Asa let the blood run over his tongue, feeling it stick to his fangs like sweet, sweet honey. He moved harder and faster, gorging himself on the blood and sensations. The club's music pounded a primal rhythm, that he matched, taking the girl on the dance floor as he fed.

Around him, the scene repeated itself, as the coterie gave in to their urges, taking what they were owed. Liquid eyes widened beneath the leather hood, and he could feel the girl strain against her bindings. They came here, knowing.

Knowing what waited. Knowing the dark lords of the night would accept their offerings. Weekly; nightly. Giving in to the hunger, the Beast. Pretending.

Pretending the debauchery was of their own choice, their right. That it wasn't from near starvation, that they hadn't paid their tribute hours before -- cattle themselves, so like the cattle he held.

Asa coughed and gagged as the terror hit him; hands bruised flesh as he gripped the Kine tight, tight with fear, fear that needed a shield.

Their eyes all met as they felt the Elders begin their game.

Sneaking in...

...dropping Masks in unison.

Daring them to flee, to Breach the Masquerade.

Playing their game, as the neonates played theirs. Cold fingers touched him on the neck, daring him to move. Impossibly fast, impossibly strong.

Movement in a corner, and something small and weak inside of him whimpered as the predators converged. Long minutes passed, and the candle flame surrounded by bonfires slowly faded into blank nothingness.

Triumphant laughter; smiles. Not theirs. The survivors.

Danse.

Keep dancing.

[banner]asa[/banner]