everyone wants to eat but few are willing to hunt

The idea of so many being so willing to offer themselves up to vampires did make Beck uncomfortable, a fact she does her best to hide with her gaze focused out on the vineyards. "Well. I'm glad that we can agree on something." She mumbles, sarcasm evident in her words. "I'm sure you'll do your best to look out for any participants that get themselves caught into any circumstances they did not consent to."

The idea of so many being so willing to offer themselves up to vampires did make Beck uncomfortable, a fact she does her best to hide with her gaze focused out on the vineyards. "Well. I'm glad that we can agree on something." She mumbles, sarcasm evident in her words. "I'm sure you'll do your best to look out for any participants that get themselves caught into any circumstances they did not consent to."

Even Calvin had to admit he was having fun, and it showed in the dappled red puncture marks across his skin. He wasn’t exactly high demand: a young witch who probably still smelled faintly of the animals he curled up with each night in his stoat form. But that didn’t bother him much.

Still… he couldn’t help but hope to spot one particular vampire. Not for romance, not even for blood letting. Just for the strange comfort of familiarity. In the year he’d been around this strange, glittering underworld, Leon was the only person he felt remotely connected to. And if Calvin had to guess, Leon didn’t seem to have many friends either. So that made them friends in a sense.

By sheer chance, he spotted him. Leon, descending into the wine cellar with that same elegant aloofness he always carried. A smirk tugged at Calvin’s lips. He tilted his head. He didn’t know Leon well enough to be sure, but the vampire didn’t exactly seem like the tour type.

Intrigued, he slipped through the crowd, gliding in the spaces between bodies, dancing in shadows. He swept quietly into the cellar, strolling among the massive casks with casual disinterest, pretending not to notice the vampire.

So when Leon approached, Calvin feigned surprise. “Leon! Hello!” he said brightly, stepping forward to offer a warm, friendly embrace before pulling back. “Just call me Cal, y’know. If you’re bold enough to compliment my skills, you can be bold enough to use my name.”

“So, you remember me! And you remember us!”

The feeling seemed mutual, even if they still stood at arm’s length.

Speaking of… His shadow hands dissolved into the air, save for the one still hovering near the vampire’s pants. A tendril slipped into Leon’s pocket and pulled out his wallet—not to keep, just a little show of flair. Rather than snaking back to Calvin, the wallet was offered to Leon directly, a playful gesture.

Calvin stepped fully from the shadows, running thick fingers through his hair. He didn’t dare move closer. They’d been close in the dream, sure, but dreams didn’t always translate cleanly to real life. And the more he looked at Leon, the more the contrast struck him: Leon, smooth-skinned and dangerous. Calvin, rough around the edges… and, if he was honest, a bit of a coward.

He laughed, trying to shake the nerves. “Y’know, sometimes people want to meet up without an ulterior motive. But I’ll admit that if I went missing, I don’t think anyone would notice. So you’d be wasting your time and effort on little ol’ me.”

Stood at the edge of the vineyard, Beck's eyes narrow into the darkness ahead. Through gaps in the foliage she can sense it - a vampire weaving through the vines, pursuing its chosen prey. The chase was almost graceful, shadows of hunter and victim dancing between the rows of leaves.

Beck forces herself to stay still, heart racing as she merely watches, hands clenched into shaking fists at her sides.

But, then came the scream, sharp and sudden - slicing through the cool of the night. Without thinking, she begins to pace forward, muscles primed to take off sprinting toward that sound, as instinct began to win over thought. She didn't know how she could stop it - but she couldn't stand there and watch whatever was about to happen.

Suddenly, though, a hand lands on her shoulder - the touch causing her to pause for just a moment, enough to stop her run. Locking a wide eyed gaze with whoever has stopped her, her brows furrow as the scream turns into something different - a giddy, breathless laugh. All a game - a seemingly willing game.

When: VC Wine Fest Where: Wine Stalls Who: Open ( @vievecorcitystarters )

He was glad he was wearing the mask over his eyes, he could see very little and that made the awkward feeling of wearing the olive leaf necklace. He had been restless since the Midsummer Night's event, he hoped the wine would help ease the tension that held his spine like a captive. He had asked to make sure there was no funny business and that the wine was in fact just wine.

"Is that how you still see me?" A hint of hurt flashed across her features but Gloria buried it just as quickly. She'd fought tooth and nail to shed her old self—even if she'd only succeeded at burying her. "Scared? No control? Haven't I proven that that is no longer me?"

She didn't wait for his answer as her gaze pivoted back towards where the wolf had disappeared. "She'll be back. I know the type. Until then," Gloria shrugged, "her fear tastes just as good as her blood." These days she preferred them afraid. It was hard to quiver at the sight of something that feared you more.

—

Streetlight shimmered off the puddles that hadn’t yet dried from the day's rainstorm, casting warped reflections across the cracked pavement. The air was thick with heat and moisture, creating a musty heaviness that clung to Calvin wherever he went.

He had spent most of the day in his animal form—a creature no bigger than a rat, easy to overlook. For once, he hadn’t been in the mood to steal, choosing instead to revel in the hoard he’d stashed back at his shop. A few of the pricier (and more traceable) items had been fed to a large snake he’d enchanted with a bottomless pouch in its belly. It hadn’t hurt the creature. Calvin, with his eclectic traits and odd morality, never let such deeds go unrewarded.

But now, he walked as a man and into the very heart of vampire territory.

He didn’t come here often. There was rarely a need. But tonight, something different pulled him in. A curiosity, low and gnawing. A dream that refused to fade—some fake western town with too many teeth and not enough sun, a maw that caught him and wouldn’t let go.

He followed the trail, asking the right questions. Some vampires pointed him along with indifference or veiled amusement. Others smiled too wide, eyes glinting with menace. From what he gathered, no one but him had been eager to seek out Leon. That only made the hunt more delicious.

Calvin’s gaze swept the area when he found him. Leon appeared alone; though Calvin knew better than to trust appearances, especially his. Still, it was enough.

He stepped into shadow, melting into it like water. His magic cloaked him in ghillie suit of darkness, and for a time, he became a smear along the blacktop—a whisper of shape. He crept in a wide circle around the vampire, not bothering to be too stealthy. Let Leon feel it. Let him guess what was circling him.

Tendrils of shadow rippled across the walls and concrete, stretching long and skeletal. One coalesced into a flurry of hands—probing, dancing, taunting. A scorpion’s warning.

One of the hands slipped toward Leon’s pocket, aiming for what Calvin guessed was a wallet. The others hovered near the vampire's face, flickering like inky flames. Distractions.

Then Calvin surfaced—just a sliver of a face emerging from the pool of darkness, his grin casual.

“Imagine the fun we could’ve had if I still had my shadows then,” he murmured, voice like velvet. Would the other remember him? Phantom Creek seemed so long ago now, but curiosity had a way of pulling Calvin toward curious things. “Don’t you think, deputy?”