ladyxmarixcastilloâ:
tw: drugs ; mild violence ; language
There was something about the nightlife that made Mari feel alive. The heavy bass, the dancers, the way that people of all species celebrated the night with their seduction to lights, music, drinksâŠbodies. She was still young and felt the thrill of what life had to offer, and if she didnât have to manage the club, sheâd be out on the floor with some sorry sod that she had no intent of actually getting to know. Though of course, everyone who knew the Castillo family, knew they were more than just a club, selling arms in the basement to wealthy and potential buyers for the crown⊠amongst other things that were asked of them. It was also no secret that â like mother like daughter, that Mari didnât tolerate disrespect, and when sheâd seen a patron taking drugs on the dancefloor, Mari nearly lost it.Â
She motioned for the bodyguards to grab the individual, much to everyoneâs confusion in the surrounding area, and the individual struggling in the guardâs grasp. However, the guard had been strong and thus unable to be swayed. Bringing the high dancer before Mari, sheâd slowly stand closer to them, eyes practically piercing into their soul if she could, with an anger she rarely showed. âWhere did you get the drugs?â Knowing that lately, this was not the first time the drugs were coming in, and she did not appreciate not knowing.Â
The person being held by the guard was far too gone to speak before Mari would draw her lips to their ear. âGet the fuck out of my club and donât come back unlessââ sheâd threateningly grip onto the fabric of their pants where theirâ parts had been. ââyou want me to cut off your cock and feed it to you after torturing you into giving me the information I want,â Mariâs crimson hues would practically glitter, before pulling and nodding at the guard to throw them out. The vampiress did not play when it came to narcotics and wouldnât have buyers in her club. It was bad for business. Her mother taught her that.Â
Upon turning, sheâd realized she had an audience to which a smile finally made it onto her features. âSorry about that~!â Stepping towards the individual. âCare for a drink? Iâll even make it myself. I make a strong margarita on the rocks,â her voice still a bit loud to speak over the music. If only to set aside the previous encounter for another time.
@ paradisusstart
George could be seen semi-frequently at Belladonna nightclub-- if you looked for him. More often than not, he was on the sidelines, lurking in the shadows. After all, it wouldnât be pleasant for him should any other staff realize heâd gotten in for free, thanks to Isak, his favorite little heroin junkie. Not that he peddled heroin there in the nightclub- goodness, no. Usually, these types of people wanted ecstasy, molly, acid, cocaine, pot. Shit like that. And who would he be to deny the people what they wanted, especially when he had so much of it? So, he skulked around the parts of the Belladonna where the flashing lights and neon strobes didnât quite reach, only stepping out of the darkness when he saw what he was looking for. After doing this for a few hundred years, he knew the expression of a drug-seeker like the back of his hand.
Theyâd look a bit lost, perhaps coming down from their most recent high, but with a type of persistence that suggested they knew what they were looking for. If they were sober, they might look a bit more focused, annoyed, paranoid, or a combination of the three. But then, George would appear with his knowing eyes and smooth voice, somehow hushed enough to stay between him and a client but loud enough to be heard over the deafening music. And then, heâd whisk them away to a more private corner, where they could have their exchange in peace.
George had been doing exactly that for a few hours now-- at least three, heâd reckon, and all had been going par for the course until a woman started to make a commotion. He was in the middle of trying to get to someone who had the look on their face, but she was in between him and the would-be customer. For a few seconds, he couldnât quite understand what was happening between the loudness of the music and the people around him, but the phrase âWhere did you get the drugs?â Certainly caught his attention; and he realized that he, albeit vaguely, recognized the face of the man who had been caught. He sold to him earlier. Shit. George took a deep breath, exhaled, and with a calm and neutral expression tried to physically distance himself from the situation, but the tightly packed bodies had him trapped right in front of her. And then she turned towards him. No big deal, he had a poker face to die for and had wormed his way out of far stickier situations than this before.
âIâm more of a martini bloke mâself.â The Australian flashed her a small smile. âBut a drinkâs a drink, âspecially when itâs being offered.â






