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Description
HISTORY OF A DARK ONE

Legends are made, that is an accepted fact, but in those rare instances sometimes a Legend is a living fact, a work in progress, a legend that is growing everyday out of its very existence. Such is the legend of the Dark One, The Powerful One, The Healer, Gregori of the Carpathians, the Legend's name, to describe such a Legend as deep and strong, as wonderfully compelling, so intensely handsome in his masculinity as this living legend is to speak in often hushed tones of one that is aloof, yet there always in your mind. It is to speak in whispers of his past, one riddled with conflict and loss, and a struggle to survive. As each age ticks by, from the age of man when man lived in blissful ignorance of the ills of even the most simple of his desires,desires to conquer, to possess, to be in control of all that man could see, sense or long for, to grow into an age when man still in technology strives to be the conqueror and destroy all that they do not understand is to walk then the path of this Legend's feet as they have strolled through each century. He came once from a village, in the simpler times, the times of Medevial man, a time when he and another had become leaders of a race of people that held humanity in higest regards, befriended them even, but that ended in one harsh stroke. Huns invaded with the help of the Vampires, in the height of the noon day sun, they entered a village, his village, of these peaceful ones and destroyed, slaughtered entire family lines. Only a few escaped to repopulate the race of this people, and it is because of this, since that time, Gregori has grown more and more aloof. His only friend, his only connection with sanity in his Prince. For Gregori is truly Carpathian, and male, oh yes indeed, with passions that can either raise themselves to heights of ecstacy or when he feeds, if he allows himself to go too far, can take him down to the darkest depths of what for him would be a hell. Shapeshifter, a controller of minds, eternal being, immortal seen by mortal ones, powerful in ways that cause a mere human to fail in their defenses. His gaze can command, his voice in even a whisper compel, the very sight of him is enough for mere mortal women to be enthralled, but he walks alone, for him there can be only one. That is the curse of the Carpathians, thought only to be borne by the males,but in reality not.Females of their species became more rare and rare as centuries slide by, as they give birth to far more male than female children. Hunters are trained to seek out and destroy the vampires that once were as this Dark One, but to the thirst and the thrill of the kill had finally succumbed.Thereby, in the eyes of the Carpathians, making them an abomination. Gregori is as powerful if not more so than any of these, but he sees no color, he feels no emotion, his world is a world of black, grey and white, a world where he rarely allows himself the luxury of feeling at all. For him now each day has become a struggle to survive, to not give in to that dark force that as each age creeps by becomes more and more a weight for his shoulders to bear.

Dark hair hangs in a thick curtain of sheen, his face a face of angular handsomeness that is impossible to resist. the very prescence of his walking into a room, can create for all there a moment of sudden stopping and acknowledgement then that here now in their prescence a Legend. Whispers have been heard, rare among the few, of a powerful other, a Legend in different ways. For this Legend walks in beauty, in strength and power, almost as old as Gregori and as cursed is her life. She is a hunter, aloof and deadly in her powers, a killer of those that drink to the death from their victims the life blood that flows. A Legend, yes, the same as he. She has heard of him, passed by places where he has been, sensed him and his thoughts and is fighting the same fight he is, to merely survive without giving in to become one of those that she hunts. Three centuries younger, mere days to those of their kind, this Hunter walks in shadows, and sleeps in satin. Healer, Powerful Compellor, Dark one, thus begins the tale of Gregori Romanski. Haunted, uneasy, seeking healing for her fate, the Shadowed One dreams of eternal salvation. Legends both, but more powerful he. Will the Legend, The Dark One, have to destroy the Beauty of the Shadows if she yields to the passion and drinks to deep?

"One kiss shall I take, one only and then the world shall explode in all its wonderus glories I have not seen, have not seen for centuries in an existence solitary and alone, but one kiss - ah but one kiss, and that will all be gone." These were the words that reverberated through her as she took off for her adventure this night, and it would begin at a new place in town called The Velvet Lounge.

Part One:

She had chosen the place because of the hours it kept, it suited her, it was open late. A long leg tinted with the satin low glow of black reached out from the Jaquar's front door as it too, coated in that color of night, was heard to meet the pavement with a tiny 'click' of the high heel she wore, open toed leather italian black, she unwound from that car with the gracefulness of a large feline. Reminiscent she was of a large cat - her hair the color of the sky without stars above, her eyes a sea green, almond shaped wore little makeup to enhance them, her face was like fine porceline, smooth and looked to have been carved from a godess's impression, her black satin dress was a simple sheath, thin strapped, and whispered soft resistance to the black leather seat as she unwound now fully to her long legged height. She was a slender built young woman, but not without curves well done, her arms depicted upon close inspection a person who worked out. She handed the key to the valet, along with a $50.00 bill, her lips painted in a deep red parted as she spoke low and in a tone most soothing,"Take care of it and I will take care of you." The valet just stood there transfixed even as she turned on her heel and walked into the club. Gillian had said she would be there, now all she had to do was look for where the most men were standing and Gillian would be opposite that place. And as eyes met eyes a nod was given as the assessment made of Gillian's placement was given affirmation. She raised her eyes to the waiter and ordered a brandy, and got a refill for Gillian as well. Black leather gloves that had extended to her elbows were now slowly pulled off, as she leaned over the table, concern an emotion that was most evident on her face,"How bad are you?"

It was not long for her to get the answer, she only had to take on look at Gillian to note that she was in trouble. Pale she was, and her eyes were wild, strange bruises were on her wrists and probably on her ankles, again Annie leaned close and this time used her mind,'The car is parked, can you make it as far as my flat?' A simple nod was given as Gillian rose, another fifty found its way to the table top, as she half carried and half helped her friend, no her sister by lineage of blood towards the door, nodding to a few patrons who had questions in their minds, planting the thoughts of Gillian being too drunk to walk as to why she was helping her outside. The valet had yet to park her car, he was still stunned, he had never a classier nor a more beautiful woman seen. "Keys" was all Annie said to him, and she moved with Gillian around to the passenger side and helped her in. Antoinette Katarina ValaCruz then walked to the driver's side, getting in, putting the key in the ignition and turning the beast on. The engine roared into life, and the two dark haired females of secret roared off into the night, but already Annie had made the decision she would be back, oh yes, The Velvet Lounge was going to be one of her favorite spots.

Description
HISTORY OF A DARK ONE

Legends are made, that is an accepted fact, but in those rare instances sometimes a Legend is a living fact, a work in progress, a legend that is growing everyday out of its very existence. Such is the legend of the Dark One, The Powerful One, The Healer, Gregori of the Carpathians, the Legend's name, to describe such a Legend as deep and strong, as wonderfully compelling, so intensely handsome in his masculinity as this living legend is to speak in often hushed tones of one that is aloof, yet there always in your mind. It is to speak in whispers of his past, one riddled with conflict and loss, and a struggle to survive. As each age ticks by, from the age of man when man lived in blissful ignorance of the ills of even the most simple of his desires,desires to conquer, to possess, to be in control of all that man could see, sense or long for, to grow into an age when man still in technology strives to be the conqueror and destroy all that they do not understand is to walk then the path of this Legend's feet as they have strolled through each century. He came once from a village, in the simpler times, the times of Medevial man, a time when he and another had become leaders of a race of people that held humanity in higest regards, befriended them even, but that ended in one harsh stroke. Huns invaded with the help of the Vampires, in the height of the noon day sun, they entered a village, his village, of these peaceful ones and destroyed, slaughtered entire family lines. Only a few escaped to repopulate the race of this people, and it is because of this, since that time, Gregori has grown more and more aloof. His only friend, his only connection with sanity in his Prince. For Gregori is truly Carpathian, and male, oh yes indeed, with passions that can either raise themselves to heights of ecstacy or when he feeds, if he allows himself to go too far, can take him down to the darkest depths of what for him would be a hell. Shapeshifter, a controller of minds, eternal being, immortal seen by mortal ones, powerful in ways that cause a mere human to fail in their defenses. His gaze can command, his voice in even a whisper compel, the very sight of him is enough for mere mortal women to be enthralled, but he walks alone, for him there can be only one. That is the curse of the Carpathians, thought only to be borne by the males,but in reality not.Females of their species became more rare and rare as centuries slide by, as they give birth to far more male than female children. Hunters are trained to seek out and destroy the vampires that once were as this Dark One, but to the thirst and the thrill of the kill had finally succumbed.Thereby, in the eyes of the Carpathians, making them an abomination. Gregori is as powerful if not more so than any of these, but he sees no color, he feels no emotion, his world is a world of black, grey and white, a world where he rarely allows himself the luxury of feeling at all. For him now each day has become a struggle to survive, to not give in to that dark force that as each age creeps by becomes more and more a weight for his shoulders to bear.

Dark hair hangs in a thick curtain of sheen, his face a face of angular handsomeness that is impossible to resist. the very prescence of his walking into a room, can create for all there a moment of sudden stopping and acknowledgement then that here now in their prescence a Legend. Whispers have been heard, rare among the few, of a powerful other, a Legend in different ways. For this Legend walks in beauty, in strength and power, almost as old as Gregori and as cursed is her life. She is a hunter, aloof and deadly in her powers, a killer of those that drink to the death from their victims the life blood that flows. A Legend, yes, the same as he. She has heard of him, passed by places where he has been, sensed him and his thoughts and is fighting the same fight he is, to merely survive without giving in to become one of those that she hunts. Three centuries younger, mere days to those of their kind, this Hunter walks in shadows, and sleeps in satin. Healer, Powerful Compellor, Dark one, thus begins the tale of Gregori Romanski. Haunted, uneasy, seeking healing for her fate, the Shadowed One dreams of eternal salvation. Legends both, but more powerful he. Will the Legend, The Dark One, have to destroy the Beauty of the Shadows if she yields to the passion and drinks to deep?

"One kiss shall I take, one only and then the world shall explode in all its wonderus glories I have not seen, have not seen for centuries in an existence solitary and alone, but one kiss - ah but one kiss, and that will all be gone." These were the words that reverberated through her as she took off for her adventure this night, and it would begin at a new place in town called The Velvet Lounge.

Part One:

She had chosen the place because of the hours it kept, it suited her, it was open late. A long leg tinted with the satin low glow of black reached out from the Jaquar's front door as it too, coated in that color of night, was heard to meet the pavement with a tiny 'click' of the high heel she wore, open toed leather italian black, she unwound from that car with the gracefulness of a large feline. Reminiscent she was of a large cat - her hair the color of the sky without stars above, her eyes a sea green, almond shaped wore little makeup to enhance them, her face was like fine porceline, smooth and looked to have been carved from a godess's impression, her black satin dress was a simple sheath, thin strapped, and whispered soft resistance to the black leather seat as she unwound now fully to her long legged height. She was a slender built young woman, but not without curves well done, her arms depicted upon close inspection a person who worked out. She handed the key to the valet, along with a $50.00 bill, her lips painted in a deep red parted as she spoke low and in a tone most soothing,"Take care of it and I will take care of you." The valet just stood there transfixed even as she turned on her heel and walked into the club. Gillian had said she would be there, now all she had to do was look for where the most men were standing and Gillian would be opposite that place. And as eyes met eyes a nod was given as the assessment made of Gillian's placement was given affirmation. She raised her eyes to the waiter and ordered a brandy, and got a refill for Gillian as well. Black leather gloves that had extended to her elbows were now slowly pulled off, as she leaned over the table, concern an emotion that was most evident on her face,"How bad are you?"

It was not long for her to get the answer, she only had to take on look at Gillian to note that she was in trouble. Pale she was, and her eyes were wild, strange bruises were on her wrists and probably on her ankles, again Annie leaned close and this time used her mind,'The car is parked, can you make it as far as my flat?' A simple nod was given as Gillian rose, another fifty found its way to the table top, as she half carried and half helped her friend, no her sister by lineage of blood towards the door, nodding to a few patrons who had questions in their minds, planting the thoughts of Gillian being too drunk to walk as to why she was helping her outside. The valet had yet to park her car, he was still stunned, he had never a classier nor a more beautiful woman seen. "Keys" was all Annie said to him, and she moved with Gillian around to the passenger side and helped her in. Antoinette Katarina ValaCruz then walked to the driver's side, getting in, putting the key in the ignition and turning the beast on. The engine roared into life, and the two dark haired females of secret roared off into the night, but already Annie had made the decision she would be back, oh yes, The Velvet Lounge was going to be one of her favorite spots.