Another Night (open)

[Bill Schwarz]

Billa strolled out into the opening, his now chocolate eyes scanning the scene. Bodies were pack upon bodies, out on the dance floor having a good time. He sat down on the chair and ordered a whiskey, just as a cover. Occasionally he sipped on it, but most of the time he talked to some people, and other times he just relaxed as the music blared.

He was dressed in his usually out going manner today, all black. His comet boots, with his skinny leather jeans tucked underneath. He wore a long trench coat, buttoned on the top, with a black shirt underneath, along with his regular makeup and piercings. Really, for him, he dressed expensively, things catches his eyes often, but the difference between now and back then, he could afford it. He was rich and could get anything he wanted. Of course something doesn’t come without a price, for the money to come, he needed either to have a good job, or he needed to live a long time. But having a good job needed a resume, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with; too much work, and if everyone knows Bill, he never does more then he needs to. So the only other option would be living for a long time. That was the one he picked, and the consequences cost him his life. But he was okay with it. What would he do now? No point in a change.

It was just anther night, at another bar. He didn’t plan on doing much tonight, just chill with the humans. He licked his lips as people walked by, the scent still lingering. The smell was…intoxicating…it was…tempting. He took yet another casual sip of his drink, watching the massive masses of bodies move in unison to the beat. It was so unlike a German party, it was small, not too chaotic, and yet still loud, it still had drinks, and it still had teens. Yet, all parties are the same. Some get into the night too much, had a little too much to drink. And unfortunately for them, sometimes they pay the price for their stupidity. But not tonight, no… tonight, he was bored, full, and wasn’t interested in a snack. Tonight he was looking for something else to do, just to amuse himself for a bit. Maybe a friend?

He leaned back and smirked, a friend. Right. He knew he never opened up like some women wanted him to, but his past friends are all…well…dead. Its been too long. Maybe someone would catch his eyes here. But he doubt it, he was always a picky person when it came to friends, that person would have to be really interesting for him to glance their way. Then again, who would come over when he had a whole ‘unnatural’ vibe about him? He leaned back in his chair, sighing again. Friends…not really. All he was here was to relax and listen to the lasted music at the club. He had to admit, it wasn’t bad, but uninteresting, not many here tonight. He hoped someone enters and does something. Anything at all.

[Dale McCall]

Dale loved clubs. There was just something about it that got you caught up in the music as it pumped through the club; each person effectively oblivious in their own world of vinyl records and beats.

Thank the almighty Ruler’s of the universe that the legal drinking age was eighteen, in London. London club’s were certainly not for the faint hearted. London’s fetish scene scorned the casual dresser. For Fetish clubbers, the more extreme and perverse, the better. Dress to sex-press, if you will. The dress code varied between clubs. In some cases there would be no admittance if you were not dressed in the right gear, while other clubs preferred members to simply use their imagination.

Punch ups were an expected occurrence. Though Dale was a rare one for getting involved in punch ups in a bar but he’d witnessed his fair share during his life and had never had the interest in getting involved. He usually sat out of the way pretending to sip his drink and watching the blood and fists fly and listening to the crowds either screaming or jeering the fighters on until security hurried over to put an end to everything.

What Dale loved most, he thought, was the fact that he just seemed to fit into clubs. Even in this little town, everyone was dressed their best when they head out to the clubs. Dale remembered clubbing with friends in London, before coming down to Firefly Fields. One of them, a fairly misanthropic young man had commented that he always loved watching Dale in clubs: the clothes he wore, the way he held himself, the elegance and confidence, the way he was always open and friendly. They were complete polar opposites.

He loved to watch people and he loved people watching.

So do you, don’t lie. Yes, you, the one in the back, pointing at yourself and shaking your head in disbelief. You love it when people watched too, because everyone does. Still not sold on the idea? Let me put it in perspective for you: when you’re on the subway, what do you do? Look around you, see people. When you’re sitting outside at a café, what do you do? Look around you, see people. When you’re, oh, I don’t know, sitting in a crowded bar, trying not to fall off your barstool, what do you do? Look around, se—okay, have I made my point yet? Moral of story: like it or not, you people watch, and you enjoy it too.

Dale twirled on the dance floor, his dark eyes glittering with laughter and barely contained energy, like electrified beams as he danced to the rhythm and beat of the vinyl records that vibrated through the the dance hall. Despite the fact that you had to practically yell into someone’s ear in order for them to hear you, he talked animatedly to a group of people who he’d just been introduced to and couldn’t remember any of their names.

He was clad in something he considered a little more casual tonight, parading around the dance floor in red drainpipe jeans, white stack-heeled boots, a white shirt with a print of a Basquait skull on the front, a black jacket with a studded collar over the top of that. On his right hand, on the digit closest to his little finger was another silver ring in the shape of a skull's face, complete with ruby eyes.

Long coal black hair stuck out around a creamy-white trilby with a black stripe perched upon his crown, looking slightly disheveled and unkempt. His large eyes appearing even more larger from behind the black curtain of a fringe and a crooked nose, a daring smirk flashing across his features, showing two rows of slightly crooked teeth.

Thinking about it, everything about Dale had always been a little crooked. Crooked nose, crooked teeth and then there was his cheekbones and eyes that were just too big. Every one of his features fought for dominance of his thin face. He was unnusual, he loved to be different and it seemed to make him rather striking. Even wearing rediculous clothes, he seemed to pull it off fairly well. I mean, how many people did you know actually went out dressed like that?

He knew not to make a huge fuss over his hair, before leaving home tonight. After all, he’d be dancing most of the time, and didn’t plan on heading back till late. It was a little later than 9pm, judging from when Dale had last asked for the time.

The dark-haired Londoner let out a short exhale of breath as he weaved his way through the groups of people dancing on the dance floor, and away from the music. It might’ve been cold outside, but inside the club, it was difficult to tell. Dale had arrived at the club at seven and had been walking back and forth from the bar, to the dance floor since then. His main drink of choice that night had been a daiquiri; a marvelous little drink made with light rum, lime juice and sugar syrup with ice cubes. Girly yes, but it was cheap, and since he really had little intention of drinking many human drinks, it was easy to just pass it on to another girl once he was tired of carrying it around with him.

Dale soon found himself sat on some kind of stool by the bar of the club, where he was now watching everyone else dancing on the floor. His brow creased as he watched them gyrating and twirling, snogging and touching. The strobe light’s of the club distorting, and altering the colors of the dancers, disco-ball lights rolled over the walls, and he could see the dry ice of a smoke machine whooshed somewhere beside the DJ booth.

Acting drunk was never very hard. It was in Dale's nature to behave like a child; so really, he was only over-exxadurating his already outgoing personality. "S'cuse me barkeep!" He called over the bar, gesticulating as he spoke towards a bartender – or should I say bartendress – who was obviously the type of person who didn’t care how old you were as long as you gave her an acceptable tip. She hadn’t heard him, but it was taking a while to process. Leaning down the bar, Dale saw that she was attending to another patron. With a huff of annoyance, Dale sat back on the seat and started swinging backwards and forwards, unhappy that his pretty bartender had been ‘stolen’ from him.

Large eyes rolling over the other people in the area once more, there weren't many people that really caught Dale's attention. Apart from a few girls of course, there weren't really many people he wanted to speak to.

His last meal had been later that afternoon, so he wasn't hungry. If he was hungry then he wouldnt have come here in the first place. It was too high a risk; to hazard a chance of exposing himself for what he was. If only there were... wait. A little way down the bar, in a less occupied area was a young man in a coat. Now unless he was mistaken, and he was playing the faux drunk a little too well, Dale was sure that this guy was a familiar.

Was Dale not the only other vampire here in Forks who did not feast on the flesh of animals? As far as he knew, from the stories, the wolves of LaPush made it very clear that the hunting of any humans in Forks was prohibited. Dale had had to travel several towns over before he found a sufficient meal earlier on that day. What was this guy doing here, he couldnt help but wonder to himself.

Despite the fact that no one in the club seemed to think the guy worthy of talking to, Dale couldnt resist the oppertunity to cross over and talk to the man, regardless that he made the hair on the back of Dale’s neck stand on end, but he pretended not to notice, and took another sip from what little was left of his daiquiri, before he strolled over and sat on a bar stool beside the guy. "A'right? M'name's Dale. Wha's yours?" He held out his right palm towards the guy, in a gesture of shaking his hand. It was a bit of a poor beginning, but it was the first that Dale's individual braincell could come up with.

[Alice Esther Drew]

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tagged;; bill&&dale
notes;; wrote most of this by hand and is it ok if i join?
status;; complete
credits;; * KISS MY SASS of caution
words;; 1065
outfit;; clickkie!
lyrics;; blink 182

[Bill Schwarz]

Billa couldn’t believe it. It was that little shifter from the caves he saw earlier that week. And not only headed in the presence of one vampire, she chose two. Was she suicidal? Most likely. It wasn’t as if his scent smelled like any other human, no. Vampires smell pretty bad, especially to a shifter; what was she doing here again? And yet, there she was. He could tell she didn’t fit it. Maybe that was it; she was lost in thought about being an outcast. She was pale, not as pale as he was, but more then usual if she were to be compared with another shifter. And she was a little…he didn’t want to sound offending, but a bit slow. He could tell that she was approaching the club even before he saw her enter, and yet she didn’t notice them until she was sitting next to him.

The lights flashed, and bodies were pack, he expected this. Hell, he was watching two chicks get it on hot and heavy even before they both decided to disturb him. He glanced at the other vampire and gazed at him, his chocolate eyes sharp. Shaking hands? In a club? He must be drunk somehow. Bill figured. He was a vampire, then again, the man looked slightly familiar, but he’s seen a lot of people that are familiar. He didn’t really care. ”Bill Schwarz,” he replied smoothly, reaching over and shaking the cold one’s hand. Quickly, he gave a firm handshake before reaching back to his drink and taking a sip.

Billa turned his head and looked at the girl, his eyes shone of great amusement. She wasn’t thinking, it was one thing if she just noticed and quickly got up and walked away, but it was another to sit down with them. He held his breath. The stench was, almost unbearable. He leaned over anyways and whispered quietly in her ear. ”Mistake number one.” He moved away and leaned forward this time, his elbows resting on the table as he watched the two girls keep going, licking his lips lightly as he did so.

He sighed. The term ‘surrounded by idiots’ come to mind. Not really because of those two, but honestly, he was enjoying himself quite immensely. But it was too late, they came anyways. He looked to the vampire and nodded to him. ”Dale,you are a nomad I’m guessing,” The man was clearly not a ‘vegetarian’, and since he didn’t live Fork, he must have been a nomad. Good to know there are other like him around here.

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[Dale McCall]

By this time of night, the bar was packed with people in various states of alcaholic and narcotic distress. Several public displays of affection were taking place in what had earlier been considered the darker corners of the venue, but now, thanks to intermittent bursts of strobe lighting, their indiscretions were clearly visible, if a little disjuinted, giving their liaisons a pop video feel. The thumping music was loud enough to create an atmosphere and overall it was decadent enough to ensue that it would be described over e-mail on Saturday morning as a great party. Those who's recollections were sketchy would probably go so far as to say it has been fantastic.

As he sat with the fellow who introduced himself as Bill, Dale was not blind to the fact that they'd had another visitor, who decided to sit right beside them both. His large dark eyes flicked towards her, looking at her with interest. He'd never had a girl approach him and just sit there before, usually they'd at least say something. But this girl seemed very intent on just sitting, not aknowledging neither he, or Bill at all. Why was this, he wondered?

Perhaps her confidence was alcohol-assisted and while Dale had never set eyes on her before, he turned to face her direction briefly. She way she held herself looked tense, though she seemed very adament on not moving. Her body language seemed to beg, Help... Rescue me. She didnt seem to have any interest in talking to either he, or Bill, but she didnt seem to want to move (or perhaps she was incapeable of it). She smelt horrible. It was a terrible thing to say, yes, but it was true.

Despite the odour though, she was really very pretty; Her blue eyes seemed to radiate energy and her hair looked dark brown under the dim light's of the bar, cut in a way that made it look kinda boyish. With a slow blink of his dark eyes, Dale stared at the girl's blue eyes and felt a twinge of jelousy. He could remember a time where his eyes had been as blue as hers were. They'd been a powder blue, and he'd loved them. Now they constantly fluctuated between a crimson red and dark chocolate depending on his hunger. Neither color seemed to suit him at all.

Dale had heard a rumor that the vegetarian vampire's had tawny eyes. If that were true, and Dale decided that he wanted to join their plight, would that mean that his eyes would change color as well? He knew that he would never get his old blue eyes back, but if he had to choose, then he'd much better preffer golden eyes to crimson eyes any day. They'd even be easier to accesorise with. Who'd want to be wearing dark gloomy colors all the time? Ick!

With a few more rapid blinks, Dale realised that he'd stared too long and jerked his head round to focused on the empty glass between his palms, his hair falling like a dark curtain to hide his face. He didnt dare look back at her just in case she looked over and caught him staring again. From the sight and smell of the girl alone, it was clear she was far from being human, and judging from the way she held herself in front of he and Bill, she was thinking the exact same thing about them. Should he try to say anything? Introduce himself? Surely that wouldn't be inappropriate?

He wouldn't get a chance to however, as it was that moment the fellow beside him decided to pipe up once more, distracting Dale from his monologue retro turn of phrase. The guy, Bill as he called himself, was probably only a few years older than Dale (visually anyway), but from the way that he spoke, he sounded decades older.

"You guess righ' ma'e." Dale spoke with a cockney lilt, and smiled crookedly. Again noting the way that Bill spoke, he guessed that the goth had been a vampire for a while. "Jus' passing through Sea'le though." He was aware of the fact that the young girl sitting beside them may be listening in on the conversation. Neither had to know that he was planning on staying in Fork's, but if he was planning on sticking around, there was no used trying to hide it. He glanced over at the girl as he spoke as well, deciding to include her in on the conversation since it did not seem that she was going to be moving anytime soon. "I'm guessing the two of you are as well?" He leaned over so that he could cross his arms over the table to get a better look at the both of them.

[Alice Esther Drew]

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[/color] Came a sly, whispered voice from behind her, obviously one of the two vamps. I mean who else would smell that horrid. She retained the urge to shudder, her body remaining ridged, unable still to turn and face the two leaches. The vampire sat back, his clothing unwrinkling from leaning in to whisper in Alice's ear.

Glancing down at her hands, Alice was glad to find something other to stare at than the two kissing girls standing on the dance floor, in front of them. She noticed the untouched glass in her hands, attempting to remember what it was. Lifting the drink to her mouth, Alice gave it a tentative sniff, again trying not to look to out of place. The liquid smelled fine, actually to tell the truth it didn't really have an odor at all. Which made her come to the conclusion that this, hopefully was a very watered down drink. Carefully, Alice tipped the glass, allowing a small amount of the liquid to slip down her throat.

The taste was repulsive. Even with the slight amount of alcohol in the glass made her stomach feel weak. Or maybe it was just the combination the bartendress had concocted. I mean, all she had asked for was a light drink, not any specific one or taste. Never the less, Alice restrained spitting out the foul liquid and instead, allowed it to slither slowly down her throat. Blinking back tears, she took a few deep breaths, but only inhaling the tobacco smogged air. She steadied her breathing and tried to act calm, like nothing had happened. Though she really needn't. No one was paying attention to her. Half of this club was drunk and the other was to focused on dancing. I guess it was just a force of habit for her, to feel self conscious. Probably due to the fact that she went to a small private school, where everyone was always watching everyone else. Just searching for something to gossip about.

”Dale,you are a nomad I’m guessing,” Alice heard one of the vampires convey. She still hadn't turned around to face her company and it was eating away at her not to be able to see who was talking or what they looked like. "You guess righ' ma'e." Replied the second vampire, who's name, according to the first was Dale. "Jus' passing through Sea'le though. I'm guessing the two of you are as well?" Dale continued, leaning over to get a better look at the two.

Alice still had her head down, staring at her clear water like drink. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dale's movement as he angled forward, so as to cross his arms and lean on the bar's countertop. Jumping at the opportunity, Alice glanced up, turning her body slightly and finally was face to face with her two vampire acomplants. The first vampire, the one that had so bravely inclined down to murmur in her ear, was tall and dressed in all black. Leather skinny jeans tucked carelessly under his dark comet boots. Following that he wore a long trench coat, that was buttoned on the top to hide a black shirt underneath. Makeup and piercing covered his face, though none of this attire took away from his chocolate brown eyes. That were tinted slightly with crimson, though to the normal human eye the minor color hue was gone unnoticed.

The second vampire, Dale wasn't dressed like the first, but still had a unique apparel. Red drainpipe jeans with white stack-heeled boots covered his lower half. While a white shirt with a print of a Basquait skull on the front and a black jacket with a studded collar over the top of that clothed his top part. On his right hand, on the finger closest to his pinky was another silver ring in the shape of a skull's face, completed with dark ruby eyes. Long coal black hair stuck messily out around a creamy-white trilby with a black stripe perched upon his crown, looking slightly disheveled and unkempt. Dale's large eyes appearing even more large from behind the black curtain of a fringe and a crooked nose, a daring smirk flashing across his features, showing two rows of slightly crooked teeth.

Dale, definitely looked more friendly and inviting than the first, though Alice didn't like judging people on their clothing. She had endured enough analysis in her life and had learned a life lesson from it. Don't judge a book by it's cover. And even though both vampires looked like they could fit into society with ease, you couldn't mistake the unrealistic beauty that any human would kill for. It made Alice glance self consciously down at herself and her own attire. She couldn't tell if she felt under dressed or that this wasn't even close to the right apparel to be worn to a club party. Her stature was completely different from her company. First off, she was a girl, so she had girl features and looked like a girl. Second, Alice was short and pale her skin almost translucent, unlike the vampire’s signature snow white color. Her stature probably stood out the most, small and fragile looking, she was always marked as week. Or maybe it was her eyes, a bright blue next to crimson red ones. Masked by murky chocolate brown contacts, that didn't completly cover the blood color, but did enough that no humans would question. Tugged on her light brown hoodie, her gray sweat pants and mixed matched converses suddenly seemed to stand out like a bright red cocktail dress, in the dim light of the bar.

" Actually, no. I live over in La Push reserve. " Alice was surprised to hear her voice ring out, sounding bell like and soft compared to the two vamps. She normally wouldn't have been brave enough to be the first one to speak out. But never the less she had and was now obliged to sick with the conversation and not remain silent, listening to their conversation. [/ul][/font][/size]
tagged;; bill&&dale :]
notes;; this took me longer than i thought
status;; complete
credits;; * KISS MY SASS of caution
words;; 1,203
outfit;; clickkie!
lyrics;; all american rejects

[Dale McCall]

You know, Dale liked taking risks. He liked bending the rules to conform to his own selfish desires, and he liked going against the grain. That much was as obvious as the long crooked nose on the end of his pointy face. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, sitting here while there was so much obvious tension in the air. Both Bill and the little lady sitting beside him were shooting each other such venomous death-stares Dale was genuinely surprised that one of them hadn't keeled over yet, but he say there amyway. Maybe because it filled him with adrenaline, knowing he could get into some serious trouble if he got caught up in it – could he? He’d managed to wiggle his way out of things in the past though, so he wasn’t too worried. Yeah, so he broke the rules a little bit, he climbed the fence that was marked, do not climb! but that was just Dale. That had always been Dale.

Then again, Dale was rarely ever prepared for anything, and didn’t he just say he enjoyed going against the grain? It was foolish of him sometimes though, to be so rebellious and opposed to anything that was ‘the norm.’ No-one in their right mind - and very few people in their wrong mind - would ever accuse Dale of being intelligent - though perhaps calling him stupid wasn’t entirely fair either, for it was true that he compensated for his lack of book-smarts with an uncanny intuitiveness that few possessed. But he had an appalling lack of handle on spelling, grammar, and the English language in general, and his skill with arithmetic was all but non-existent.

He had left his school in London early with insufficient Math, English, Chemistry and Geography grades, though he had managed to acquire high marks in both Fine Art and Hair Design. His grasp on time and reality in general was tenuous at best, to the extent where he often had to be reminded of his own age. So he didn’t know an awful lot, but the one thing he was absolutely, one-hundred-percent concrete-certain on was that the air was very smoggy and very tense.

The girl, he noticed, was probably not too much smaller than he was. Dale had always been quite small. Even as a child he was a little too small for his boots. As a toddler he only weighed around 22 pounds and stood at around 28 inches tall. He is quite petite, with a slightly wirey build. All shoulderblades and rib's protuding out, he may not look like much in the muscle department, but he knows how to get himself out of trouble (in it, most situations). Every one of his features seems to jolst for possition. His facial features could easily be described as 'visually noisy'; a long, slightly pointed ski-jump nose and chin, with large powder blue eyes only just hidden behind his long black bangs. His teeth are a little crooked as a result of impacting wisdom teeth.

This girl was small, about the same height as him actually, thin, with a light tan from what he could tell. Blue eyes, that he envyed, and a choice of apparel that left Dale quite startled, especially since they were in a clubbing environment. She looked as if she was getting ready for a sunday evening in front of the couch. And yet it seemed to suit her.

"Y'don' have to be scared luv." Dale spoke with an apologetic note in his voice and a cheeky grin as he began to drum his finger's against the table in an upbeat percussive sequence of nonsense. He really couldn’t blame her for being alarmed, though. If he had been in her shoes, looking at him from out of the darkness, she must've thought that he looked a bit like a dandy-troll with a black wig on backwards coming in to attack. "With my feather cu', 'nd poin'y features, if you put me in the ‘50s, I'd prolly be imprisoned for being a witch. They’d lock me in a trunk! I'm really no' that bad though." He grinned cheekily, tongue flicking up to curl impertinently about his incisor as he twirled back and forth on the bar stool.

What about Bill though, what was he like? Dale glanced at the ivory pale, dark eyed familiar beside him, cloaked in shadow. Too much shadow, he wondered? True it was dim in the club, but even Dale and the little lass beside them weren't as dimmed in shadow as he was. It was obvious that he and Dale were polar opposites. Dale was made of thing's like sunshine and sweets. He liked bright thing's, and making a fool of himself. Bill seemed the sort who'd keep to himself, dark and secretive. It sounded shallow, but you can tell allot about a person by their attire, and the way that Bill dressed spelled dangerous.

Of course, as that saying goes, you should never judge a book solely by the look of their cover. "How long 'ave you lived on the reservation miss...?"He asked, pausing in his sentance to hint that he wished to know her name. His large eyes looking direcrtly at her, sparkling with interest. It was quite easy to talk to her, especially since he seemed to have little to no urge to feed from her blood. It was because of the smell, he decided.

[Bill Schwarz]

Billa snorted. The vampire was talking to the shifter. The night couldn’t get anymore amusing than this. “Yea, nomad, I live around here,” he answered softly. It was almost like magic, but the shadows that twisted themselves around him darkened some more, an instinct he picked up whenever someone talked to him. He watched the shifter for a moment. She was defending herself. That was one good thing. At least she didn’t do much, but he did find it funny when she drank the alcohol. What was she doing here again? She didn't even fit in, and yet, this bold one didn't dare move.

He turned and watched the DJ, the music was loud, pumping and he liked it that way. When it was loud, you can’t hear much, a perfect excuse to ignore someone completely. The dancers scattered, some heading to the shithouse and others getting a drink, but most of them stayed clear of the three. Well, mostly Bill, but since the others were next to him, the humans were avoiding them to. It was funny how they know. They know that people like Bill were different, he could be dangerous, and he was off. It was human senses, and yet they ignore it, they stop by to chat, knowing there could be a chance he would kill them. Why? One word. Curiosity.

And as of the moment, yes, he was humanoid, so he did feel emotions. It wasn’t as if he didn’t care. He just used that advantage as a game. A game to play with his prey. A game based to how strong words can have a effect on people. A game of the mind, a fragile thing the mind is. They could be so easily swayed, but others aren’t and that’s what he finds amusing.

He turned his attention back to the two. Dale seemed to have no problem with the smell. Which was odd, after all, he was a vampire, and vampires hated that smell. Bill rubbed is temples, for him, being within 100 yards of one was incredibly difficult not to flinch. But she was sitting next to him that made things worse. Bill’s temper was starting to rise, and again the shadows darkened without him realizing it. His lips turned to a slightly scowl as he spoke up. “And why aren’t you there now? I bet you’re pack is looking for you.”

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