Bear with
Closed starter @bearruiz
Where: Supernaturals
When: Any time after 10pm
The night was going suspiciously smoothly, Mariah had noticed. Dancers were ready and waiting for their set allocated dance times, there was no mistake in music, or lost/broken costumes, patrons were all on their best behaviour, even generous, and no one had tried to enter the club that were barred or under suspicion. It was good, good for the performers, good for staff, good for general morale, and Mariah was happy for everyone, but… she was chomping at the bit.
The blonde stood at the entrance of the club, just in the doorway since was not a que for entrance. It was the middle of the week so there were fewer patrons – but they were generally the saner, financially stable and more respectful clientele.
Mariah stood dressed in faded mom jeans rolled at the ankle, a white sleeveless crop top, her usual black leather jacket and a pair of military heeled boots. She usually lived in flats, but the performers had insisted that a vampire who felt no pain or discomfort in heals, and who stood at only five foot four should be wearing heels, and Mariah – who had a huge soft spot for the dancers she protected – had obliged only recently and purchased a few pairs of heals, but according to her preferred grunge aesthetic. It was the only part of her ensemble that looked remotely dressed up. Her blonde hair hung in waves to her waist, brushed but not styled, as usual, and on her face, she wore nothing. With perfectly smooth, flawless, porcelain vampiric skin, Mariah didn’t see the point. Sure, her long naturally gold lashes were a bit of a statement in comparison to the dark lacquered lashes and falsies of the women around her, but Mariah was too restless to spend time sitting around painting her face.
That same restlessness was the reason she stood with her arms folded across her chest, her weight resting on one healed foot, the toes of her other foot tapping the ground so rapidly it was a blur to mortal eyes.
She had not fought that Monday at the cage, and when her violent urges were not expressed in some way, she found her sobriety (not killing) even harder than usual. Her delicate facial features were pressed into a tight frown, her rosebud lips pressed into a wonky grimace of dissatisfaction. Despite her petite size and frame, Mariah looked every inch the predator due to her naturally narrow green eyes and the fangs she rarely retracted back into her gums. The woman was no traditional beauty, her strange smile and upturned nose often off putting to some, but she was rather memorable and striking to look at.
A familiar scent carried by the warm wind crossed Mariah’s upturned little nose and she flitted from the doorway to standing directly outside the entrance to wait for him. She knew the scent well, being that he was regular and a friend of that fool Roman who also worked as security at Supernatural’s – though not that night. And so, Mariah was ready to lay her narrow eyes on werewolf.
