- Local time
- Today 10:32 AM
- Messages
- 10
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Greetings everyone, and welcome to my interest thread!
I’ll start with my current story idea to see if any of this interests you. After is a bit about me, my writing style and my expectations.
The Idea:
I am looking to write a very dark story about two vampires who share a profound bond. Though they would be soulmates in their human life, they are reduced to navigating their love and this world by their unholy nature and the limitations of their curse. Together they are able cling to their fraying humanity while surviving vampire politics, external threats, monsters, and their own curse. This is something I would like to take place in modern times, maybe in a modern city near you, but I am open to other possibilities. This is a basic idea, and I am looking for a partner to help me build on this theme, and flesh out the story. World builders welcome!
About Me:
I am new to this site, but have written collaborative stories in the past. It has been quite sometime since than however, so I am rusty! I ask for a partner who is patient and willing to help drive the plot forward.
My Style and Expectations:
I’ll start with my current story idea to see if any of this interests you. After is a bit about me, my writing style and my expectations.
The Idea:
I am looking to write a very dark story about two vampires who share a profound bond. Though they would be soulmates in their human life, they are reduced to navigating their love and this world by their unholy nature and the limitations of their curse. Together they are able cling to their fraying humanity while surviving vampire politics, external threats, monsters, and their own curse. This is something I would like to take place in modern times, maybe in a modern city near you, but I am open to other possibilities. This is a basic idea, and I am looking for a partner to help me build on this theme, and flesh out the story. World builders welcome!
To Sarina the rain did not wash the city clean; it only wet the grime into a sticky mess. High in her industrial loft overlooking Belltown she could see the bustle of a Friday night in Seattle. Cars were piled in the streets, horns honking and tempers flaring, as the evening drizzle drenched everything in a slimy wetness. It was a spacious industrial loft of exposed brick and steel beams, while a wall of windows overlooked Puget Sound. Books from philosophy to rope bondage were strewn about, some carefully placed and book marked, while others were used as coasters for empty blood bags. A leather jacket lay haphazardly thrown over a high back leather chair as the Idles shred away on high def speakers in the background.
Sarina leaned against the massive windows watching the lights of the ferry boats as they plowed their way across Puget Sound. She noticed her reflection for a moment. Long hair, black as pitch, lay straight across her shoulders and back, as her sharp features and dark eyes stared back at her. She touched the window, her fingers tracing the reflection of her midriff, her ebony skin looking dulled and matte, contrasting the Superheaven half shirt and jeans she wore.
She tilted her head slightly while watching the reflection of her lean muscled form. Had her heart still beat she thought it would beat boldly for what stared back at her. Brujah energy burned brightly in her form, and in a way that illuminated the velvety charcoal of her skin, and a lithe energy to her powerful pantheresque physique.
Sarina turned as she felt Franz enter the room. Even her supernatural hearing could not catch the Banu Haqim entering the loft. Rather it was the motion of her Beast that alerted her. That thing that lived at the base of her spine, that thing that had already damned her soul to hell, and would eventually destroy her uncoiled with snake like grace as it recognized another predator: the judge, the assassin, the Banu Haqim. They should not work. They were oil and water, fire and ice. She, an unrepentant Anarch, and him, a Scourge for the Camarilla.
Sarina pushed off the window, her movements fierce but relaxed as she padded across the floor.
“Your late Franz,” she quipped, the corners of her mouth tugging up into a cold smile. “How am I supposed to start the revolution without you?” She stopped inches from him, invading his space, with her mouth so close that he would have felt her breath if she had any. “Rough night at court or did you just get lost in the shadows on your way here?” More than hunger filled the room; it was the magnetic pull between them that defied every law of the Camarilla.
Franz wrapped his arms around her with possessive ease, the stark white of his hands flashing against the charcoal lush of her midriff. He pulled her feral body against his. His blonde hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail, accentuating the sharp clear lines of his predatory face. “Do I need to arrest you? This feels like a ploy to get me to break out the hand cuffs.”
Sarina slid her hands up the front of his black leather trench coat till her fingers were laced behind his neck. It never stopped being a thrill, the raw chaos of her clan clashing with the deadly precision of his. She tilted her head back, exposing the sleek line of her neck, taunting the Beast within him before snapping back and locking her eyes with his.
“Is that a threat judge?” she asked, her voice low and sultry. “You know how I feel about authority figures. I usually tear them to pieces. But you,” she shook her head slowly, “I might make an exception for you and your cuffs.”
Had he required air he would have pulled in a sharp breath at this moment. Even now, after all this time, he was still enamored by her wild chaotic charms. “Unfortunately,” he continued, his voice dropping to a growl, “the one who broke the Traditions took longer to track down than I had anticipated.”
“So, who was the lucky soul?” Sarina asked, “A thin blood who forgot the Traditions? Or did the Prince send you after somebody with actual teeth?”
Franz tightened his arms, pulling her body flush with his. They were cold statues in the moonlight, but the sensation of being so close to her wild untamed spirit sent a thrill through him that he had thought long dead.
“Perceptive as always,” Franz growled, a low guttural sound. “Yes, a thin blood who talked to much. He seemed to think he could talk his way out of anything.” His expression hardened slightly as the mask of the judge slipped on. “That is, until he met me.”
Sarina let out a low throaty laugh. She leaned all her weight into him, enjoying the solidity of his frame. They were cold against cold; obsidian against granite. It was a terrifying feeling, but it thrilled her Brujah blood to its core.
“Ah, another loud mouthed thin blood,” she joked, her fingers reached up grabbing his pony tail, pulling on it playfully. "The city is full of them lately. All noise and no fury. So tragic.”
Her eyes shimmered in the pale moonlight as she looked deep into Franz’ cold blue eyes, and her expression softened a fraction. She could vividly picture how it must have gone down. The arrogant neonate, boasting and bragging, then the crushing silence as the executioner stepped out of the shadows. The Banu Haqim did not just kill things; they ended them. They brought a finality that even her clan, with all of their rage and chaos, struggled to replicate.
“I bet he didn’t even hear you move,” she whispered, her forehead pressing against his. “That’s the part of you that gets me Franz. You are so quiet. It’s unnerving.” She pulled her head back slightly, her eyes flashing with hunger and adoration. “So the judge delivered his sentence. The streets are safe. The Traditions of the Camarilla are saved,” she proclaimed in a mocking tone as she pulled her head back slightly. “Does that mean you are off the clock? Or do I still have to share you with the Prince?”
(Full discloser: Nah, I can't turn out stuff like this everyday. This is more of a once every 3-4 day reply, LOL! But hopefully I can get faster with practice)
Sarina leaned against the massive windows watching the lights of the ferry boats as they plowed their way across Puget Sound. She noticed her reflection for a moment. Long hair, black as pitch, lay straight across her shoulders and back, as her sharp features and dark eyes stared back at her. She touched the window, her fingers tracing the reflection of her midriff, her ebony skin looking dulled and matte, contrasting the Superheaven half shirt and jeans she wore.
She tilted her head slightly while watching the reflection of her lean muscled form. Had her heart still beat she thought it would beat boldly for what stared back at her. Brujah energy burned brightly in her form, and in a way that illuminated the velvety charcoal of her skin, and a lithe energy to her powerful pantheresque physique.
Sarina turned as she felt Franz enter the room. Even her supernatural hearing could not catch the Banu Haqim entering the loft. Rather it was the motion of her Beast that alerted her. That thing that lived at the base of her spine, that thing that had already damned her soul to hell, and would eventually destroy her uncoiled with snake like grace as it recognized another predator: the judge, the assassin, the Banu Haqim. They should not work. They were oil and water, fire and ice. She, an unrepentant Anarch, and him, a Scourge for the Camarilla.
Sarina pushed off the window, her movements fierce but relaxed as she padded across the floor.
“Your late Franz,” she quipped, the corners of her mouth tugging up into a cold smile. “How am I supposed to start the revolution without you?” She stopped inches from him, invading his space, with her mouth so close that he would have felt her breath if she had any. “Rough night at court or did you just get lost in the shadows on your way here?” More than hunger filled the room; it was the magnetic pull between them that defied every law of the Camarilla.
Franz wrapped his arms around her with possessive ease, the stark white of his hands flashing against the charcoal lush of her midriff. He pulled her feral body against his. His blonde hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail, accentuating the sharp clear lines of his predatory face. “Do I need to arrest you? This feels like a ploy to get me to break out the hand cuffs.”
Sarina slid her hands up the front of his black leather trench coat till her fingers were laced behind his neck. It never stopped being a thrill, the raw chaos of her clan clashing with the deadly precision of his. She tilted her head back, exposing the sleek line of her neck, taunting the Beast within him before snapping back and locking her eyes with his.
“Is that a threat judge?” she asked, her voice low and sultry. “You know how I feel about authority figures. I usually tear them to pieces. But you,” she shook her head slowly, “I might make an exception for you and your cuffs.”
Had he required air he would have pulled in a sharp breath at this moment. Even now, after all this time, he was still enamored by her wild chaotic charms. “Unfortunately,” he continued, his voice dropping to a growl, “the one who broke the Traditions took longer to track down than I had anticipated.”
“So, who was the lucky soul?” Sarina asked, “A thin blood who forgot the Traditions? Or did the Prince send you after somebody with actual teeth?”
Franz tightened his arms, pulling her body flush with his. They were cold statues in the moonlight, but the sensation of being so close to her wild untamed spirit sent a thrill through him that he had thought long dead.
“Perceptive as always,” Franz growled, a low guttural sound. “Yes, a thin blood who talked to much. He seemed to think he could talk his way out of anything.” His expression hardened slightly as the mask of the judge slipped on. “That is, until he met me.”
Sarina let out a low throaty laugh. She leaned all her weight into him, enjoying the solidity of his frame. They were cold against cold; obsidian against granite. It was a terrifying feeling, but it thrilled her Brujah blood to its core.
“Ah, another loud mouthed thin blood,” she joked, her fingers reached up grabbing his pony tail, pulling on it playfully. "The city is full of them lately. All noise and no fury. So tragic.”
Her eyes shimmered in the pale moonlight as she looked deep into Franz’ cold blue eyes, and her expression softened a fraction. She could vividly picture how it must have gone down. The arrogant neonate, boasting and bragging, then the crushing silence as the executioner stepped out of the shadows. The Banu Haqim did not just kill things; they ended them. They brought a finality that even her clan, with all of their rage and chaos, struggled to replicate.
“I bet he didn’t even hear you move,” she whispered, her forehead pressing against his. “That’s the part of you that gets me Franz. You are so quiet. It’s unnerving.” She pulled her head back slightly, her eyes flashing with hunger and adoration. “So the judge delivered his sentence. The streets are safe. The Traditions of the Camarilla are saved,” she proclaimed in a mocking tone as she pulled her head back slightly. “Does that mean you are off the clock? Or do I still have to share you with the Prince?”
(Full discloser: Nah, I can't turn out stuff like this everyday. This is more of a once every 3-4 day reply, LOL! But hopefully I can get faster with practice)
About Me:
I am new to this site, but have written collaborative stories in the past. It has been quite sometime since than however, so I am rusty! I ask for a partner who is patient and willing to help drive the plot forward.
My Style and Expectations:
- Frequency: I typically reply once per day, but there maybe days that I have to skip. I will let you know when this happens.
- Length: I typically write 500+ words per post. I can write more, though it may require additional time (I am not fast).
- Communication: I would like frequent OOC communication to discuss the plot and ensure we are on the same page. If I find the story isn't working for me, I will let you know rather than ghosting; I would appreciate the same courtesy.
- Partner Requirements: Please have a strong grasp of grammar and punctuation, and be able to match my output.
- Flaws: I prefer realistic characters over "overpowered" ones. Flaws make the story more compelling.
- Mature Themes: Smut is welcome when appropriate, but it should not serve as the primary plot point.
- Considering the nature of this story, all characters will be 21+ in both real age and apparent age.
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