You Will Remember Me [Open, Vampires Only]

It was almost a couple of days ago since her arrival, and time lag had already caught up with her. Currently, Las Vegas was nothing but Liv's residence and Red velvet Kiss. Kitty didn't bother to explore the whole city yet. Aye, it was safer there than Europe, under the condition she was a few clicks away from the only Thorne in town, as Sin city was drowning in an unholy Tsunami of the supernatural and their human counterpart. It was simply the boring calculation of risks. What she was supposed to ask herself was hamlet's question; to be, or not to be? Parkour, or no parkour? There was never a middle ground. So, she ended up again in the Red velvet kiss after a good surfing over the net while breaking her fast on a quick snack of defrosted pack of blood. Microwaves were quite the magic, and the blood was A+ which was her favorite.

The news over the net were rather unsettling. The humans viewed the supernatural in a mixture of fear and awe. The so called freaks were the new dragons of the modern world, and Kitty feared the rise of what could be known as the Dragon slayers. It was ironic for a seven years old hybrid to think like that, then again Hybrids grow up quickly. The half vampire thought about it for a while, she needs a combat knife or at least a gun. A gun would be great at a matter of fact, and a bullet aimed at the head would do wonders of complete blessing silence.

Her shirt looked as if it survived a hard game of Paintball, the colors didn't make sense but they fitted each nicely if you were into bohemian's style. A dark colored skirt never reached her knees, as well the leathery black boots. No heels, no make up, just a natural Kitty to boot. She was sitting the bar away from the overwhelming atmosphere forged from ample amounts of both testosterone and Estrogen. The unnatural danced like there was no tomorrow on quick beats and deep bass, as the strippers did their job faithfully; the result was being showered in the ol' good green bills. Kitty hoped sincerely that the business was going well, it had been a long while since the opening of the strip and so has said Liv.

A firm click over the cold surface of the bar broke her hopeful reverie and sent up some quiet waves into the dark liquid that was served in her cup; nothing fancy, it was just coke. The stranger, who was bound to be one of the supernatural, politely ordered the tender for an amber shot of whiskey. Kitty was no cat, but curious. And don't let philosophical metaphorical banter within the shipper alienate you; simply, she is a believer of principles, trust is earned and not given, and you would be better off any backstabbers.

”A bad day?” Kitty asked the newcomer, though the words were spoken in a British accent as her instincts told her to do so. ”Or perhaps a good one?” she concluded two of many possibilities. But it was a bar, and people tended to either drown their sorrows with liquors or heighten them in the times of happiness. What was her bet? Nah, Kitty never bets.

We met as soulmates, on Paris Island.

We left as inmates, from an asylum.