren’t real. Her heritage didn’t allow for lustrous lashes, so thankfully the cosmetic industry had been able to assist her. A peak of a smile as she did her best at demure and sweet “Thank you for the drink. I don’t usually go out….”

Words trailed off. Eyebrows cinched together as pure puzzlement sweeps over her face. This wasn’t the man that had just been in this spot, she was sure of it. That, interestingly enough, wasn’t the most puzzling part of it for her. While everyone in her near vicinity was relaxed and smiling, he wore a frown within the confines of facial hair.

And she was wrenched speechless.

This was, quite literally, the first time this had ever happened to her. Her head turned so she could look at the others around her to see if their expressions had changed in the slightest. Not a single one. The bartender had even made his way back down to where she and the grumpy man stood, setting up another drink from another poor sod that she would leave unattended.

She looked him up and down. Not lasciviously, really, but getting his measure. Rather large, at least comparatively. He might even make a few meals if she couldn’t finish it all tonight. Leftovers were always better after the flavor had time to stew.

Good looking.

And puzzling enough to make it interesting.

A small shrug, aimed at herself. She gave him a smile after she had gathered herself. The same pheromones that had been sifting through the air now grew stronger, as they didn’t seem to be affecting him. Maybe he had a natural resistance, though she’d never met anyone who had. Then, of course, she was a long way from home. “You don’t look like you’re having a good time. Would a drink help?” She pretended not to notice that the bartender was now staring at her and what had been passing interest before now seemed to intensify. The people nearest to her took a few steps in, making the small crowd gather more closely knit than before.

She stiffened slightly. Maybe she had ‘turned it on’ a little too much, her curiosity getting the better of her. She did her best to keep that expression off of her face, though, replacing it with the doe eyed smile.

“You look like a Whiskey man.”
April 09, 2018 03:53 pm

Tiber Loche

Tiber hardly notices the way that the air seemed to shift around him. Around THEM. His mind had wandered to numerous other things. Whether or not he should have his plane departure diverted from New Orleans. If he could make it down there in just a few days. How many more Whiskey drinks he was going to imbibe. If there was any way to escape this bar and make it to the next before it stopped letting people in.

Most of his thoughts had almost nothing to do with the next or the last, but this was not out of the ordinary for the man. His attention often teetered. Sometimes unintentionally. Sometimes offensively. It was hardly ever on purpose, but he'd become calloused and unapologetic all the while.

He doesn't react to the slight chill that forces it's way down his spine. It seems to land in the pit of his stomach, and only then does his attention shift to the people and person around him. Thankfully he was not a claustrophobic kind of man. Living in the woods hadn't fully affected him in such a way YET. But it seems that his attention had snapped at just the appropriate time, for as his ears perked and visibly he seemed to straighten, the airy voice of a strange woman once again overcame the waves of music that invaded the space around him.

'You don't look like you're having a good time.' She says. He's not. 'Would a drink help?' She inquires. Yes and no.

His eyes flicker from the now empty glass pressed against his fingertips, to the dark bar where he sets the crystal down in consideration. Tiber swallows the last gulp of liquor that he'd allow to slowly burn against the back of his tongue.

'You look like a Whiskey man.'

That's what they all say.

"Actually, a rather normal type of man. Not an ounce of rye in my DNA." Tiber glances to his left, where the woman had taken up the space at his side. In a moment, he straightens up, allowing his back to come fully into contact with the hi-back of the bar stool that he'd chosen. His fingers tap lightly against the heavy wood of the bar while his eyes wander curiously over the petite form of the woman.

She's well dressed, having put considerable thought into her attire. A form fitting dress and an expensive looking pair of heels to match. A serious mismatch from Tiber himself, who wore a pair of dusty denim jeans and a muted plaid button up. To further accentuate his casual attire, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and the top few buttons were undone. The white t-shirt he wore underneath was one of (what seemed like) a hundred that he owned. Truly, he was a simple kind of man.

"Although I can't say for sure whether or not Whiskey was involved in my conception. So maybe you're right." The bartender stares at him blankly, but Tiber gets the sense that it's less of a 'what can I get you' kind of stare. Somehow the guy seemed more aggressive than he had before. Hostile in nature. Still, Tiber pushes the glass forward with the tip of his finger, indicating that he wanted a refill.

"What are you drinking?" He tilts his head lazily to the side, eyes full of the dark haired woman, who had a drink in her hand already. Still, he would offer. Call the man stubborn, but he hardly allowed for other people to pay for his drinks. Maybe he was old fashioned. Maybe it was something something male dominance.
April 10, 2018 02:50 pm

Moriko Hayashi


‘Not an ounce of rye in my DNA.’ She might be a monster, but at least she still had a sense of humor. She laughed and shook her head. “You should try that website...23 and me. I hear they can pull all sorts of things out. There may just be a single malt somewhere in the past. There is definitely one in your future.” Her English held just the barest hint of accent, enough to give away...that and her appearance, obviously, that she might not be from around these parts exactly.

His question made her remember that she held a drink in her hand and she looked at it curiously. “A martini?” It was not a statement, because she honestly had no idea. She brought the glass to her lips and took a very small sip, then nodded before putting it on the top of the bar. “Vodka martini. Dry. Very dry.” There was a barest grimace to the lines of her face. Her attention turned to the bartender who was giving a very pointed stare. Stare was too nice of a word for the expression that the barkeep held for the man next to her. “May I have a gin and tonic with lime?”

His whole demeanor changed when she asked for the drink, smiling and going about his business to prepare it for her. In the motion it seemed to make him remember that the man had asked for a refill. A bottle was grabbed, topper pulled and slammed on the counter, before the empty glass was roughly refilled. If a glass could be refilled roughly, that would certainly be the description for it. Then it was shoved back towards the man beside her.

While she might seem oblivious to the entire interaction, it was affording her some time to think. To...understand...what might be going on here. He was simply not affected by her scent. The pheromones now being filtered heavily into the air. By now he should be well within her ‘thrall’ so to speak, though there was nothing magical about it. Magical, perhaps, only in the fact that she could naturally produce the same chemicals as her other form. It just worked on humans instead of arachnids. But he, just, wasn’t reacting at all.

“You look human enough, despite genetic questionability. I’d have to get a taste before I could say for sure.” Her grin widened, eyes turned upwards again to him. Flirting. Obviously was flirting and not at all being literal. Right. Not at all fishing for information in a sly manner.

With the amount of chemical in the air and her attention, this should be working. It was working with those around her for sure. The man that had brushed her back was now turned all the way towards her and she could feel the pressure at the small of her back as he started to stroke her back. She would just pretend not to notice. Or the fact that she now had a blonde woman directly beside her. Mori couldn’t see her features, but could feel the intense stare of the female as she gazed down at the petite Asian woman.

WIth a thought she forced her body to stop producing said chemicals. While he might not be claustrophobic, she was starting to feel that way. The problem was, that, it was like perfume. You could stop pumping it into the air, but the scent is going to linger for a long time afterwards, and she had just poured a whole bottle out.

She tried to inch away from the two people that were now crowding her personal space, but there wasn’t any place to go. Trying not to let the fact that she was getting uncomfortable show, she tried to continue on having a conversation. Or the fact that she was utterly confused by the simply dressed man that was now, so it seemed, buying -her- a drink.
April 10, 2018 03:46 pm

Tiber Loche

'You look human enough, despite genetic questionability. I’d have to get a taste before I could say for sure.'

Tiber's eyes had fixated curiously on the bartender, who seemed to be very aggressive in pouring his next drink. The large(r) man did his best to keep from making eye contact, unwilling to elevate the strangers aggravation anymore than he had intended. Which he hadn't. It was not a night for fighting. All he wanted to do was get drunk. Or at least as drunk as he could before his body burned through the rye and rendered him sober once again.

He'd get at least a good hour out of the night if he played his cards right.

Then a chord plucks within him, struck oddly by the words that the woman had spoken. He looked human enough. True. Because he was. Kind of. But no one would be getting a taste of Tiber Loche tonight. That was the universes plan for a different day, and he certainly wouldn't go easily.

With a shake of his head, he pulls the refilled glass to his lips and takes a sip. Though his eyes continue to shift from the tumbler in front of him to the woman who stood at his side.

Although it probably wasn't wise, Tiber left his wallet seated right next to his glass, battered brown leather now splashed with sticky liquor from where he sat for the last hour. With his free hand, he flopped open one side and fished for a few bills. When his fingers secured their spots around the crummy tens, he'd lay them neatly against the counter and close his wallet once more.

He swears he can hear the bartender cursing at him beneath his breath.

Something was painfully off. Tiber can feel it in how thick the tension grows between each patron in the bar. The small hairs that graze the back of his neck prick at his skin, the small shiver darting down his spine like lightning. It's an uncomfortable feeling, but it doesn't show on his face.

The man is well practiced.

Tiber decides to play cute, allowing the edges of his mouth to quirk up into the shadow of a smirk. His eyes lie briefly over the hands that attempt to tug the woman into an opposing direction, and he notices how uncomfortable she seems.

"I can't say for sure that any woman has outwardly requested to taste me." He's pointedly cheeky, the top half of his expression threatening to expose him as displeased with the behaviors of the strangers around them. "Usually dinner comes first."

He smiles. Wide enough so that the crinkles around his eyes expose many years fueled by a lack of sleep and too much moonshine. It's meant to be comforting. To show that he's taken up participation in a playful bout of banter. But the people closing in on them start to make him a little...

Itchy.

"It's kind of loud here, don't you think?" Tiber purposefully speaks as though he were trying to holler over rowdy voices and thumping music. His fingers are still wrapped around his glass when he sets it on the bar, but finds himself leaning forward so that she can hear him more clearly. "We could find somewhere a little less..." His thunderous gaze moves from wandering hands, to aggressive stares, and then finally they settle on her. "Crowded."

Perpetually cursed by his urge to do the right thing. Tiber obviously has no idea how this woman could be related to the bizarre behavior in the club.
April 15, 2018 02:56 pm
1
Actives (6) Fresh Blood (1) View All The Fallen (0) Graveyard
Anais, Soul Darklander, Blood Maw, Kristian Mcloud, Quinn Abernathy, Mallory Quarters  Shekinah Nazarian    
Home | Profile | Forums | F.A.Q. | Donate | Terms of Use | Privacy Policy | Contact Us
Created by Arctic Moon Studios. All rights reserved. © Bloodletting 2006-2016

Official Sites for Bloodletting
Blogger | Twitter | FB Group | FB Fan Page