O.D. 1.26.1999 [12:43 p.m.]

(I don't know why the last one was fucked up formatwise...maybe I added too many in one day and diaryland is confused. Heh.

This is another Mercedes and Vittorio. Man, I did love 'em.)

>[Mercedes Diveneto] Mon 19:56 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::As he enters he

noticed the room oddly cloaked in darkness..the light bulbs gone from their

sockets, the curtains drawn. Its is the call of the beast..the stirring of

preternatural senses that alerts his to his sleeping pray::

>

>[Mercedes Diveneto] Mon 19:46 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::Had he Mercy's

senses he might've been aware of her presense. The naked mortal asleep on his

bed. Her body perfumed sweetly wreathed as her blood is..redolent with

poppies.::

>

>[Victor DiSperanza] Mon 19:59 EST to Mercedes Diveneto: Ah, a pity that he had

not Mercedes' senses...but all the same, he knew of the presence in his room the

moment he pushes the door open, and the curling arms of opium and blood extend

to him in loving embrace. Instinctive, is the draw of his lips back from his

lengthening blood teeth, in a horrible bestial expression that reveals much of

the monster beneath what he would consider finesse. He inhales, deeply, through

nose and mouth as though to swallow the very scent from the air... ...and then

the door shuts behind him, and he casts his coat aside and crawls upon the bed,

shoes and all. "What a lovely gift," whispered, half to himself, half to some

listening other, as he slides his arms about warm, naked skin and lifts her

against him. "How thoughtful...is it Christmas already?"

>

>

>[Mercedes Diveneto] Mon 20:02 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::They are in utter

darkness but her laughter is palpable:: "Perhaps it is..." ::Her can hear her

steps around the bed bed soft as a passing wind:: "Do you remember what you said

to me...in the bar?"

>

>

>[Victor DiSperanza] Mon 20:14 EST to Mercedes Diveneto: He turns to face her,

dragging the toy...meal...off the bed. "Do remind me, darling." Though they are

scarcely visible in the darkened roomed, shadows rise from the floor and wreathe

about the irresponsive mortal in something that looks, after a

moment...surprisingly like an evening gown. Laughing--how long has it been since

she heard him laugh, really laugh? Not long enough. It is not a pleasant sound,

dark and inhuman and grating-- "And remind my..." the shadows twist and slide,

forcing her limp hand forward in a puppet's mockery of a handshake, "...date,

too."

>

>[Mercedes Diveneto] Mon 20:02 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::They are in utter

darkness but her laughter is palpable:: "Perhaps it is..." ::Her can hear her

steps around the bed bed soft as a passing wind:: "Do you remember what you said

to me...in the bar?"

>

>[Victor DiSperanza] Mon 20:25 EST to Mercedes Diveneto: "Mmm..." he buries his

face in the tender white flesh of the mortal's neck, inhaling the scent of her

blood through her skin. "I don't know, date. Do I still..." hands lace with

yielding, languid hands, "...crave..." and pull them back from the wrists..."

...her..." ...and back... "...touch?" Two sickening cracks, so close to almost

be one, as the delicate wrist-structure finally gives, and splintered bone

pierces lovely skin. "Oh, I do believe that was a yes, Mercedes--don't you?"

White fangs flash in a monster's grin an instant before those same fangs gore

the already damaged flesh of forearm, an instant before that same monster gorges

himself on the blood he loved the most.

>

>[Mercedes Diveneto] Mon 20:32 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::And softly does she

smile, coming behind him in the darkness. As she had so many times

before..hungrier times. But tonight she hungered for something else--something

she hadn't tasted in nearly a century. She Rests her head against his his, her

form immaterial, her touch unfeelable. And a then the exertion of will-- And

suddenly she is there, resting her head agist his from behind (What the hell?)

Her soft fingers reaching up to caress his face, his cheeks his nose the soft

flesh of his eyes:: "Vittorio...do you feel?"

> >[Victor DiSperanza]

> >Tue 17:54 EST to Mercedes DiVeneto: Gone is the mask he sometimes wears--the

elegance, the couture, the hauteur. Gone is the man, replaced by the dark-eyed

beast with the bloodied fangs, who turns in sudden surprise, barely fuzzed at

the edges by creeping opium. He lifts his upper lip in an animal's grimace that

only vaguely approximates a grin as he turns to graze the length of her fingers,

so rarely, rarely bared, with the points of deadly sharp teeth.

> >

> >Is blood drawn, or is that merely the blood of his snack, his tasty midnight

morsel? Does he snarl at her, or is that a low groan of appreciation? "Nice..."

the word is lisping, hissing, "...trick..."

> >

> >[Mercedes DiVeneto]

> >Tue 18:00 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::The slide of fingers over hand, over

skin, and hair a breath of words softly whispered:: " Indeed...Vittorio

toccarlo" ::It her hands, not so smooth motioned as he remembers, it is her

strength--not so strong as he remembers that pushes the mortal from the bed

sliding before him in darkness sweet cover::

> >

> >[Victor DiSperanza]

> >Tue 18:12 EST to Mercedes DiVeneto: Immediately, as his meal is pushed to

the floor, he sinks his teeth into her forearm. The beast did not enjoy having

his...dinner...interrupted. And yet--the prospect of her touch after nearly a

century--perhaps there was some way, in his mind, to reconcile the two opposing

attractions. "'Toccarlo'," he repeats, mocking, as fangs drag from wrist to sink

into cold neck, "...I will."

> >

> >[Mercedes DiVeneto]

> >Tue 18:20 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::And in that breath she is gone--his

fangs sunk into the air itself as he falls into the absense of her presence--

and softly does the air whirr around him:: ~ ohh Vittorio....soo predictable..~

> >

> >[Victor DiSperanza]

> >Tue 18:26 EST to Mercedes DiVeneto: And equally predictable, but no less

threatening, his response, "Strega." Spitting, he lunges off the bed, drags the

mortal back on, and sinks into bloody, poppy-wreathed sullenness. "This will not

be forgotten."

> >

> >[Mercedes DiVeneto]

> >Tue 18:30 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::and the wind softly blows around him::

"I just wanted to comply with your requests beloved...I am here to serve YOU

after all..."

> >

> >[Victor DiSperanza]

> >Tue 18:37 EST to Mercedes DiVeneto: "Shut up," he murmurs, only sounding

half as vengeful as he would later feel. His pride was injured, and there will

be retribution...someday...but not now. Someday, when the opium wasn't swimming

so strong in his blood...when the daze of the drug wasn't pulling so sweet on

his mind. "Here is a new request," he continues, lazily, "leave."

> >

> >[Mercedes DiVeneto]

> >Tue 18:41 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::And Leave she does, she leaves the

astral plane itself taking refuge in her body setting so securely beneath him::

"And so I have..but I wonder If I can ever go far enough to please...you."

> >

> >[Victor DiSperanza]

> >Tue 18:47 EST to Mercedes DiVeneto: The drug is taking over even as the body

of the girl grows still and cold along his, and a heavy, slumberous arm pushes

her onto the ground as he arches his back in a slow stretch. Each movement is

savored, each sensation treasured, as the world gradually loses its coherency

and splits into a million soft-edged pieces, exquisite. "You..." he whispers,

"...have not yet...left. Mio cuore."

> >

> >[Mercedes DiVeneto]

> >Tue 19:00 EST to Victor DiSperanza: ::And perhaps it is the taste of the

sentimental that causes the lady of silk and daggars to rise from her post

underneath his bed and sit by his side. The touch of a cool caress is felt

through the silken gloves on hands:: "Never...mi amo.."

> >

> >[Victor DiSperanza]

> >Tue 19:14 EST to Mercedes DiVeneto: He laughs. "Siete cos� leale, Mercedes,"

he says--sarcasm? Or not?--as his hand closes over her gloved one. "Grazie." He

presses his lips to her hand--a moment of some strange, bitter tenderness that

leaves nothing but chill, and a stain of blood upon flawless silk. "Il pranzo

era squisito."

> >

> >His teeth graze her skin through the thin fabric, threatening and full of

promise--did he thank her for her devotion, or for nothing more than a common

meal? The teeth linger but for a heartbeat, no more--and then he is pushing her

violently away, evicting her from his bed and his room. Turning his back,

closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the pull of the drug, he mutters as

he sinks beneath the surface, "Now get out."