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Vincenti took his seat in the closest box to the left. He waited for Belle to join him, a dozen white roses by his seat. He became a bit distraught when she didn't show up. The show was going to begin in a few minutes. Someone offered him champagne, but he didn't even take the time to turn around and acknowledge the person. He stated he didn't drink, and scanned the crowds below. A few women looked up at him, giggling madly and whispering amongst themselves. Vincenti turned away from them. He was an exceptionally good looking man with his blond hair, gray eyes, and facial structure. He had received numerous offers in the last two years which he had been with Belle, and he denied every single one. He closed his eyes for a moment. There was no doubt that she was here. Her heart was beating frantically. Just what exactly was going on?

The play began, and when he saw Belle on stage he leaned forward a bit with a half smile. She glanced towards him only once, and that was all she needed. He watched on the edge of his seat, not so much worrying for her as entranced by her. Her voice was one of an angel, and it now rung clearly through the theater. He could hear the audience holding their breath on the ends of her words. She had entranced them, too. Nevermind Romeo, who was a decent and acceptable actor for the piece, but had no particular quality about him. As the play closed he stood up as did the rest of the audience as the cast took their bows. Flowers, mostly red roses were thrown onto the stage as was customary, along with a white one from Vincenti. After having not looked at him the entire time, Belle locked eyes with him for several seconds, and he leaned on the edge of the balcony as the actors retreated offstage. He raced down the stairs, and headed off to find her.

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Belle Anastacia Shardakov[Noir] http://roleplayerguild.com/f9/the-wh...-tragedy-7704/
"You speak from a true heart with voice pierces the soul through cloth and flesh.
No experience can match that passion."

Smith was leaning against one of the doorways into the back stage area. “Ah, the man of her moment.” he said quietly, looking to him with suddenly clear eyes that shone unnaturally in the light, the whisper continued when he spoke again.

“Make sure that you don’t harm her, child of the night.” he said regarding him with those eyes. “As much as your intentions seem pure on the surface, I know what you are. I know what your kind do, and if I find you not abiding by the accords laid down two hundred years ago, I will destroy you for the sake of her soul, understood?” With that he slid away, leaving the doorway clear and open before he went to loudly congratulate the owner of the Apollo who was currently surrounded by flash bulbs and clamouring journalists all with pens waving and wagging.

“Please, please!” he said in a thunderous voice heard many times in church. “Don’t hound the poor man or the girl who has taken our hearts on the stage!” He said as he waved some of them back. “Please, for God’s own sake and peace leave the poor fellow alone!” the journalists abated somewhat before Timothy, nodded his thanks to the Reverend and began to head towards a side-room where the journalists could talk to him properly.

“You mean, you'll try to,” Vincenti said, and his gray eyes looked at the reverend with a half smile. He watched the reverend speaking loudly. The world was better without people like that. He didn't care much for the remark he received. He came up behind the reverend. “But if you do such a dishonor to me,” he said in a faint whisper. “I challenge you do a duel at gunpoint. I wonder...who will win.” He pushed past the reverend to Belle who was covered by a bunch of reporters, and giving the best possible responses she could. Vincenti pushed his way through the crowd, and the moment Belle saw him, she left her interview and started making her way through the crowd. The crowd parted for her, but only slightly.

“Belle,” he said softly as she reached him and he handed her a bouquet of white roses. She yelped and threw her arms around him, not caring anymore. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. Her heartbeat quickened. “Let's get out of here, or I'll start to get jealous of the reporters,” he joked and he separated from her and headed to an opposite exit. She headed towards the main entrance and walked down the stairs. After ten minutes, she finally made it out the door where a carriage was waiting for her. She climbed into the carriage with the assistance of the driver. The other actors didn't understand why she didn't want the attention of so many reporters all on her. She only wanted the attention of one person, which she had.

“You did so well,” Vincenti said, and wrapped an arm around her, and she leant her head on his shoulder. “I know the audience enjoyed every moment of it, but did you?”

“I did,” she said in agreement. “It was exhilarating, really. You lose yourself to that character, and everything becomes a part of your life.”

“It is unfortunate then there are no vampires in Romeo and Juliet.”

“You are already a part of my life Vincenti,” she said quietly. “I told you once, I'll tell you again. I want to spend eternity with you; to be like you.”

“You don't know what you ask for Belle,” he said quietly. “Don't think about things like that now. Enjoy this time you have, and if your decision should still be the same in a few years I will consider it. I don't know, if I could ever take your life away from you.”

“You are my life,” she said back, and kissed him.

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Belle Anastacia Shardakov[Noir] http://roleplayerguild.com/f9/the-wh...-tragedy-7704/
"You speak from a true heart with voice pierces the soul through cloth and flesh.
No experience can match that passion."

Belle walked along the street back towards her home. The party had been fun enough to go to, even though Vincenti couldn't attend that night. It wasn't a crime to go alone, and more accepted than actually bringing something, as you danced with everyone there. Halloween was drawing to a close. The bell around her neck jingled, and the white cat ears on her head were perked upward. A white dress completed the outfit. It was a rather cute outfit. Others were more elaborately dressed such as witches, angels, or goblins. Suddenly, she felt a pair of eyes upon her. Turning around, she saw there was no one there. She clasped her hands together, and started walking in the direction of her home once more. It was a cold night, and it caused her to shiver. She had left early from the party in order to get some rest. She turned around a corner and headed down the lane towards the street before her own. She looked behind her once more; no one was there. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

A hand gripped her waste and pushed her against the wall. She let out a yelp of surprise from the shock of the force. She felt the grip around her neck before she could fully see the cause. She looked into the dark eyes of a man with black hair. She had seen him before but didn't know where. “Let me go,” she said, and struggled, trying to pry his hand from her throat. He towered over her by at least a foot.

“What are you doing all alone, kitten?” he asked with a sickening smile. She spit in his face which made his grip tighter as he pressed her against the wall. She brought up her knee in a swift movement, causing him to double over. She wasted no time turning to run, but the man's recovery was swift. She remembered where she had seen him before; he had bumped into her a year and a half ago. How she recalled at that moment such information was beyond her. She had no time to think; only to run. Unfortunately, he was faster, and she was forced on to the ground. When she fell the wind was knocked out of her. He turned her over, and got a hold once again on her neck. She had already felt as if she was suffocating; as if she would die from not even being able to draw in a breath, and when her breath returned, the grip on her throat didn't allow her to make a noise.

“Bitch,” he growled. “You'll pay for that...” he smiled once again, and Belle's eyes widened. He was too strong for her to fight off.

Vincenti... she thought, and closed her eyes.

---

Vincenti sat opposite from a red haired man in his own home. The two were discussing something quietly. Both seemed to be of equal status from the position that they were sitting. Vincenti was not pleased about something, and his expression dulled.

“I know these aren't the best circumstances, but if this occurs, it is inevitable, Vincenti...”

“I can't leave here,” he said blatantly in return, and sighed. This was all too frustrating. He didn't want to be here right now. He would avoid the conversation entirely if he was able.

“It would be seen as an act of treason, my friend,” the red haired man continued. “If she calls for you...you must go.”

Vincenti froze. Belle, he thought to he thought to himself. Something was terribly wrong. He got up from his chair and grabbed his jacket. “We'll have to finish this conversation later, Leo.” He rushed out the door and onto the streets. Leo slowly stood up, and got his own jacket. He put it on, and walked outside, closing the door behind him, and beginning to leisurely.

---

Vincenti ran down the streets. He could hear her heart racing, even taste her blood on his lips despite the fact he had never bitten her before. He came to a halt at the end of the street when he saw Belle on the ground, huddled against the stone building in tears. He ran towards her, and nearly slid as he brought himself down to her level. She drew away from him until she looked up and saw it was him, then started to cry even harder.

“Belle,” he whispered and wiped her tears away. There were scratches on her cheeks and her makeup was smudged. There was a large bruise on her neck where the blood had welled up just under the surface. Her dress was torn, and she had lost a shoe somewhere. His heart burned as he held her to him. “Who did this to you...” he asked, although it seemed more of a statement. She sobbed as she leaned onto his chest. “Hmm?” he persisted, and lifted her hand...bits of blood wedged underneath her nails that was not her own. He gently kissed her fingertips.

Leo...watch, Belle. Keep her safe...

He got no response, but knew he was heard. He kissed her forehead. “Belle...stay here, don't move. Your ankle is sprained, and you don't want to hurt it more. I'll find who did this, okay?” He said, and turned away from her to go in the opposite direction, but she grabbed his hand. He turned back, bent once more, and kissed the top of it. “I'll be back,” he whispered. “One of my own will watch over you.” He said, and the hardest thing to do was to tear himself away from her.

He ran around the corner, following the scent. His eyes flooded with a deep crimson color, and his fangs became far more prominent than normal. A man with black hair walking casually down towards the boulevard. His movement was quick; and the man had little idea what hit him as he was kicked to the ground with a powerful blow. He stumbled forward and was slammed head first into the cobblestone street.

“Is it a habit of yours,” Vincenti said in an animalistic voice that was not his own. “to attack women that are defenseless?” He pulled him up by the hair so he could get a good look at his face before gripping his throat and lifting him up from the ground. Vincenti exposed his fangs fully, and stared at him with scarlet eyes. The man's eyes widened, and he struggled, but no kick moved the vampire, no punch nor struggle could break his hold. “You probably shouldn't have chosen Belle of all people. She's dating a vampire, you know...” Vincenti threw him against the wall as if he was paper, and delivered several punches until his face became unrecognizable. He lifted him up once more, and drove his fangs into the man's neck, drinking fully until the man's face turned white and he stopped moving. He pulled his face away from the man's neck, and in a swift horizontal movement, ripped through the man's esophagus with a splash of blood. The man's body fell limp on the ground in a blood pulp.

He looked back towards the end of the street to see Belle peering around the corner, her crying quieted only for a moment, but it was still there. She leaned against the building to support herself. Vincenti wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his coatsleeve, and walked to her. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders before picking her up into his arms effortlessly. She sobbed quietly into his shoulder, but what scared her the most was that she wasn't bothered by the fact she had just seen her lover butcher someone. She hadn't been bothered at all.

“Vincenti...” she cried softly.

He held her close as he walked back towards his home. “It's all right...it will all be okay,” he said quietly, his eyes returning to their normal gray color. Damned was the man's soul who hurt her; and to any that tried.

Why do such terrible things happen to such good people? Why did he have to chose her of all the other women in the town? To attain someone of the highest purity to perhaps clense themselves of their own sins; or to bring down an ideal to their own level, to prove God wrong. His experience told him that it was something that could never be taken; it was part of her soul that made her so very beautiful. He knew that; but she didn't.

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Belle Anastacia Shardakov[Noir] http://roleplayerguild.com/f9/the-wh...-tragedy-7704/
"You speak from a true heart with voice pierces the soul through cloth and flesh.
No experience can match that passion."

The Street

Carl stepped out from around the corner and peered down at the broken and dead body of the man on the floor, he knelt down and tried to close the on eye that wasn’t broken and swollen. He sighed and shook his head before clicking his fingers. A coach made it’s way quietly around and stopped nearby. A pair of junior priests came from within the coach and picked the body up, setting it inside before sitting back on top of the coach and cracking the reigns, the coach trotted off and left the street just as the fog began to roll in, the new electric street lighting being turned into little more than glowing fireflies in the mist.

Carl walked slowly along the street and stood nearby to Vincenti and Belle, his hair blowing slightly under his wide brimmed hat and his cloak flapped slightly in the breeze as he looked to Vincenti with his powerful eyes.. “You do realise what you have done, yes?” he said quietly.

“I was going to inform Belle tonight when she reached home about something to tell you, Vincenti.” he laughed, one short bark. “Yes, I am aware of your name, it’s listed on the Accords between the Churches and your kin. Making you safe from our church and Rome at least.” he then sighed.

“However, there are some smaller denominations who broke away. One in particular has had a man in this city seen recently. We cannot talk now but I trust you will both try to keep each other out of harms way for now.” He shrugged. “Needless to say that death, or rather the echo of his death has just gone through the city, a death by a vampire and he’s smelt it.” He looked behind him suddenly. “Meet me, my orchard at the Vicarage tomorrow evening, understood?”


Basement somewhere in the city

The fingers held the cylinder of wax with a little bit of reverence as it was placed carefully into the phonograph. The figure curled his smile, a cruel and twisted one with no real emotion behind it, one that stopped purely at the eyes. Stopped dead cold by the strange, baleful and silvery eyes.

The woman in her chair hissed and struggled against the heavy iron chains holding her there, the glove of garlic hanging around her causing irritation rather than any kind of real pain. With a click, the figure set the needle rolling, it cutting into the wax, the horn taking in the sounds as he turned to look at the Vampire in the chair.

“So, what’s your name dear one?” The figure said as he laughed a little at her struggling.

“I am Georgina of Philadelphia, I am number 933 on the Vampire Accords of 1793, I..” the steak rammed into her side suddenly causing her to cry in pain.

“I asked your name, you vile piece of god-forsaken shit, not your listing on that joke of the accords, you maime drink and kill and yet still run around claiming to be civilized? Load of shit is what you speak. As such my dear, you’re going to be my little test subject. Got that?” He chuckled before turning to the table behind him.

“So, experiment number 12, Philadelphian strain vampire. Using the new pistol made by Enfield, revolver type with the wooden-tipped bullets.” he turned and shot her in the heart, causing her to scream. “Hrm, wooden tipped bullets ineffective, moving to experiment number 13. Oh, what an unlucky number for some.” he laughed.

Lifting an old looking flintlock duelling pistol he turned it over. “1812 duelling pistol, American made. Utilizing the musket ball made of wood in a metal cross-like cradle. Using a smaller amount of black powder than would be used in a musket type weapon.” he cocked the handle back and smiled at the writing figure in the chair. With a grin he pulled the trigger. The musket whipped into the vampire’s body, shattering on impact, the splinters sliding into her heart, with another scream her face froze in pain, shock and horror as she suddenly turned to statue, grey and static before the weight of it began to collapse, until only a small pile of grey ash remained.

“Experiment 13 successful. Will send this information back to the Church in Colorado.” The figure said as he quietly moved the needle from the phonograph. Setting it gently into a small box he placed some papers and a single ball into the box and sealed it, an address on the top already. He’d mail it in the morning but first…

His body shuddered, he stopped, looked up and sniffed the air as he licked his lips.

Vampires going about wantonly killing the innocent? Oh yes…

Oh yes indeed….

Child of the Day, Augustus Green laughed as he turned around and cut his wrist with a small knife, letting the blood flow down it as he saw in his mind’s eye the face of the vampire who preyed on people to their deaths. Feeding was bad enough, but a death? Oh that was something special.

Something unforgivable.

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“I'm safe regardless of what I do,” Vincenti said, unamused. “Our empress would simply cut out your throat, and we would go on living.” He held Belle close to him. He gave no response about going tomorrow. He had no care to focus on anything of the sort. He walked back to his home, opened the door and headed upstairs to his bedroom and laid Belle down on the bed. She broke out into a fit of tears. He cleaned the visible wounds gently with some rubbing alcohol and sat down next to her after taking off his stained shirt. He let her curl up against him, and cry herself to sleep. After she had fallen asleep, he simply stroked her hair, and watched over her.

Was he going to meet the Reverend? He highly doubted it. He believe that tomorrow would be best spent in.

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Belle Anastacia Shardakov[Noir] http://roleplayerguild.com/f9/the-wh...-tragedy-7704/
"You speak from a true heart with voice pierces the soul through cloth and flesh.
No experience can match that passion."