This is the New Shit

May 11th, 2014 01:59 PM

Fuck you, motherfucker! Fuck you, motherfucker! Fuck you, motherfucker! Fuck you, fuck you!

Epoch were the newest craze in Sacramento, as far as word on the street went - an angry, multi-pierced bunch of kids with way too many guitars, and even more pent-up rage from their upper-class childhood. Apparently, this, plus their talent for screaming profanity over the thrashing of an electric guitar and the furious beat of a drum kit made them 'hardcore', and they'd opted to pack as many of their fans as possible into a warehouse and blast their 'songs' from the biggest stacks of speakers their parents could buy for them.

And angry little bitches like Miss Ostberg happen to be their best kind of fans. She'd had to be careful getting in, but once she was part of the crowd, nobody looked twice at another angry girl in an oversized hoodie and jeans, throwing her body around to the music and savoring the rage. Oh, it was good; she could almost taste it on her tongue, feel it seeping in through her cracked skin.

Yeah. This was her jam, bitches.

**Hildegarde Bingen** · May 12th, 2014 05:01 AM

Here there be Dragons!

She moved through the crowd, a shadow in the dimness and the dust. A hungry predator dressed in the herds clothing. For this was where the young Kine came to unleash their anger - to ride their Beast - and the Dragon had come to observe.

Hildegarde was dressed in a mishmash of styles, culled from a selection of poor quality films from the late twentieth century. The resultant creation of her overly analytical work was gothic-punk fusion of fishnets, leather, khol and spikes. But no one seemed to mind. Maybe it too hard to see in the darkness and strobe lights; maybe it was because the youth of the current generation were too self absorbed to notice or care.

Or maybe because the one guy who did notice copped an earful - a primal scream Hildegarde emitted to cow the insolent youth who dared challenge her. The Lord had discovered that she enjoyed the deep throb in her soul when she did that. Her Will in command of her Beast, which she chose to unleash in a very particular vocalised manifestation.

The Coil of the Beast at work through her. The Count would be pleased.

The power she felt when she screamed was exhilarating. The anger pulsing around her fed her almost as much as if it were Vitae. Dressed as a modern day barbarian in black leather, the Lord walked as Predator, uncaring amid the seething, fist-pumping herd.

May 12th, 2014 01:04 PM

Peter Baldwin did not enjoy loud concerts where ninety percent of the lyrics in the music was some permutation of the word 'fuck', but he certainly was comfortable enough in such places. Sir Baldwin hadn't come from highbrow roots, and he certainly maintained his old connections on the dark side carefully. After all, every Unconquered Kindred needed an orchestra, even the young. Even the lowliest neonate was greater than the mortals who served them. That was the nature of power.

A place like this was just the access point to such things, if one knew how to look.

The rage in the place called to his Beast, which spread its clarion call of violence and rage back out in response to the music. Despite his non-threatening demeanor, there was something about Sir Baldwin that was just threatening, something he could not cover with any amount of Invictus spit-shine and elbow grease. It was the Nosferatu's curse, ever present. Thankfully, in a place like this, menacing individuals were not horrifically out of place.

He tensed as he entered the crowd, feeling something that shook him deep in his core. An urge to retreat, to protect himself. He was not the prime predator in this room. Here, there be monsters. He was not alone.

The Knight, undaunted, clamped down on the Menace. Even here, there was a formula. Even here, there was a code. It was simply... rougher.

Ready eyes scanned about, and Sir Baldwin stepped deeper into the pulsing, raging throng.

May 12th, 2014 02:04 PM

Fuck you, motherfucker! Fuck you, motherfucker!

Kara felt a newfound empathy with the lyrics when she felt her Beast recoil in fear, grinding her teeth together as she plunged deeper into the crowd, riding the angry wave of bodies. That reaction made her feel worse than the first (and only) time she decided to glance at herself in the mirror. Even though she could hide the Beast from others and brood in angry silence, she couldn't get rid of the fear that threatened to rise up in her chest and overwhelm her. And that pissed her off. Slamming an elbow into the face of a mosher who had the misfortune to be standing nearby at the time. Fuck being scared (at least she'd smashed down the Beast's decision to do so without much trouble.) She wanted to be angry. So she got angry.

They were all stupid, undead cunts anyway. Every single time she thought she'd found a fucking place nobody would dare show their face in, they did, and then she had to do the polite thing and wander over to greet them, because otherwise they'd bitch in their little salons and cry about her 'behavior', because, hell, being an undead corpse meant that you had to be polite. God, she'd like to meet whatever fucktard came up with that logic.

Gnashing her teeth together once and glaring at someone who got a glimpse of her face, she headed out of the worst crush of the crowd, locking her sunken eyes with Hildegarde's as she made a beeline for her. And if she guessed right, the other shithead in this place would make his way here, as well.

Again, she reflected on the stupidity of ignoring a raging, ravenous Beast with severe problems interacting with its fellows for the sake of etiquette. She'd have to add that to the list of why Kindred are so fucking stupid.

Then again, considering what she was doing at this very moment...

Shoving another clubgoer angrily, she finally reached the sight of Hildegaarde, lifting her head and giving her a crooked, unpleasant grin that, on anyone else, would seem flirtatious instead of disgusting. The squeal of guitars was too loud for her to be heard without shouting, and she shrugged before leaning into Hildegarde's ear, her skin crackling with the motion. Ooh, she got to get up close and personal with a pretty lady. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, then. "Yo."

Pause.

"You look fucking stupid."

Ever the charmer, Miss Ostberg. Ever the charmer.

**Hildegarde Bingen** · May 12th, 2014 06:40 PM

Hildegarde didn't notice the Haunt's approach. She was too busy observing the petty mortals tune in to their angry beasts. The howling, screeching, hammering noise crashed over her in a hurricane of raw emotion.

And in the silent pause between growls -

"You look fucking stupid."

Her head swivelled round at the sound. She recognised the other. Her Beast, already morphed into a liquid Cthonic thing that was squirming its way up her brainstem, burst outward in a mass of tendrils. Spite. Hate. Rage. As the howling madness closed in once again with the opening roar of (another?) song (?), the Lord clamped down on her mind even as an elegantly threatening pose slammed down on her limbs.

A pause. Let the roaring cacophony blast overhead.

"You look terrible and underdressed." Hildegarde replied. She had at least spent some time researching the dress code of the underground youth fringe. Her eyes ran over the individual in the baggy urban threads but once. There was a far more interesting pierced freak just behind them.

One of the herd was tuning into their conversation. Hildegarde shifted pose into something less domineering and more charged with sexual energy (it wasn't much of a change, really, but the Lord had started to notice a certain pattern in some of the posturings). Her eyes held the arrogance of the predator: one look...

...and then they turned back to the Beast standing next to her.

"Come here often?" She shrieked her enquiry as the crowd took up a fist pumping, manic, chant.

Fuck the Man! Fuck the Man!

May 12th, 2014 06:48 PM

It occurred to Baldwin that if he hadn't planned on eating part of someone at some point, all the chanting of fuck the man might drive him to. As far as Kindred society was concerned, he worked for the Man. He liked the Man just fine. Of course, the Kine weren't thinking of that. Of course, he was snippy because he was feeling nippy.

And the Beasts clashing with his and threatening constant violence that gave his own the pathetic urge to run at every turn was doing little to help his mood. No, better to face it and see what it was that was causing the Menace to shudder so.

He didn't so much walk toward the two women standing closely together as pour through the crowd, his menacing presence parting the throng as much as the breadth of his shoulders.

Sir Baldwin nodded to the pair as he approached, ever courageous despite the quailing of the Beast Within. A young thing bumped into him on the way. His head swiveled and panned down. He stared daggers. The young thing went to mosh somewhere else.

"Evening," he near-shouted over the pounding drums, blasting guitars and 'FUCK THE MAN! FUCK THE MAN!'

May 13th, 2014 02:33 AM

Kara still has her Mask of Tranquility up! Sorry if I didn't make that clear - I'll assume they just got a brief glimpse while she was amping herself up?

Ooh, this bitch had a set of brass ones on her, didn't she? Kara grinned slightly as she leaned back, bouncing on her heels in silent unison with the rest of the heaving, writhing crowd, feeling the thud of the music as it rocked her bones. She wasn't sure what she was enjoying more: the screaming rage that the band called 'music', or the subtle, thick tension she felt building between her and Hildegarde.

Biting on her lip in a twisted mockery of a flirtation, she stepped a touch closer, body brushing against Hildergarde's as she urged her Beast into competition, not fear. When Hildegarde's gaze slipped back to her face, her eyes were there to meet her, only briefly glancing away so that she could give the encroaching kine the finger.

"Yeah, but I look like shit anyway," she replied, running her pierced tongue over her lips, slowly. "You like like shit even though you put effort into your appearance. Whaddya say I get you outta that miniskirt, gorgeous, and shove some metal -"

Whatever twisted invitation Kara was about to make was interrupted by Peter's nod of greeting, and she whipped away to give him a terse, irritated nod. Awesome. Let's put three Kindred in a crowded group of amped-up kine and have them engage in the dance of their traditional social bullshit. Fuck.

**Hildegarde Bingen** · May 13th, 2014 02:52 AM

"Yes...?" Hildegarde's voice caught, her mind absorbed by the hooded individual who was right up in her face and the gentleman who appeared at her side. Her tremulous voice was carried off by the howling 'music' and the primordial roar of the crowd. Twisting and turning, her Beast writhed grossly around her brainstem. Pound. Pound. Pound.

"Hello!" She tried again, more loudly this time. A mix of anger, desire to dominate, and claustrophobic fear fed into her voice, making it harsher than she had intended. For a moment she became concerned for her safety - caught among the kine by two unfamiliar monsters. Her Beast slithered and slimed. Challenge! Fear bled into exhilaration.

On the heaving floor, the only rule was to struggle and to dominate. Her chained Beast crooned in her mind for the first time since her Chrysalis. This time, she found pleasure in the sound.

May 13th, 2014 11:55 AM

The stronger Beast he felt - here it was, lovely in its shell and terrifying in its comparative magnitude. The thumping of drums and wailing of guitars and 'FUCK YOU/FUCK THE MAN/FUCK EVERYTHING' only served to underscore it. And then Baldwin caught sight of his clanmate. That actually helped. Her Beast was hidden away unoppressively, neither hounding nor tempting his to violence with its absence.

It occurred to him that this was not a place that he expected to run into two other Kindred. He certainly would not be staying to hunt here tonight, not if the other two were doing the same. He would mind the Masquerade.

"My apologies, if I am interrupting," he said courteously. His eyes were on mostly on Kara, given the character of her greeting, but he did flash Hildegarde a smile.

After all, Kara had been all up on the pretty thing.

Was there a formula for this interaction aside from 'don't cockblock your cousin'?

May 13th, 2014 12:40 PM

Stupid fucking bitch was wonderful for conversation, wasn't she? A-hurr-durr-durr. Look at me! I'm a nice set of T&A! Someone should obviously turn me into an immortal monster of the night, right? I can barely even string two fucking words together, and my facial expression seems to default to something that makes you think a lemon's been crammed up my asshole. Mentally, Kara added another reason Kindred are stupid: the sheer amount of Embraces that have resulted from a Kindred's failure to keep it in your fucking pants.

Still, she wasn't the kind to abandon charming the ladies just because of a lack of intelligence on both her and her Sire's part. She had more swag than Bruce Wayne on cocaine, and with great power came the great responsibilty to make stupid bitches feel as uncomfortable as possible. "I said, how about I plunge my tongue up your cunt and listen to you scream-"

Oh, another fuck was here. Hello, you stupid, stupid piece of shit. What, you thought two strange Kindred meeting each other for the first time wasn't enough? You wanted to add a third to this primed-to-explode powderkeg? Well sure, sir. Let me just bend over so I'm ready to get reamed up the ass by the Reeve when we all frenzy and rip each other to shreds.

When she turned around, though, she mentally shelved that opinion, placing the face after a few moments. Ah, the other Nos, Baldwin. She remembered that face. Right; she'd have to raise her mental opinion from 'stupid undead fuck' to 'stupid undead fuck who happens to share my clan, meaning I must occasionally play nice with him.'

"Hey." Fuck, now what was she meant to do? "There's a section for smokers out the back."

Wait, was she actually giving these two losers reasonable advice in regards to conducting a conversation in the middle of a metal concert? Call the media, dickwads; that PhD in Common Fucking Sense was apparently useful after all.

This is the New Shit

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