#willowtalking

Willow's over it. She's barely seen Sasha outside of the club in weeks now that the Sheriff has been keeping him busy. The beast is clawing at her insides, aching for a chance to bear its teeth. Tonight, she's going to take care of it. Needs to take care of it. Either Sasha's going to take some time for a dinner date, or she's hunting by herself.

Sasha's out again. Left her a text saying he'd be gone until later on a business thing, which she knows to mean the Sheriff's hounding him about something or another. So Willow finds a cute little dress in her closet, slides into her most comfortable heels. Makes sure her best assets are on display before she heads out the door.

The club isn't far and Willow makes all heads turn upon entry. She scans the room, eyes hungry, a predator assessing potential prey. Where her criteria are generally a lot more open, today she needs her fix. She notices the illicit substances being exchanged in the darker corners of the club. The people who are mostly there to look cool on Instagram and TikTok. The ones who don't want to be seen. Her staff, trying their best to look busy even though Willow can't be bothered to police them.

She spots the ideal prey in a corner. A guy, probably a new student in the city. Definitely not her usual type. Definitely exactly what would piss Sasha off if he knew. He's scrawny, the odd one out in both dress and energy. If she approached— No. When she approaches him, that pleases her beast a lot more. Willow turns on the charm even more. Blush of Life brings a pink tint to her cheeks. She snatches a glass of beer off a serving tray with a grin and a wink and heads right for him. She basks in the attention of people's eyes on her. She takes note of the way the guy looks around somewhat nervously after they lock eyes for the first time. His shave job's messy. He swallows thickly when she gets too close for his comfort, but he too cannot keep her out of his gaze.

"Hey~, want a drink?" She addresses him in English, deciding tonight she'll be the interesting American tourist who inexplicably knows her way around the Amsterdam nightlife. It's not like he'll remember her story when she's done with him, anyway.

He accepts the drink with a small tremble, she watches him gulp and spill just a bit of beer onto his shirt. His friends — or at least the guys he came here with — are joking around, just out of his earshot. She hears them clearly enough, though, and she's determined to let them know what she does.

He's all too eager to take it.

"It's kinda loud down here, huh?" She speaks in a softer tone than she did initially, exaggerating her point.

"What are you saying?"

"It's kinda loud!"

He nods, somewhat timid while she hears his company hollering in the background. Willow rolls her eyes internally, her smile sly as she leans in closer to his ear.

"Wanna go upstairs? It's less loud there." She rests her lips against his ear for just a second, notices his heart rate spike with her action, before she reaches out her freed hand.

He sets off to one of the booths eagerly, but Willow tugs at his arm instead. He's incredibly boring, his voice grates into her eardrums. Her initial plan's adjusted. She wants to get this over with, sooner rather than later. Casually, she leads him off to a 'staff only'-door. She turns to him, smiles her brightest smile and locks eyes with him.

She drags him away, dances him across the dance floor while his mates call out to him. She makes sure to stay ahead of him, nodding towards the bouncers watching the stairwell heading up to the VIP-lounge. He follows her like a puppy, unsure of where he can and cannot go.

The noise levels on the second floor are a lot more pleasant. The guy introduces himself as Rogier, attempts to flirt with her. And honestly? Willow is over it already.

"Whatever happens behind this door, stays behind this door, understood? We just had some fun on this floor, your friends don't need to know the details."

She watches his gaze go out of focus briefly before he nods, the tell-tale sign that her command took hold. Then she pulls her keys out of her pocket and drags him into the office space.

If it were up to her beast, she'd have slammed him right against the door the second they're in the hallway, but she's still in control enough to scheme. And Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. The guy's nervously babbling away as Willow pulls him through the hallway, until she finds the office she's looking for. Sasha's name is on the door, and she smiles to herself. This'll teach him.

"Uhuh— how about less talking~?" God, she wants him to shut up. She tugs him into the office, then pretty much jumps him. He's caught off guard, stumbles into the wall before he gathers himself enough to grab onto her thighs.

Willow goes right in, kisses him on the mouth and slides a hand under his shirt. Her beast wants, craves more, tells her to just plant her fangs into his neck right away. And this guy—did he ever tell her his name? Eh, who cares— clearly wants more, too. She can feel his cock hardening in his pants when she shifts against him, pressing herself closer as she tugs at his bottom lip. His eyes are closed. Figures. His stubble's uncomfortable against her skin and it doesn't take long for her to figure out he's not a good kisser, either. There's a lot of tongue action, too deep in her mouth, and she nips at it slightly in an attempt to teach him how to go about it.

With that, a hint of iron settles in their kiss. Willow's beast growls in the back of her head, a sound she mimics involuntarily, but which he clearly interprets as a moan. It echoes in his throat, his cock pressing against her panties through multiple layers of cloth.

She wriggles back onto the ground, tilts her head into the direction of Sasha's office chair, and the guy eagerly rushes over, unbuckling his pants on the way. Willow watches with some disdain, then shakes her displeasure off her face and follows him to it. He leans back, beckons her over as if she's not the one in charge. There's little Willow hates more, but the beast needs to be fed.

She climbs on top of him again, reaches back to pull a drawer in the desk open and pulls a condom out. Her other hand presses against his bulge, his member twitching under her touch. He moans loudly, rocking his hips into her touch. The wetness of his pre-cum an unpleasant texture on her hand.

Willow leans in then, kisses along his jaw to his neck, then finds the perfect spot to dig her fangs in. The blood rushes into her mouth, the first real pleasure she gets from him. He's into it, too. She can tell by the way he's pushing into her hand. She rolls her eyes, slides her hand into his underwear to grab a hold of his balls instead.

When she reluctantly pulls away from his neck to slide his shirt over his head and kiss further down, she can see the desperation in his eyes. She pulls down his underwear then, rips the condom open with her teeth. It's not the right size for him, but it'll have to do. He does not need to know that there's no risk in this activity other than him losing his sanity pining after a vampire, or his life.

His hands are all over her in return. He's struggling with the zipper of her dress. He's squeezing at her breasts as if they're stress toys. He's messing up her hair. Willow plays along, gasps when his hands are on her neck as if she needs air to live, figures that's the least she can do for him.

When his eager fingers tug at her panties, she lets him do so. She's not as wet as she should to sell the act, but it is evident this guy is too into it to notice. He pulls them to the side, slams his dick into her without much further notice. She's convinced the only action he's had until now has come from porn. But she can sell the act. She moans, rocks her hips into his to ride his cock as he writhes and moans and whimpers under her. His head is thrown back, his eyes are closed and she can just about count the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Willow's glad when he reaches his climax within two minutes. He thrusts halfheartedly into her to ride out the orgasm, then just about collapses into the desk chair. He opens his eyes partially, glancing in her direction with a lazy smile on his face before he speaks:

"Did you cum?"

How would you describe your character’s mindset? Their personality, their attitude, their mentality and self-philosophy…

Willow is incredibly smart in her actions, and has a talent for making herself come across as ditzy. She's ambitious, doesn't shy away from stabbing people in the back when it might help her reach her goals. She manages to be self involved but make it look selfless, and wraps people around her finger easily to make them do what she wants them to. She will prevail, she will get what she wants, and you'll be happy giving it to her. <3

What is the best thing about your character? Be it their talent, skill, or a trait.

She's a go-getter! She throws her heart into whatever she does and will give it her all, all of the time. People might call her a manipulative bitch for it, but she'll take it! It's her favourite thing about herself, anyway. You don't get from being a sex worker to owning a night club without a decent amount of go-gettery!

What is their worst quality? Do they realize it?

She brings a specific flavour of hubris into her professional interactions people don't always like very much. She'll forget she's not a cutthroat high ranking person in the court and will behave as if she's already in charge. She doesn't always realise this, but her partner will remind her if need be... if he's there. Which he often is not when it would be needed. If her hubris is not enough, it's the coke-habit she can't seem to kick, but that's only for fun and not a problem...

Everyone is created by something whether they like it or not… What was the moment in their lives that pushed them into who they are? Was it bloody? Was it peaceful?

Willow's embrace was beautiful. The weeks leading up to it had her pining after her boss, a man she considered wayyy out of her league, and he gave her a choice in the matter. He saw her potential, figured she'd be a great progeny for his brothel and a perfect way to keep their line of roses active in Amsterdam. She spent her last few days among the living getting spa treatments, haircuts, the works. He was prepping her canvas to be in the ideal shape to be brought into his world. Her final day had her watching the sunset before she knowingly walked into her death.

People have goals and desires, what are theirs and will they achieve it?

Willow's goal? The woman feels entitled to the position of Prince of her city. Her grandsire was Prince, the man currently in charge killed her sire... so naturally she's the next one in line to be running the Camarilla court of Amsterdam, right? The downside is that the current Prince has a lot more power. The city is run by a Ventrue that has been around 400+ years, was involved with the Dutch East Indies Company, ran Amsterdam until he ended up backing on the wrong horse during World War Two and put Willow's grandsire in charge. He's back now and he probably still wants Willow dead, so... if she ever fulfills this goal, it's gonna be a while. It helps she's decently happy in her current position, too. Somewhat away from the court.

When it comes to people, was there anyone they idolized or someone that was/is important to them? Why are they important?

She used to idolise her grandsire Adelheid an insane amount and for the longest time she's done everything in her power to get her back into office. The woman made her feel like she mattered, had a say, could do great things... She's gotten to a point where she realised that Adelheid was using her just as much as most other older kindred in town in a backwards moment where Willow nearly had to take the fall for Adelheid, though, so now she's thrown that devotion towards Sasha, the Ventrue hound, her business partner and the one who probably owns her heart in the literal sense. Adelheid fell from grace for Willow, but the girl needs someone to throw her passion at... And Sasha gets her, sloppy style.

Fear is only human nature, are they scared of anything? Is this fear rooted in any experience or memory in particular?

If you were to ask her this, she'd claim to not have a single fear anymore. But Willow's terrified that her actions have negative repercussions for her friends, her mawla or her boyfriend. She will murder for them if need be, but she knows firsthand what might happen to them with the current ruling class. And she's not okay with that being on the table. At least her parents live half a planet away, so her family's safe.

Break down how they look. Why do they wear what they wear? Any scars, tattoos, or piercings on them?

Willow is conventionally pretty. She dresses well, loves an occasion to don a costume and has gone out in the past dressed as a slutty elf on Christmas. Her mawla's childe is a fashion designer, Willow uses those resources with pleasure. She's no stranger to showing off skin, either because she wants to or because she wants something. She doesn't have any tattoos, her only notable scars are a scratch on her knee from when she nearly ended in torpor and the mark of when she had an appendectomy, but she likes jewelry a lot. She has a septum piercing, will sometimes just start her nights piercing her ears in different ways to figure out what looks best for the night, and she's got her fangs bejeweled as a fashion statement.

Everyone is perceived in one way or another. How is your character perceived by others?

Willow radiates confidence, even when she's scared out of her mind. She knows she's gorgeous, weaponises her appearance to humans and other kindred combined. She knows how to manipulate those she needs something from, and is not afraid to do so. If you see her, you're seeing the version of her she thinks you want... and she's usually correct. The court of Amsterdam perceives her with... a healthy amount of skepticism though. She's kinda ruined her reputation with them a little, and I don't think she'd get away with trying to manipulate the Prince or his nearest and dearest allies... But hey, that's what she has her boyfriend for, right?

What is the most painful thing they’ve experienced? Physical, or emotional. Everyone has wounds.

Addison Fletcher | Vampire: The Requiem 2e | Clan Nosferatu | NYC Neonate, former blood doll to a Daeva, and a Broadway rising star until a Nosferatu embraced her and stole her voice. Current reeve to Sunset Park with her coterie. She's trying to do the right thing, it's not always going great. She's bad at talking, very very gay, passively suicidal and in all a joy to be around. obviously. <3 #temp addison tag

Eva Schulte | Vampire: The Masquerade 5e | Duskborn | Amersfoort Embraced by her high school sweetheart in a vain attempt to save her life as she was dying of stage 4 leukemia. Thinborn, with baby teeth, lifelike and a vitae dependency. If she goes without vitae for too long, she will get closer and closer to dying. It's not ideal. They're trying to figure it out. #eva-ngelical

Jip Prins | Vampire: The Masquerade 5e | Clan Malkavian | Amsterdam Adopted from South Korea, raised in Amsterdam in the 70's and 80's. They're an artist, specialize in restoring Dutch Golden Age paintings and were a blood doll by choice. The world melts around them when their bane hits. They don't know who embraced them and have been adopted by the Anarch movement shortly after their embrace. #jippie!!

"Willow, I need—" "You know what? I wish you would just stop!"

The initial release is almost cathartic, the floodgates have been let down, all the pent-up frustration in Willow's system since this entire ordeal started. At the beginning, sure, there'd be nothing she wouldn't do for Adelheid, former Prince, sire to her sire, but damn it the woman has been wearing her thin.

"It's always 'Willow I need you to do this', 'Willow could you do that', but never have you once even bothered to thank me. Or to apologise for putting me in this position. Have you ever even considered what strain this puts on me?" Willow's manicure leaves marks in the palms of her hands.

She glances up when she's certain she's not about to break into tears the moment she lays eyes on the exiled woman, face carefully neutral even if she's sure Adelheid can feel the rage in Willow's system seep through every word she speaks. Willow can tell her words have found purchase, the façade Adelheid has been putting up for months now breaking. It's hard to notice, but Willow knows how she works. She knows Adelheid's tells, at least has a form of familiarity that lets her see behind the Toreador's mask.

"You're right."

Two words, they should be exactly what Willow wants to hear, but they do nothing but soothe her anger. She's shifted her grip onto the picnic bench she's sitting on, the wood cracking a little when she tightens her hold. She'd attack her right here and now, if it weren't for the hoots of owls she can hear. Adelheid's backup is here. Of course they are, it's not like Willow has done everything in her fucking power to help this woman every step of the way, risking her own existence for a mere chance of bringing Adelheid back into power.

Except that is exactly what she's been doing.

"Willow, I'm sorry. I know what you're risking by being here and by working for— with me."

A slip of the tongue, Willow squints her eyes ever so slightly before she brings her face back into its neutral position. Adelheid has definitely noticed her shift in demeanor, so Willow gets up instead, arms crossed over her chest. "Fuck that apology, reach out to me when you want to apologise proper, and not just because I told you you should." Willow feels her eyes hurting, needs to get her words out so she can leave before Adelheid sees more of how this shituation is affecting her. "You should remember that you're nothing without my help, and I deserve to be treated with that in mind."

The moment she's able to open her eyes, Willow finds herself frantically scanning the room. She expects the scratched up walls, the blood stains, the smell of her best friend, still unable to grasp what is even happening to the two of them.

But it's bright. Brighter than she remembers. And the walls are cleaner too. Where's Manon hiding? Willow shifts, tries to move around, only to finally realise her hands are cuffed to the backrest of her chair. She tugs a few times, to no avail. Calls out for no one in particular.

This is definitely not good.

The door of the room opens. She expects the seneschal, a member of the primogen. At least someone who in theory has something to do with the higher ranks of the court, anyone except the sheriff, really. But it's Sasha. Of course it's the guy who delivered her to the Camarilla on what can only be described as a silver platter.

He starts asking questions, expects answers Willow is not willing to give. She has had a few nights to practice non-compliance. If being locked in a room for days — nights — with her best friend wasn't going to get her talking, an interrogation or whatever was not going to break her either. She barely even looks at him, dissociates to a different planet.

A crash pulls her back into the present, back into the room. She startles, tries to jump up, only to get pulled back into her seat by the restraints. Her eyes widen when she looks at the remains of what once a wooden chair scattered on the floor near one of the walls.

"If you're not going to talk, I'll have to start using different measures. You know that, right?" He mumbles a little on the final part. Gets up from his own seat to find the best piece of wood to add to his threat. Upon finding it, he shows it to her, wielding it like a weapon.