..breathe, just breathe..

[Amistad Deserenia]

"Breathe in, breathe out" it was like a chant, she kept repeating it, taking deep, purifying breaths. She'd been there again, only in her dreams, but it was enough to cause her a lot of distress. She should be used to it, the same nightmares kept her awake night after night, but she wasn't.

She'd gone to the lake, wrapped in a thick cloak of purple velvet, hoping to keep herself entertained. But the music playing from her iPod had lulled her into a slumber, along with the nearly star-less sky. The dark, the soft drone of Creed, it had comforted her, and then left her falling into a pit of memories.

"Breathe." she repeated, crossing her legs indian-style and straightening her back. She'd been practicing different meditation techniques, hoping that in time it'd help her block the nightmares, finally get some sleep, and be rid of the shadows lining her eyes with fatigue.

Letting her eyes flicker closed, she took measured breaths, concentrating on the sound and fell of her own breathing pattern. When ever a thought tried to enter her mind, she pushed it back, determined to allow nothing to bother her at the moment. The music helped keep thoughts from forming, and it was easier to block out.

After a while she didn't have to try to keep her thoughts at bay, they just stopped coming, and she could feel her tension slowly flowing out of her. Breath by breath, all the tension slipped from her body, relaxing her shoulders, and softening the frown that furrowed her brows. Keeping her eyes closed, she repeated "Just breath."


ooc: ><

...edit: I forgot to mention that this is Invite Only.

[Jean Claude]

Like laughter. The crickets and the sighing winds... were like laughter to his ears. The tittering of parlor laughter. The laughter of wh0rehouses...

The air was thick with the breath of mortals, drunk on lewd ecstasy, smoke, and drink. Their laughter was stimulated with bursts of glee and the sound of a harp and piano were barely appreciated over the cacophonus ruckus. The inner furnaces of human flesh fueled the nearly oppressive heat as bodies lay, sat, stood, or writhed about the congested room, attended by companions of an unearthly beauty and allure. All were pale men and women, captivating, and finely dressed with the scant garments they wore, concealing, but revealing enough to tease both the mind and senses. They, were his children. And he loved them dearly. Unbeknownst to their patrons, his children simultaneously flicked their smoldering eyes towards him in respect, acknowledgment, and questioning fear. They all smelt the spill of their kindred blood and winced at his devastating fury, carefully hidden behind his alabaster mask, as he walked past them through the room and deeper into his brothel.

Down a hall with closed doors he walked, all occupied with the more powerful patrons that appreciated the discreetion they offered. This hall was quite important to the monster that strode purposefully towards the back. Here, he entertained the likes of kings, queens, magistrates, and even bishops. This was where he attained much power and influence over both the mortal and immortal world.

"Tous sont des esclaves de convoitise"
All are slaves to lust.

Behind these doors his more powerful fledglings lifted their eyes and watched sightlessly as he passed.

Jean Claude passed through the tapestry held back for him and with glowing eyes, stood before the carnage that had assailed his senses upon returning to the city but mere minutes before. The room's furnishings were in perfect order, as if nothing but grains of dust had moved. The blood, however, coated the room like a lustrous macabre finish. All of it... were from three of his bloodline. Jean Marc... Driselle... and Monique... the newest.

He didn't need to be shown what lay beyond the open doorway to the back alley. There would be three piles of clothes with three identical holes through the heart and three piles of ashen remains on the door step.[/color]

Jean looked at the dust in his hands mutely before slowly turning over his hand and letting it all slide away in a fall of finely ground dust. The rock had done nothing to the vampire, had done nothing to warrant it's abrupt destruction. But then... neither had they.

A certain familiar scent stole its way to his darkened conscious. Her breath tinted the air with warm sweetness, calm, serene, and utterly unlike his current state of mind. The barest sounding whine of guitars and the low, growl of a voice in song played in the night, gladly heard above the laughter of his memory.

"Amistad Deserenia..." He uttered softly as he picked her form out from the darkness. The moon was weak tonight and the stars were blanketed by nomadic clouds. Her even breaths and the relaxation that liquified her tension suggested she was meditating. To others, she might appear asleep, but to those who could hear it, her heart spoke of consciousness.

She sat erect farther from the shore line where he stood, half-way to the coniferous tree line. Jean felt his brow lose its heaviness and a odd feeling of lightness cross him as he looked at her, remembering the warmth of her in his cold arms, and her hot, hot blood that spilled between his lips. She certainly looked recovered...

Jean took a few silent steps in her direction, feeling the small desire to see her extraordinary eyes...

[Amistad Deserenia]

Something changed in the air, in her surroundings. She felt him there, rather than heard him. Shaking her head almost imperceptibly, she pushed the feeling away, crediting it to her over taxed mind and her wayward imagination. She was just starting to relax, she couldn't allow her mind to get off track now.

"Amistad Deserenia..." she heard her name, the voice passing through her mind, once again pulling her from her 'quiet place'. The voice was familiar, but no, it had just been a dream. She was just imagining things. But she couldn't help opening her eyes, just to be sure.

Gasping in surprise, she lifted a hand to the base of her throat, curling it in a loose fist. It was the same man from her dream. Was that night real, then? she thought, staring at him with her wide mis-matched eyes. Taking another breath, she tried to keep the tension- and fear- from creeping back into her.

"Mr. C-Claude?" she said shakily, not trusting her own eyes "What a surprise, I didn't expect anyone else to be out this late.."

[Jean Claude]

Jean's hard face was shadowed imperceptively by the night, but he knew that his pallid skin was hit with enough star light to emit a slight radiance. With his long hair lose about his shoulders and the wind intwining its fingers throughout his strands, however, his paleness was nearly obscured; lost within his darkness.

In a tailored, velvet jacket that came to his knees, black dress pants, and a half-unbuttoned black linen shirt, he knew he looked devastating, but he was indifferent. Fashion had been bred into him, if not by centuries of practice in European as well; he didn't even have to try. The vampire hadn't honestly planned on encountering anyone or anything tonight, but he wasn't displeased to come across the human girl.

He stopped some ways away from her, far away enough that it would be hard for her human eyes to distinguish any detail of his face and for him to keep his control. He stood and faced her for a few moments, looking at her eyes and taking in the fine pin pricks barely seen on her neck, before turning around and facing the lake.

"Mr. C-Claude?... What a surprise, I didn't expect anyone else to be out this late.."

His lips curled upwards slightly. By the tone of her voice, she hadn't expected to see him either. Perhaps she thought him nothing but a dream...? Jean lazily hooded his eyes in self-pride, just perhaps... he had intended it to be? He didn't answer her, however, merely standing toward the lake with his hands in his coat pockets, musing whether she saw him as a dream or a part of her cauchemars... nightmares....