Andres Igles Escobar

His words intrigued her, even if he seemed like an intimidating force. She didn’t want to anger him with her questions, like she had with other masters, but her curiosity got the better of her. She lifted her head, catching his gaze as she felt a warmth creep up her cheeks. “Experienced w-what?” She stammered, his presence making her nervous, “Do you, uh, do performance art or something?”

He smirks at the question. “Something like that,” he tells her, the chance to toy with someone not something he feels like passing up in the moment. She’s cute, innocent looking and it draws on a hunger he’s not quite fulfilled since coming her. Casually leaning against the bars, he gives her a once over, arm propped up against the bars, fingers wrapping against them lightly. “Could get you out of here, find out first hand what I mean?” 

jocelyn blushed even more, her gaze averting from him as she felt his eyes scan over her body. but they were brought back once he spoke again. her eyes widened before she chewed on her bottom lip. “uh… yes sir…” she squeaked out, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. 

The blush that crept over her face told him everything he needed to know. There was the temptation to mess with her, but he found the shyness, the admission, more alluring than anything. “That mean you want to get out of that cage? See what my place looks like?” 

Sulfur and Drakar Noir. No one can say demons weren’t a fragrant bunch. He’d met one or two in his time, didn’t much develop a taste for them. but he wasn’t here to cause shit that didn’t need to be. He rolled a shoulder as he turned to him.

“Dogs fetch, wolves prey upon. But I dunno, throw a few bucks or a nice steak, I may run a few yards.” he joked back with a shrug.

A laugh escaped him at that, amused the man went along with the joke instead of getting testy with him. While he enjoyed a good argument from time to time, that hadn’t been what he’d been after with this. He’d met other wolves in his day, none of them had been very impressive in his eyes, but he harbored no real resentment for them.

“Good steak might get me running a few yards,” he adds along to it. “Andres,” he offers in greeting at last. 

Wandering along the trails in the woods, Karissa took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. Hearing someone approaching behind her, she slowed her pace to allow the other to catch up. Smiling as they drew even with her, she glanced over. “I see I’m not the only one who decided to enjoy the weather today.”

He wasn’t normally one to take in the sights. Didn’t like nature, didn’t go for walks to enjoy the sun -- but coming here, he was trying new things. Trying the whole live life and relax idea. So far, it wasn’t working and there was a growing irritation. He didn’t know why he tried this shit. “Oh yeah, working on my tan,” he quipped, his distaste obvious. 

“You’re right about that, most don’t have the convenience of a fuck toy at a moment’s notice.” Jayson had no intention of partaking in the luxuries afforded the supernaturals here. If it happened, it happened but the witch certainly hadn’t been actively searching for such pleasure. That high from being on stage had died down, causing her to decide to head on back to her room…if only she can find it. “Hey do you know how to get to the worker’s cabins from here, I’m still new and haven’t had the chance to memorize directions.

There was amusement at the comment, though he wondered if there wasn’t disdain in her voice. He wondered what would bring someone here if not for the luxuries this place could offer. Safe haven, maybe. If that was the case, he wondered what she was, that a safe haven was needed. Her question caught his attention before he could wander off. “Fresh meat, huh? Me too.” He grinned cheekily before nodding his head in a direction. “Come this way, I’ll show you.” 

Lola was sitting in the cell, shivering in the plain undergarments she had been giving. Her focus was on staying warm and safe, fading into the background if she could. She heard footsteps and a deep voice causing her to look up in confusion. “Art?” She questioned quietly, glancing at him briefly before focusing on the floor, she didn’t want to bring too much attention to herself. “Uh, sorry… sir, I’m just… I don’t know what you mean.”

It was a small voice, once that caught his attention. Turning to look at her, he approached the cell with a predator’s gait. “Not many do,” he informed her, though there was’t any real irritation at that revelation. He had centuries of learning to perfect what it was he did. Crouching, just outside the bars, he tipped his head to the side, ducking slightly so he could catch her eye. “Not until they’ve experienced it for the first time.”

crosby found himself in the cells, once again. it was more or less just him examining—seeking out those he’d taken in earlier that day, and how they were taking to their arrival. which was, as per usual, poorly. the voice of whom he presumed to be a master, caught his attention. “art?” he questioned. “how come art?”

Andres’ attention turned to the man next to him. He gave him a once over and smirked, pleased that someone had indulged his words. “Place like this? It’d be easy to build habits. Easy to turn fucking slaves into a daily routine, like brushing your teeth. No one likes to do that, it becomes just something you do. This,” he waved his hand at the cells. “That’s not what it will be for me. Nothing, routine, about what I do. Art. It’s more...visceral. Savage, carnal. That’s what I do.” 

Sweetheart? That was new but for the moment she chose not to comment on that. “That’s nice, I guess.” It was apparent that she hadn’t expected such a response but she decided not to explore that topic much. “Good luck fulfilling those then.” Jayson hadn’t been sure how else to respond.

Andres snorted at the reaction, nodding his head and noting she wasn’t a pleasant one. “Don’t need luck. Good thing about this place, I got everything at my fingertips.” He waggled his brow slightly, turning to look down the street to see where he should head next.

Victor did enjoy taking a run in his wolf form, it did have a way of clearing his mind in way not much else could compare to. Having hid a few pairs of jean in the woods, Victor grabbed a pair as he shifted back into his human form, beginning to slip them on. He smelled the other before he saw them as they approached. 

“Hola,did you need something?” he asked, not quite looking up yet.

It wasn’t every day he kept the company of wolves. Something new to get used to in this place, the amount of things that made up the population. He didn’t use the term maliciously either, fully aware he was also something that constituted a “thing.” But having just caught the tail end of a wolf shift, he could admit it had been a while since he’d been witness to it. 

“Game of fetch?” he joked, no true intention of being an ass, it was simply in his nature, curious to see if the man would laugh at or fight the words. 

“ Fuck yeah, give it to me, this is heaven, what I truly want…” Jayson sang, looking over to the patrons of the bar. Swaying her hips and moving downward into a quick crouch before moving back up and finishing the rest of the song.  Times like these were really the only instances where she made herself known. The blonde had arrived just a few days prior and had performed a set every night since her arrival but made her presence scarce the rest of the time. When she had finished the song, her last song of the night, she feigned a smile and bid goodnight to the patrons before heading off stage, disappearing out the door. She took a moment, breathing in the crisp night air and trying to calm the high she got from being on stage. Hearing someone approach she turned to eye the person. “Something you need?”

Andres could have spent all his time in Devilwood in his cabin or down in the cells. There was enough to keep him occupied and even on his best days, he would stop and wonder why he tried to be human at all. He was a thing of terror and horror, more days than not. Would there ever come a point where he’d stop trying to hide that fact? Where the game of playing human just didn’t seem fun anymore? Maybe. Not today, though, and the thoughts had drove him out of his cabin, exploring the area. It wasn’t the singing that had brought him inside, more the alcohol. But he was pleasantly surprised by the entertainment and when she finished, he threw money on the bar to pay for his drink before heading outside, intent on taking in the rest of the sights. He wasn’t intent on running into the entertainment in the middle of the sidewalk. “Got all sorts of needs,” he told her bluntly, a typical response of his. “Wasn’t looking to fulfill anything specific, though, sweetheart.” 

Jonas peered up as he noticed another person coming down to the cells where the slaves were kept. Backing up against the wall, he brought his knees up to his chest. He was hoping that the master would just skip past him and forget hew as there. “W-what do you mean art?” he mumbled, more to himself than anything else. Yet at the same time it was louder than needed.

The question caught his attention. Turning to look at the source of the voice, he tipped his head to study the slave sitting on the floor, knees curled up to his chest. It had a smirk crossing his features as he came to stand outside the bars, one hand gripping them and leaning up against the cell. “Means when you’re in my world, I shape it however I see fit. I want you to hurt, you’ll hurt. I want you to beg me for me, you’ll beg. And you’ll mean it. You an art lover?”

jocelyn’s jaw dropped a little bit at his comment, her head still cocked to the side. her cheeks tinted red as she thought about what he had said. “that sounds very interesting sir…” she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. 

“Does it?” he asked, taking interest as his eyes roamed over her form. He leaned further against the bars of her cell. “There a little part of you that’s hoping I might show you how interesting it can get?” 

“That’s a shame. Is that why you came here? Can’t find anyone to do the weird stuff you’re in to, so have to force them?”

“Wouldn’t have to come here if I wanted to force someone to do my kinky shit. I‘m here for the fine dining,” he joked.

“The details were quite gruesome, to be fair, I haven’t heard of a death like that in at least a few decades. People were always more dramatic in their violence all those years ago.” 

“World got less fun when it decided it should try to be more humane,” he agreed, tempted to reach out and read her thoughts, find out exactly how old she was. He withheld, vying to ask the polite way instead. “What are you?” 

“yes - gentle. i’d rather do it without you tearing me apart from the inside.” she whispered more to herself than him. she followed him to the kitchen, much like a kitten && sat on top of the table, resting her palms on her thighs. the blonde followed his movements carefully, a part of her kind of curious as to what was about to happen but of course, another part of her was simply looking around for the knives. “i don’t drink usually.” her father had been an awful, AWFUL person to ava her whole life. ever since her mom had left them, he did nothing else but drink himself into an oblivion && not give two fucks about her or her baby brother. that’s why she didn’t drink, she had smelt enough whiskey for decades to come. she couldn’t possibly know it but ava would’ve actually liked it quick && rough, bent over somewhere && fucked hard. of course, no one had ever had his way with her like that so she didn’t even know she had that as a kink. but pain had always been fascinating to the young blonde, so it was definitely a turn on. if only she knew. on another note, she zoned back in as he spoke again. being here a while meant that she had to prepare herself both mentally && physically. “okay, i guess some wine wouldn’t hurt. i prefer red.” ava waved her legs in the air, pulling down onto her dress, as she tried to prevent it from hiking up. “what did you mean earlier by saying that others will have fun around here but for you it will be art?” she asked all of the sudden, reminded of his words on a subconscious level.

Andres waved a hand over his shoulder as she agreed to the gentle. Though he didn’t point out that his version of gentle probably didn’t match hers. Probably didn’t mean exactly what she thought it was going to mean. There was still the possibility with the gentle option, she’d get torn up and it had him smirking while his back was to her. Admitting she wasn’t a drinker, it didn’t truly phase him and he poured her a glass anyway, forgoing one for himself. At this point in his long life, it didn’t do much for him. It would be for the taste or the illusion, neither of which he cared for right now. Her new position had her perched on top of his kitchen table, legs hanging over the edge. She wore a dress, though he wasn’t sure where she’d gotten it. Maybe it simply hadn’t been taken away from her yet, that was his guess at least. There were small bloodstains still adorning it in patterns. The sight of which awoke no emotions in him save for bad ones. Ones that had him thinking how pleasing it would be to draw more from her. When she agreed to the wine, he held the glass out for her. “Rose,” he told her. It was the next question that had him smirking. She was full of them tonight and he wondered if she knew how dangerous her questions were. Why was it bad that she bit her lip? Why did he call it art? He moved closer, coming to stand directly in front of her, resting one hand on the table as he leaned down to be at eye level with the petite blonde. “Tell me what you think it means. I’ll tell you if you’re close.”

As he was sitting back down, his features slowly softened. He was out of that instinctual headspace and back into his…whatever one he was in normally. He looked back up at the master, a different look in his eyes.

Andres watched him for a moment longer, nodding his head as they came to an understanding. “See ya around, puppy. You can count on that.” And while he had every intention of coming back to visit sometime, he banged his fist against the bars as he turned to leave. 

“What I know is only gossip, and I have no proof of that gossip to be what happened. However; that gossip does say there were deaths in the cells, which would explain the scaredy cat slaves.”

“Your gossip say who it was or...what circumstances? Death don’t do it for me anymore. Seen a lot of it, caused a lot of it...”