Atypical (Open)

[Sorcha Venn]

She watched, as she usually did, as the people around her went about their lives in the night, lit and electrified by lights and sounds until it was more a blur than anything individual. Some of them talked on phones, flashing teeth in smiles at the words of their counterpart on the other end, others flitted by like moonlight on calm water, presence there and gone and lost to her. She felt much like she saw these creatures she no longer felt much kinship to, fleeting and mortal though her body and its internal mechanisms clicked on exactly like they always did over the couple hundred years she had been chained to the realm of the living.

Her soft blue eyes trailed some humans, noting their little behaviors she had been practicing to near perfection. One woman stopped to adjust her bag in a subconscious manner as she walked past, and Sorcha took a second to reaffirm the motion, her own small purse with its tan strap slid back upon the rise of her slight shoulder. The vampire smiled slightly, amused at the small gesture so easily triggered by habit for one and yet so different and foreign to her.

Tonight was no important night. The small apartment she called home had become too quiet, almost stifling. Fresh air was doing her well, the blood that beat through her heart and pumped through her veins seemingly invigorated by the recent feeding and the life filtering around her. She breathed it in, this essence of modern energy, the positive feelings of being under the stars and bathed in neon a quiet victory. Just years ago, possibly as early as the seventies, the thought of leaving her home to wander the night was near terrifying. Now, it was much a learned behavior as the simple action of learning to adjust a purse strap when it slipped. It had just taken time, though time was no healer of old wounds and traces did remain in the way her eyes would flicker constantly around her, checking, cataloging, and assuring.

The crowd from the busier streets had thinned out a bit by the time she came to an unsure stop in front of a rather charming diner. She had seen the place from time to time, but only as a sideways glance at black and white tile before she went about her way. for a while, and it reminded her of an old movie somewhat with its red seat stools and booths in lined all around. Though she didn’t eat or really drink, it was enticing, interesting, and she didn’t realize how odd she must have looked to a passerby, peering closely through a diner window as if it held all the answers to the world in its depths.

[Vaughn Logan]

Most times during the night while he was hunting Vaughn would stop by The Byrds Nest diner to grab himself a cup of coffee or even a slice of pie. Tonight it was blueberry pie. His taste buds welcomed the sweet, tart flavoring that gave him a smile. Mary the waitress came over and squirted some whipped cream on the top.

"Here ya go hun," She said as she put the cap back on and walked back to the kitchen.

Vaughn sat at the counter on a bar stool. He was too busy enjoying his meal that he had not heard if anyone had come in. He turned though and spotted a woman sitting in a booth by the window. He picked up his pie and his steamy cup of coffee and sat in the seat opposite of her on the booth.

"You mind if I join you?" Vaughn said as she sat down and flapped his jacket open. He sat his hat on his lap and watched her for a moment. "You looked like you could use some company?"

He didn't want to seem rude. So he took bites of the pie slowly, rather than scarfing his face like he was earlier. He couldn't help if it tastes so damn good. Plus, he hadn't eaten much during the day. And some nights of Hunting made one hungry and worn out. "You should try the pie sometime, it's to die for."

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Words: 247

[Sorcha Venn]

"You mind if I join you?"

The act of the man leaving where he had sat before to join her was a curious phenomenon to the vampire. She shook her head and told him she didn’t mind one bit, in fact welcomed it, meeting his gaze with a slight half smile before he ducked his head to take a bite of the blueberry pie with a restraint that indicated he might be savoring it rather than eating it purely for the calories it held. Sorcha had to stop herself from leaning forwards to get a better look at him, despite her enhanced eyesight and the proximity in which he sat across from her. Humans were fascinating and they rarely knew it, even if they thought themselves passive or emotionless, their faces held many a story their tongues would usually deem too insignificant to relay.

"You looked like you could use some company?"

As aware as she was by another’s expression, she blinked in uncertainty. Did she look lonely, sitting in a booth with only the window to sit beside? Was this not normal to do? She glanced sideways at the coffee he had brought over as well, instantly regretting not ordering something, if to only pick at it for appearances. Her mind had been forgetful as of late, but she almost always remembered to appear human, as mechanical as it was for her sometimes.

"You should try the pie sometime, it's to die for."

“I don’t doubt it. Sitting here hasn’t been working up much of an appetite, I’m afraid.” Outisde the sound of a bike gliding past caught her attention for a moment, the fluorescent glare of the diner’s lights displaying a hazy image of her and the man in unwavering detail. When she turned back, she turned to signal the waitress for her own cup of coffee, something she could drink without too much trouble. “Thank you,” The half smile widened, still very genuine as she leaned forwards only to rest her tawny sleeved elbows upon the dining table’s marbled surface. “I didn’t think I wanted company until now, my name is Sorcha, pleasure to meet you.” Sorcha was always one for manners, that was something time couldn’t take away from her.

[Vaughn Logan]

"Sorcha, huh?" He said as he took another bite of his blueberry pie and slid the sweet, heavenly morsel into his mouth. He swallowed and made sure there would be nothing in his mouth when he spoke. "That's a pretty exotic name. Where's it from?"

Vaughn noticed the bike go past the window and eyed it in awe. It was much like his, although the paint job was definitely different, and the driver appeared female (or a really dainty male). Vaughn was one to admire the sound, horsepower, and look of most automobiles.

He had gotten so carried away in his mindless daze that he had almost forgotten about the woman sitting in front of him. As he turned his gaze to meet hers he offered a friendly smile and dove back into his pie. "You come here often?"

The woman seemed friendly enough and not out of the ordinary. But as seen from recent events he has found himself in the presence of dozens of supernatural women. Because of that, he knew to be careful.

"You can call me Logan," Vaughn said as he extended his hand towards her. Even though he wanted to take another bite of the pie he wasn't about to throw away a proper introduction. Nothing would.

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Words: 215