A Curse Befalls The Wicked: Henry is walking the streets watching as the remnants of the carnival fall away, as the carts and rides move out of this world. Then, ahead of him, he sees an old woman stumble and start to fall. Henry is there to catch her from the fall in the blink of an eye, holding her by her shoulders until she is steady on her feet once again.
"A you alright?" He asks as he carefully lets go of her shoulders, looking her over.
"Yes, and thank you, young man," She says, and Henry's lips curve into a half-smile, the smell of, not your average human, perhaps not even mortal. "
"Oh, I am hardly a young man," He laughs softly, and I think you are very much aware of that. He offers her his arm, and as she takes it, he guides them both into the tavern for something warm to drink.
"Perhaps I am aware of that." She gives a soft laugh in return.
After what he thought was quite a lovely conversation, the coin she gave him starts to heat in his pocket.
What he finds horrifies him. He's seen it before, in Salem, throughout his long life. "You burn someone for writing wrongs committed against them when you praise and reward us for similar deeds and punish us at times for showing kindness and goodwill."
Stand Your Ground: Henry stands outside under one of the awnings in a black raincoat, umbrella fingers curled around the handle of an umbrella, watching the rain with a curious expression. He holds a glass out from under the awning, watching it fill with the odd mix of blood and water. He smells it and decides it might not be worth the risk, pouring it out onto the ground with a shake of his head. It didn't seem quite right. It was watered down anyway.
You mustn't be late for the ball: Henry walks into the room, and it's like moving back in time, a time remembered; it's odd to be back in a time he remembers. The clothes are no problem for him. He dresses in the suit laid out for him made of deep blues with the purple; he still has the muscle memory of putting the deep purple cravat around his neck and sliding the pin into the fabric to hold it in place. He leans into the mirror, fixing his hair. This kind of event is where he shines, no matter the era.
He heads to the ball, smiling a little; he walks around the drinks and drugs deciding how much of a risk he wants to take tonight. He smiles when he sees the punch bowl full of blood and takes a glass, holding it under his nose and inhaling deeply before taking a sip.
His eyes watch the crowd looking for any manner of partner tonight.
Follow Me Down As Henry wanders through the sleeping forms the acts of eroticism, he finds himself so fully tempted it's a struggle to resist the urge, he's always loved the more carnal side of life, when both parties are able to enjoy the acts, but it seems everyone is out cold. The longer he lingers here, the more he can feel the predatory side of him rumble and rise. But it's not the need to feed; it's the need for touch and connection that he hasn't had since he arrived here.
Wild Card: If there is something you want we can chat on plurk.
OOC: Ball: He'll dance, he'll drink your blood if you want him to, he's open for marriage.
Follow Me Down: He's open to men and women and humanoid creatures, if you want him to lose a bit of control and feed on your character or have sex while your character is sleeping or want him asleep hit me up on plurk: Fuck_Mars
Henry Sturges | Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
Henry is walking the streets watching as the remnants of the carnival fall away, as the carts and rides move out of this world. Then, ahead of him, he sees an old woman stumble and start to fall. Henry is there to catch her from the fall in the blink of an eye, holding her by her shoulders until she is steady on her feet once again.
"A you alright?" He asks as he carefully lets go of her shoulders, looking her over.
"Yes, and thank you, young man," She says, and Henry's lips curve into a half-smile, the smell of, not your average human, perhaps not even mortal. "
"Oh, I am hardly a young man," He laughs softly, and I think you are very much aware of that. He offers her his arm, and as she takes it, he guides them both into the tavern for something warm to drink.
"Perhaps I am aware of that." She gives a soft laugh in return.
After what he thought was quite a lovely conversation, the coin she gave him starts to heat in his pocket.
What he finds horrifies him. He's seen it before, in Salem, throughout his long life. "You burn someone for writing wrongs committed against them when you praise and reward us for similar deeds and punish us at times for showing kindness and goodwill."
Stand Your Ground:
Henry stands outside under one of the awnings in a black raincoat, umbrella fingers curled around the handle of an umbrella, watching the rain with a curious expression. He holds a glass out from under the awning, watching it fill with the odd mix of blood and water. He smells it and decides it might not be worth the risk, pouring it out onto the ground with a shake of his head. It didn't seem quite right. It was watered down anyway.
You mustn't be late for the ball:
Henry walks into the room, and it's like moving back in time, a time remembered; it's odd to be back in a time he remembers. The clothes are no problem for him. He dresses in the suit laid out for him made of deep blues with the purple; he still has the muscle memory of putting the deep purple cravat around his neck and sliding the pin into the fabric to hold it in place. He leans into the mirror, fixing his hair. This kind of event is where he shines, no matter the era.
He heads to the ball, smiling a little; he walks around the drinks and drugs deciding how much of a risk he wants to take tonight. He smiles when he sees the punch bowl full of blood and takes a glass, holding it under his nose and inhaling deeply before taking a sip.
His eyes watch the crowd looking for any manner of partner tonight.
Follow Me Down
As Henry wanders through the sleeping forms the acts of eroticism, he finds himself so fully tempted it's a struggle to resist the urge, he's always loved the more carnal side of life, when both parties are able to enjoy the acts, but it seems everyone is out cold. The longer he lingers here, the more he can feel the predatory side of him rumble and rise. But it's not the need to feed; it's the need for touch and connection that he hasn't had since he arrived here.
Wild Card: If there is something you want we can chat on plurk.
OOC: Ball: He'll dance, he'll drink your blood if you want him to, he's open for marriage.
Follow Me Down: He's open to men and women and humanoid creatures, if you want him to lose a bit of control and feed on your character or have sex while your character is sleeping or want him asleep hit me up on plurk: Fuck_Mars