dirtyandtrue | New Orleans

[Rawr!]

New Orleans had always been a sweet spot for Matthew. From the older times where it hadn't taken on the neon and sanitation of later years, before it gained new scars that the enduring people always embraced and healed over in their own way, this pocket of an otherwise unforgiving and, frankly, horribly uncomfortable environment.

He took to it like a fish to water, or vultures to the dead, haunting it's streets night after night, looking for just the right young pretty woman to fall into the trap that was his general existence. He was perfect in the different casts of dark and bright light, dressed in a perfectly fitted suit that was open at the collar, giving him a casual look despite the silver headed cane that he carried openly and obviously didn't need. Dark eyes scanned the crowd just as casually, falling on one particularly fetching brunette. The vampire smirked roguishly.

He was both the bait and the trap and he was feeling particularly fantastic about himself this specific evening.

Most of Airy's trips had a particular purpose or goal that had to be achieved. This one was no different but after learning that she'd be going to New Orleans, she had planned some time to look around and have some fun. It was an amazing city with a rich culture and amazing people. She wanted to see as much of it as she could.

She wore a purple and white sleeveless dress with little flecks of silver light shining like stars along her skirts. Everything about Airy lit up the room, from her clothing choice to her smile. She captivated the people around her with a rare open sort of kindness.

Airy looked up when she felt the soft pressure of Matt's gaze. For a moment or two she couldn't look away; she was transfixed by his gaze. The moment passed and she looked away to softly whisper to those around her. After excusing herself she walked over towards Matt, unsure exactly what she was going to say to him. Airy was a friendly person but she rarely went up and talked to handsome strangers like this.

When she reached Matt she hesitated, feeling a warm blush color her cheeks. "Hi. I'm Airy."

His drink was handed off for a refill as Airy approached and when he looked back from the exchange to see her coming, the roguish smile deepened, turning a comforting warm in its unique talent of making the rest of the room melt away.

"Hello, chère tulipe. Can I get you a drink?"

Yes, he understood the topic gap that came with this kind of approach, but he'd been doing this a long time and a drink was usually the safest place to start.

There was a small voice in the back of Airy's head reminding her to be cautious. Not that Airy had ever listened to the lessons of Stranger Danger but she had Gus and Luther regularly reminding her not to trust people. Even so, Airy couldn't help but feel at ease around Matthew.

Maybe it was his smile? Either way, Airy didn't want to believe that he was a bad person.

"Oh. Yeah." She was a little surprised. This would be the first time a stranger has bought Airy a drink. "Surprise me." She didn't know what she wanted to drink and didn't have a vast knowledge of alcohol.

"Are you from here?"

Matthew considered her for a moment before speaking to the bartender, eyes not leaving the soft curve of her face as he ordered her a cosmopolitan.

"I wish I could say that I was but no. Just visiting, after too many years away. And you? Are you here for business or pleasure?"

Former or latter, Matt already knew he wanted her. Her cheeks were too sweet to not be colored with the heat of desire, breathless and clawing in passion - but he was getting ahead of himself. Drinks first. One step at a time.

The bright blue hue of Airy's eyes glanced at the bartender and then back to the man in front of her.

"Business. Technically." She glanced behind her to see if her friends were sill watching her. Of course they were. "But the plan tonight is to have fun. Taking a break from all that." Airy didn't get a lot of chances to break away and have fun.

"I didn't catch your name." Or he hadn't offered it to her.

"That is the best kind of plan," he said, adjusting his casual lean on the bar top slightly, hand over his own wrist to pull together a perfectly irresistible package of charm before sticking his hand out towards her, palm up. While it would likely be interpreted as an invitation for a handshake, he intended to turn her knuckles up for a brief kiss, after his introduction.

"Matthew DiVigny, at your service." Her hand was free to be pulled away at any time and he would let her do the withdrawing. "I'm here for much the same reasons." He glanced over at her friends, flashing them a brief, friendly broadening of his smile. "They look like a fun group to unwind with, if I may say so."

"I think so too." She agreed with a warm smile.

Airy glanced down at his palm and without thinking she slipped her hand in his. She felt her fingers brushing along his palm as if it was happening in slow motion. It hadn't looked like he was going to shake her hand and, while she had been right, she was surprised to feel his breath brush against her knuckles.

Warmth spread through her cheeks as she slowly pulled her hand from his. "It's nice to meet you." Airy heard herself speak but didn't remember moving her lips.

"Ah." She exhaled a soft huff of laughter, her smile returning in earnest as she glanced towards the bar. "Maybe. They're more business and maybe a little over protective. It's hard to get time to myself." You run off one time and everyone expects you do it a second time.

New Orleans circa 2013 is a supernatural hot mess with the werewolves, witches, vampires, and humans, all fighting for a truce or control -- sometimes it's hard to tell.

And sometimes, it's hard for her to tell where she lies in that. She's been recently turned into a vampire, making her a wolf-vampire hybrid, and there's a lot to get used to -- namely, being dead ... though technically her body still functions as if it were alive (heartbeat, hair growth, digestion, and all) as long as she feeds on blood; and the whole, you know, needing to drink blood to not 'die' (for real, as in never-coming-back for real) thing. So, as the supernatural and human forces fight, she straddles two lines.

And sometimes she needs a break from that drama, so this calls for a night on the New Orleans town. Hello, music, lights, the best food and drinks she's ever had, and pretty people. Possibly pretty tasty people.

The New Orleans quarter had always been a little turbulent, depending on the era it was visited it - Matthew had seen it at it's worst and it's best, and each view held it's own resilient magic that was alluring to the nearly 500 year Brujah. It was also the reason that he was back again tonight. Nevermind the Clan meetings that were scheduled for a few nights later, Matthew was here to relish the livelyhood of the nightlife. The loud open bars that blasted rock and roll and blues, and moved with a thousand warm bodies begging for just the right soul to show them a good time.

Of course, when a werewolf steps into his bar, it automatically taints his night a little bit, as the dark haired and surprisingly attractive woman suddenly gets the whole of his weighty attention. She smelled... off. Strange, in a way that set the hairs of his neck on end and a tingle of dangerous excitement across his skin. Taking a shallow, measured sip of the whiskey on the rocks in his hand, Matthew weighed his options. Violence was largely out of the question - the Masqurede had to be upheld and the last thing he wanted was to pull down the fury of the creatures that really ruled the night world of New Orleans.

The question was - Did she also subscribe to those rules? Something he would weigh as he watched her make her way in through the people.

Edited 2017-09-30 18:01 (UTC)

For now, she is here to drink and chill at a new place. New to her, anyway. so when she slides up to the bar and gives a curious kind of squint at her options for a moment, she eventually turns to the person next to her. "What's mediocre, and terrible here?" That would leave the good stuff as the rest, once those two categories were accounted for. It's a roundabout way of asking, sure.

knew

There were too many years. After year 300, Matthew had stopped paying as much attention, letting himself float through his decades in haze of blood-lusts, or powder lust, surfacing into the scant definition long enough to fulfill his duties as the executioner of the Camilla court in Europe. Now, memories of then and what had been real in his world were fluid, mixing into each other with the inaccuracy of the lazy and those who lived too much in the moment.

Of't times, he'd see a face that was impossible, someone from a hundred years ago who he knew wasn't a vampire, but it would only take a blink of his eye and a bit of focus to rationalize out that no - that wasn't who he thought.

Lydia's visage at the bar across from the table where he'd set up with a drink and a cigarette was taken much the same way. She looked like the Lydia he knew, sweet, sassy, knockout Lydia, but he was sure that there was no way the red-head could be here.

The universe didn't work that way. Still, he could feel the weight of her eyes and he finally turned his to meet them boldly, lips curling in a charming lure. His glass is lifted in a cheers, head inclining fractionally before he jerks it softly towards the seat, silently offering the gorgeous look alike the seat across from him.

Maybe it was insanity, to think he might relive those years with a face close enough to Lydia's that he could enjoy the memory of her.

New Orleans

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let's mash their NOLA's together and see what happens??

LETS

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