The club boomed with deep bass music. Coated in red light, its dark ambiance perfectly complemented the dark synth music that was being played. Hayden, as usual, was there to bask in it, much to Maya’s partial discontent.
“You really can’t take a break, can you?” The female asked, sighing as she sat down on a loveseat in front of the one the male had already occupied. African American, bright-red haired, and piercing brown eyes with an ever-so-subtle hint of crimson in them, Maya had an intimidating presence, that many foolish men and women alike sought, thinking it would spice up their entourages. In the end, it only got them badly hurt. Belonging to the Tzimisce, the woman had a tendency to keep people at a safe distance, lest her Compulsion fixated on them.
Hayden didn’t know her exact age, but rumors said she was at least 150 years-old, which meant she was much stronger and more experienced than him. In that regard, the male knew not to cross her, especially in her own nightclub, which the local prince had instated as an Elysium.
“You know I love being here. No other place has such beautiful decorum, or such good music. Besides, your company is an honor to me.”
“At this point it’s more like an ordinary activity you like to partake in. I’ve really reduced myself to being your hangout buddy.” Maya spoke, shaking her head as if she was disappointed in herself. “You’ve been here for at least ten consecutive nights. You need to go out and do something else.”
“Well, don’t worry. You won’t see me here tomorrow night. That new art exhibition I’ve been so passionately telling you about is opening. It would be a bigger sin than being a Kindred for me not to go.”
“Toreadors and their art... I admit, it’s beautiful, but I wouldn’t be able to be obsessed with it.”
“Not unless you want it just because. You Tzimisce get obsessed with owning things. Paintings fall in that category too, but you don’t want them for their beauty, for the art. That’s what I find truly unacceptable.”
Hayden was indeed a Toreador. The divas, artists, and as some like to call them, prostitutes of the vampire world, these Kindred were known for their stunning beauty and charisma. Becoming a Toreador wouldn’t magically bestow them with physical beauty – humans would only be Embraced by a Toreador if they were even simply beautiful, if not also artistic and sensitive souls. Hayden was no exception – beautiful pale skin, cold, grayish-green eyes that pierced the hearts of anyone who looked into them, a slim, defined jaw and medium-length, straight, dark hair that required little to no effort to be kept neat. He was slim and somewhat tall, but had some muscle too. His bow-shaped lips let out only the sweetest of words, carefully spoken. To some, he sounded romantic – others found him irritating and a pretender who only wanted to get into other people’s pants, be it for his own pleasure, or for other ulterior motives.
Maya knew him quite well. He was only 34 years old, and had been a vampire for 14 years. Not much was known to anyone about his past, save for the fact that his sire had disappeared shortly after embracing him, which led to many Kindred considering him an unwanted failure. Despite his felicitous facade, the woman was convinced that deep inside, he faced a lot of turmoil caused by his past. She did like him as a friend, despite their occasional differences, and still hoped he’d open up about his troubles, whether to her, or to someone else. It was evident that he had allowed the general conception of a Toreador to swallow him, burying the real him inside.
“Whatever. Have fun tomorrow.” Maya uttered, defeated.
“That’s all I wanted to hear from you. If you’ll excuse me...” Hayden spoke, a smirk springing onto his face. Standing up from his seat, the male made his way onto the crowded dance floor. Skimming through the crowd, he eventually laid his eyes on a young man, dancing alone to the upbeat music. The two locked eyes for a moment, and without any conscious effort from Hayden, his Presence kicked in, immediately drawing in the clubber, who now waited for the vampire to approach, a look filled with lust on his face, lust that was forced onto him.
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Once Hayden found himself in front of the man, he wrapped his arms around his waist, an insidious smirk on his lips, which twitched at the anticipation of the male’s taste.
“Don’t worry… This will feel good for both of us.” Hayden murmured in the male’s ear, who was already entranced. He looked young, most likely around the same age that the vampire was when he was embraced. It made Hayden lust for him and his blood even more, enamored with his youth, something he himself now only retained in terms of appearance due to vampirism preserving his body, making him look the same even after the passing of many years.
Then, the Kiss came. In reality, it just meant feeding, but the Kindred had named it that way because it actually felt pleasant even to the victims. The only exception to this were the Kindred of the Hecata clan, whose Kisses, due to their Bane, were pure torture to their victims. Sinking his fangs into the young man’s neck, Hayden began drinking, gently holding him by his head as he feasted. Doing this in public would normally mean violating the Masquerade, one of the six Traditions, which urged vampires to keep their existence a secret, but in such a crowded place it was barely noticeable – and those keen enough to spot it would think it was an ordinary neck kiss, due to how blissful the human looked.
Once Hayden deemed himself satisfied, he stopped, wiping the blood off his lips. He wasn’t a sloppy drinker, unlike some he knew. The human looked dazzled.
“Make sure you cover that up. I wouldn’t want anyone worrying about you.” Hayden mumbled nonchalantly, before walking away and out of the crowd. He noticed that Maya was gone, probably off to take care of some more business, so he officially had no one left to hang out with. Hayden hadn’t made many friends in his time as a vampire, especially since many avoided him due to his sire seemingly abandoning him.
Humming, the male returned to the dance floor. This time, it wasn’t to feed, but to actually dance, something he loved doing. He wasn’t necessarily good at it, but it made him feel good – it brought him closer to his humanity, pushing the Beast back in its cage.
He started out slow – the synth music was steadily building up, the beat getting more and more intense, resonating within Hayden like a clock tower oscillating once the time hits midnight. As it got closer and closer to its climax, the song urged him to go faster, his movements becoming stronger. When the beat finally dropped, he came to a brief stop, before unleashing himself, letting the dance swallow him as he waved his arms around, rocking his body back and forth. The crowd went wild, and him along with it, getting lost in the song.
Hayden had to remind himself to leave the club one hour before sunrise, in order to get home in time. He lived in an apartment downtown, one that he managed to buy after plenty of years of struggling: running errands for the Camarilla, selling his artworks here and there (which wasn’t at all easy to do). It wasn’t luxurious, but it definitely beat the cheaper scrappy apartments you’d find in the bad neighborhoods. Even though he spent most of his time outside of his apartment, Hayden still wanted a nice one, and he wasted no time in decorating it according to his tastes. Its windows were covered with multiple layers to ensure protection from sunlight during daytime, when he’d be asleep and vulnerable, for such is the fate of all Kindred.
He felt tired. It might sound absurd for a vampire, but such an existence is not pleasant for most. His loneliness was eating him on the inside, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Some days, he thought about lying down somewhere hidden, and waiting for the sun to come out and turn him to ashes. Like a human pondering the meaning of life at night before bed, Hayden was now thinking of things before sunrise, when he’d fall asleep. Forcing himself, he took a deep, shaky breath.
“It will be alright.” He muttered to himself, blankly staring at the ceiling. If he could, he would have cried. But no tears came, only the pain deep in his chest. It was the last thing he felt before closing his eyes, forced by the rise of the sun.
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This story is entirely fanfiction - meaning it isn't an official World Of Darkness release, and isn't canon to the main universe.