WHO: @thecursed-starters
WHEN: 31st of May, 2024.
Type: For Vampires. Vampire only bar.
WHERE: Elliot's Bar, 5* Plaza — New York City. (NOT ATTENDING CARNIVAL)
The rain-soaked asphalt stuffed itself up his nose, the outside of Elliot's looking inviting after the day he'd had.
The off-kiltered, dingy orange neon sign flickering, the grime of the years passed clinging to the light. Just a year ago, he would've never stepped foot inside a place like this. Had no need too, but even now he could feel that burning fire in his throat, the way his skin felt a little too tight, too dry. There were a few places where his kind could come, where it wasn't acceptable to drink — to take what he needed.
He'd never wanted this life, but albeit, he wasn't ready to forfeit it.
Aziel hadn't long left work, his muscles ached, not from over-exertion but from the similar aching in his gums, that endless stabbing pain -- alerting him to what he already knew. He was hungry, starving, even. Dressed in a three piece off-grey tailored suit said what it needed too, that a corporate man was entering the facility. But here, it meant jack shit. In this world, tapping power came from age and alliance...the corporate world still held weight, especially when two vampires were partnered together. Still, Aziel moved with as powerful a stride as he could muster, jaw tight as he pushed through the doors to the bar.
Walking in, the hum of conversation dipped momentarily, eyes flicking towards the new arrival. Aziel was no stranger to such scrutiny; his life had always been a performance, a delicate balance of power and perception.
Sharp features suited Aziel perfectly, but it'd never been that way before. Back when he'd been human. At 39, he carried the weight of his crumbling life, the way each day felt like a battle to keep hold of something he'd once had. His father’s stoic teachings,his mother’s moral compass shaped him into the man he was today, yet the foundation of conflict that had settled within him had been from the actions to save his father's business: a hostile takeover was no easy feat. But he'd done it. At his own expense.
His wife, his strength, deserved better than the monster he feared he was turning into.
"O negative, please." the words falling from his mouth, turning to lean his back against the bar, his lips setting into a thin line. "Any news?" the words were quiet, although he was aware of his current company. Silence, momentary, passed.
"Not for a week. I heard that there was another shipment in a week." The bar man, Albert, stated while preparing the drink. They'd met a few times, easygoing and laid back was how he seemed nintey-five percent of the time. But if you looked a little deeper, there was something different. Darker, more intelligent.
"They're trafficking blood, Alb. That's..." He still had a moral compass.
Aziel scanned the room, noting the varied clientele – a mix of regulars and drifters, all seeking something their craving. He was just another one among many, each with their own battles, their own stories. How many had been turned against their will? How many were there like him in here alone? Or who'd made the choice for a life of eternity. His wife, no doubt, was looking at the clock, imagining all kinds of scenarios in her head. But what could he tell her?
That he was a fucking vampire? No, he thought, not. He'd been normal. Once.
The bar offered no answers, just his meal. Tomorrow, the world would demand more of him – his company, the hunger, the façade he attempted to maintain. But for now, in this small pocket of time, Aziel allowed himself to simply be. A man, a husband, a son.
"Let me know if you hear anything -- " He stopped, lips parting. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
