Thread: The angel you are not -- Mireille & Drunken Saint

mireille said It was an evening like any other for Artemis when she woke up, aside from the fact that her head was pounding headache that was only worsened when she soured her stomach downing some aspirins with a glass of grapefruit juice. While she strongly believed in home remedies when it came to these types of things, she was in a hurry and didnt have the patience to throw together an herbal tea to sooth the throbbing ache behind her clear grey eyes. She had a mission to do, and she had only just fallen asleep after the sun had arced high over her house, so she assumed that she had managed to gather at least four hours of sleep before her nightly rendezvous with the undead. She armed herself to the teeth with a gun specially loaded with bullets filled with her own blood drawn the day before and a knife that could be discreetly tucked into various places along her form, which tonight was within one of her tall black boots that laced up to her knee, and a few other essentials for the task she had in mind tonight. She was petite, with skin lily white and an angelic face that didnt look the type to have a deadly agenda such as her own. She was dressed simply in dark jeans crammed into her boots and a tank top with a jacket zipped over it to conceal the gun in its holster and to hold the spare cartridges that looked bulky tucked in the pockets. She checked the protective wards before leaving, making sure to give an extra prayer or two as she reached the bottom of the stairs and another when she was just outside the apartment building for good measure. Her hair was long and pale blond and stick straight but she had dyed it several years ago an inky black and kept it that way, thinking it lende her a more serious look. She had picked up a few tips last night on a suspected vampire who frequented the bar across town. He was known for being a heavy drinker and had been diminished down into a pathetic state she thought she could handle on her own, because killing a bloodsucker was a lot easier than trying to catch one. With one last anxious glance over her shoulder, Artemis hiked out into the city to catch herself a fanged fiend. Click to expand... Alexander smiled as his eyes snapped open, his body sensing the setting of the sun and the beginning of the night. He rose out of his coffin, his bare porcelain-like skin shining softly in the semi-dark room. He felt the thirst begin to stir in his mind as he pulled on a dark green t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He ran a hand through his hair that hung down to cover his ears, the blond locks falling into place. He looked at himself in the single mirror in his room, the dark violet eyes of his mixed ancestry becoming more vibrant paired with his shirt. He pulled on a black canvas trench coat and walked out the door of his little apartment, his thirst pounding with all 17 heartbeats of his human neighbors. He wanted a snack, but he had a meeting to go to at a bar. The vampire council had asked Xander to serve as an envoy of peace to The Witch, a yonug witch that had been hunting down vampires without a care for the humans that she mistook for one of their kind. He had been told to broker any deal he could with her, to get her to stop hunting down their kin so violently. So he had let circulate a rumor that a notorious drunk at a local bar was a vampire, and that he go so plastered that he would be a pushover in a fight. As he settled down in a darkened corner of the bar, he waited for The Witch to show up.