Chanimal, [open open o p e n]

[|Bastian Blood|]

Bast jerks through the door of Mr. Chans and slams it behind him like he was being followed before turning around to glance at the staring people inside. I just wants some wantons, he thinks, so why the fuck is everyone looking at me like that? A calloused hand runs over the back of his neck and up through mostly black hair before he finally helps himself to a seat near one of the windows. Light brown eyes flicker over a menu as he listens to the tune of his stomach grumbling. Eventually a petite chinese man comes over to take his order with a pad and pencil but he's looking a bit too nervous to make Bast' feel at ease. So Bastian elegantly voices his concern,

"What?"

"Pardon?"

"I said what. As in, what the fuck are you looking at me like that for?"

He checks himself for blood. Sometimes when he gets going, you know, really going he forgets that he's got blood on his clothes when he's finished and situations like this one here arise. No blood and the man's still standing there staring at him. Broad shoulders slouch in defeat, "Okay, okay fine." he says as he picks up his menu by one corner so he doesn't risk touching the guy when he hands it back... you never know what these foreigners have.

"You ready?"

"Ready."

"Wantons, the house special and some chow mein. You have that, right? The kind with the little shrimp in it?"

"shrimp chow mein, yes, we have."

"Yeah, but do they still have their legs on'm? because I can't eat that shit it grosses me out."

"No.. no Sir, we take leg off."

"Okay, that's good then. All right. Iced-tea to drink."

The man repeats his order back to him and Bastian manages to sit there and listen without screaming some racial obscenity in his face. Jaw firm and teeth bared in a mad dog type of way he trys to pull off as a smile, but silent none the less. When he leaves Bast snaps up a straw and angrily shreds the wrapper off before balling it up and flicking it across the room. Now people really are looking at him.

"fucking beautiful."

[Ophelia De'Amor]

Did Ophelia know who Bastian was? Not really. Who people were- who was working with who.. beyond the realm of what she deamed a threat or a person who could help with whatever task- whatever mission- she saw fit. Rarely did she eat chinese food- honestly, rarely did she spend time outside of her own home. But.. since the force of that vampiric fiend to give the location of her home, she had spent less time. Sure, the charms were still in place. But Ophelia was by nature a nervous person and in the reference Gabriel.. things were especially tense.

Today however, she'd broken her tendencies and sprung for chinese. Really, there was no special occasion behind it; Her obsessions and whims with watching vampire activity had grown especially more intense, especially in recent events. The Marquis- Sonny- both were something far different from Gabriel and really, she wanted an answer.

Not that it'd come in a place like this. Even still Bastian presently served as an interestin focus. Witch to warlock- or whatever it was that a male witch wanted to call himself- she studied what she could more than mildly tempted to take her cards out and get what she could. But; this was Chan's. She wasn't that dumb.

{hokay, lame post.. I am quite sorry}

[|Bastian Blood|]

Bastian pulls out a cigarette to give his twitching fingers something to do and hopefully to calm those shot nerves of his. Fire sparks to light and the first slow inhale has steamed up his lungs when the little chinese man rushes to his table gesturing that he must put it out. Brown eyes stare at the fellow in shock before he crushes the glowing cherry out against the bottom of his shoe and hands the wasted cigarette to the nervous looking man like a child who's been caught. Should have put it out in his eye, he thinks as he leans into his booth and lets his head tilt back. He swears he can feel the blood pump through his ears and rattle his brain.

"Well," Bast' finally says as he gets tired of waiting for his food. "What do you think? Shall we burn the place down?" He's addressed the last pair of eyes to continue to bore into his body like burning cinders, Ophelia's. Legs pull up onto the booth as he shifts his weight sideways. He's not exactly a charming man, his otherwise thick black hair shows signs of silver and his face has that worn look which suggests either drug use or more life than his body should have lived by now, maybe both, but its the eyes that really give away his unwellness. That clarity only comes to the mad and the genius and, well, usually they're one and the same.

Thick fingers rub together creating a sharp snapping sound as he drapes one arm against the booth's back and sucks air between his white teeth. "No, I don't mean really - well, I meant it but I'm not going to do it. Its just... I don't wait very well and this faggot's trying my patience." Digits rub at his eyes before he shakes his head back and forth like an animal might, it seems he has a hard time with the whole social niceness side of things. "You look like I feel," he finally says in a last ditch effort at communication. Truth be told, she looks nothing like he feels.

[Ophelia De'Amor]

"There's probably be a few who'd be a little more than upset if you did." She offered a dim though pleasant smile and shifted her gaze about. Surely this fellow knew what Chan's was. She watched him turn to address her and she used the moment to asses his appearance and tones. Crazy. Maybe a drug addict, but there was far too much focus or something for him to be a drug addict. At least to be one hopelessly lost to addiction. Maybe he dabbled. She curiously went over this in her own mind before he spoke again, effectively returning her thoughts back to the current conversation.

"They usually don't take too kindly to people setting things on fire- slow service or not." she smiled lightly; kindly despite his somewhat offsetting appearance and comments. Far more pleasantly than most would under the situation. Then again.. if she hadn't been wearing her jacket the various bandages she was still wearing from her struggle with Gabriel King. That, however, was personal business and definitely something she'd refrain from sharing with a seemingly crazy man in a vampire owned Chinese restaurant. Besides. Knowing her luck (at least, the way it seemed to be going lately) He'd be working for the disgusting vampire.

"really? How do you feel?" This time, she was clearly curious, eyes intent onto him in attempts to somehow see what it was he was feeling. Usually, she could guess. This time, however.. it wasn't so easy.

[|Bastian Blood|]

"How do I feel?" Curious isn't the word which would describe his need to repeat questions. Obnoxious might be a better choice. Dragging fingers to his neck, he toys with the chain of bones, both charms and sadistic tangible memories from things past and to come. "I'm not here even a month, right? Bloody family business, and I already got some dame going crazy over me." He rolls the collar of his shirt up as if he'd just caught a draft as his body sinks lower into the booth. Brown eyes swinging in her direction before he continues with his ranting, "Not that I mind a little... you know. What man doesn't like that? But she's got me up to my ears in crazy with Jesus talk and repenting. I say, what for? And she starts going on about heaven-"

Bastian sits up again and his features become very serious. You could almost think he were sane when he looked like that, "You can believe whatever you want, doll, but there isn't anything called heaven. We've got to make it right here, right now. That's why I'm having Chinese. That's what I want - I'm making my own heaven." Gruff hands lift, blood stained nails catching in the light, "I'm like God, right? We're all gods on this miserable shit stain of an earth."


The Chinese man comes and delivers his plates which are filled with more food than he expected. After picking up a shrimp to check that there aren't legs or eyes attached he leans back into the seat and considers his options. "How're you feeling?" He finally counters as he moves his fork away and picks up a pair of chopsticks. He's strangely adept with the utensils and is soon slurping up noodles and drinking tea as he awaits an explanation.

[Ophelia De'Amor]

She listened with every bit of polite honesty she'd ever been taught. She remembered the Jesus talks- a man that no matter what, she never quite seemed to understand why he'd been so different. He probably had been some sort of witch. Seemed logical to her, at least. Maybe not to the people in that old small town she'd used to live in. Nor to the various people handing out those strange little tracts of stories and wisdom. Had she read the bible? Yes. It had interesting stories.

"Religion is something I never quite got. Then again, I wasn't raised with it. I heard about it, but nothing beyond fairy tales." What had she been raised with? Pretty much nothing to do with religion. Herbs, things of the earth- those were the real supernatural things. "We're all gods. That's exactly what I was taught, in a sense. I'm a god, but not." She laughed quietly, and shook her head.

How was she feeling? It was hard to even begin on that little bit of information so she did what any woman- witch or not- would do in such a situation. Lie. "I'm feeling alright. Can't complain.. I've got food and a moment of peace-" A moment. Not much more probably. The moment she'd walk out that door.... who knew. Perhaps she should invest in finding somewhere safe. Somewhere that a damn vampire like Gabriel couldn't go.

"How're you liking Aldenville?" A simple enough question, with so many possibilities

[|Bastian Blood|]

"You know what I always thought was crazy? What I'm working towards? Those people that can find peace anywhere. That can make it. Now," Bastian says, leaning back in his booth and fingering a piece of shrimp between thick digits before looking in her direction once more, "don't get me wrong, I'm no fucked pussy pacifist, I'd rather fight than turn the other cheek... but I admire that power. To make peace." the last part whispered as if the words were precious. He chews another bite of rice and sea monster before running a hand through his mostly black (and gray) hair. One can't deny that Bastian has a charming quality, a handsomeness to him if you can get past the blood streaks and maniac grins, something that compels one to be brave.



"Aldenville's fine." He says as he picks up another shrimp and mushes its body between his fingers until the flesh is all mangled and squashed. "To be honest though, seems like a bunch of fucking pricks live here. You're the first person I meet that doesn't have a death wish. Am I just an asshole magnet or is it something Aldenville does to people?" He eats the mushed shrimp before shoving his plate away. His appetite could use some work in the stability field. Then again, so could the rest of him. "Come sit with me." he suggests before inching a black brow high on his forehead, the devil staring out of those intense glittering blackish eyes, "or are you afraid that I might bite?"

[Ophelia De'Amor]

"In this city, it's an even rarer gift" she muttered- more for her own good than his, honestly. Aldenville was a cesspool of discomfort and disease, though part of her still worked, possibly, to make it better. Somehow. Someway. It was a hell of a job and one that she was inwardly failing- but still trying none the less. Trying as hard as one near pacifist early 20-something witch could manage.

She regarded Bastian momentarily, noting that many girls would've quite probably found him fascinating and charming- handsome even. Even she, despite a less-than-average manner of analyzing men and her romantic interests could see that, though she could also see the blood and the manic grins and the dull unsettling feeling his tones just managed to send. It wasn't enough to send her running, however; and just as she was about to concoct an oh-so-clever response to his observation on the popular culture in Aldenville he offered a seat- or more demanded. Something like that, which really she didn't think on, nor did it seem to bother her.

"Not at all. You're unsettling and strange but biting is not your intent.. not now, at least." She moved from her own table and sat down at his, honesty clear and still pleasant, despite the biting words. Somehow she seemed able to be pleasant regardless of what was being said- especially when what was said had no intent of insult or mockery. "And... Aldenville is just full of assholes-" She lowered her tone just barely at the use of a curse word- habit from growing up and surrounding herself with people who where naturally less inclined to cuss. Not that it bothered her- it was, like so many other things, habit. "There's no getting away from it. I work for an asshole."

If she was afraid or nervous, she was damn good at hiding it. Then again, now that she was closer, it was a deal more apparent that she wasn't run of the mill human, either.

[|Bastian Blood|]

"Not at all. You're unsettling and strange but biting is not your intent.. not now, at least." she'd said after sitting down. Bastian turns in the booth and drapes one lanky arm along its spine before shifting his gaze to play over her. The silence that comes from him is a change from the behavior expressed before. The crude language, obvious flicker between sane and calculating insanity behind chocolate lenses, and the strange philosophies that drifted from brain to lips without pause all gone. For a long long moment he lets his fingers drum silently against the table before finally lofting a dark brow,

"No, not now." He admits before leaning forward in a way that casts his shaggy hair over his eyes, stubble covered chin moving as he licks his chapped lower lip, "but so are you, aren't you? Strange, I mean. I don't believe in coincidence, and the fact that you talk to me instead of running away screaming, despite reading quite clearly my... 'aura' says something. Don't you think? Egg roll?" Bast holds the plate of untouched food up before putting it back down. His intensity has increased three fold and brings with it a new curiosity, of a dangerous type.

He leans back once more, lets the air settle between them while they digest their thoughts. One of his hands straying to his pocket where that smooth stone shaped like a human finger bone lay, one side strangely caved in. He pulls the little charm free and lets the thick pad of his thumb rub over it as his eyes take on that veteran's 1000 mile stare. Bastian's never been good at picking up signals, or reading people unless he intends to kill them and this situation is no different. He knows that something is going on with her but he can't exactly place what it might be. She's slippery.

"Who do you work for?" he questions, snapping out of his daze to focus his eyes on hers. There are souls, personalities, swimming in those oculars. If he'd created art instead of murdering people he could have been famous with a personality like his. Too bad people evolved into this sick disease that calls itself man. Wanting order and law and justice, even for those that don't deserve it. His hand lifts to his lips and he lets the bo- the stone, slip into his mouth before brushing the hair from before his eyes. "Let me interrupt you for just a moment," he says and glances around them, "why's that place across the way so full of people and this one so dead? Doesn't seem to make sense. I'm Bastian, by the way, did I say that already? I tend to lose my head around pretty lady's like you."

[Ophelia De'Amor]

She laughed quietly, pleasantly. "Perhaps.. but then, aren't there girls out there that are attracted to that? Maybe I'm one of those. You know, lost and lonely and lookin' for something dangerous. That I'm really just quite curious." By her tone, she was more than not serious. "And I'm definitely strange.. no mistakes there. And I imagine to some I could be unsettling.. or.. I think I just might wish it could be like that."

Her? Unsettling? Yea, Right. She was as unsettling as a lycan was interested in vegan food. "No thank you, I'm full" He'd definitely understood what she was good at- reading people. Then again.. a person like hers with talents like she had definitely had to be good at reading things like that. Especially if she wanted to make any sort of money. If he'd come into the store, she would have more than guessed what sort of items he'd be interested in- the sort that she took no part in. Partly, she could 'feel' him analyzing, trying to get a read on her, pick up whatever info he could. She relaxed barely, quietly paying the table a good mind of attetion before he asked whom she worked for.

"A king, you could say. But only to some." To some, witches seemed harmless- maybe even a bit below the supernatural belt; there were quite a few in the world who claimed to have the talents of a witch, but few were every truly gifted with something beyond the practices of dying religions. But to people like her- or even like him- there was a game to meetings such as this, something as subtle as a different word or a shift in movement; his question and statements were enough to clue her in, synch the so-called dance. Ophelia? She was different. She played the game, muttered the chants and even read all that she could from everything- but unlike some, who's moves were bold and violent, her own were subtle, tiny shifts in words or emotion that gave way to something completely new. A melding of humanity and supernaturality. For a moment, she regarded his eyes in quiet study, her own deceivingly transparent eyes studying his intently, without ever once seeming to pry too hard. For a second, her gaze flicked to whatever it was he'd put into his mouth and a second later, her smile quirked just a bit before lowering back into pleasantness.

"well, I think that it has alot to do with the service. And really, I don't think you did. It's a pleasure, Bastian." she muttered his name with all the dull sort of peacefullness that just didn't seem to exist in a world like Aldenville. "I'm Ophelia."

[|Bastian Blood|]

"The service, yes, that must be it." Bastian agrees and glances around the place. Its occures to him suddenly just how empty the restaurant is. Even the polite chinese man has faded away into the background. He lets his nostrils flare before swinging his gaze to the door. Nothing. He would have been right at home had he been turned into a lycan. He certainly seems to have the natural affinity for things animalistic.

"Its wonderful to meet you, Ophelia," he says smoothly, the sound of his voice holding that thick velvety quality cigarette smoking brings about before it really sinks its teeth into your flesh and turns everything inside out. His thick brows furrow, "You said you work for a King?" A shark's grin slowly seeping across his face as he pulls his attention from the door and looks back to her. "Funny you should say that, I am looking for a King."


A King among other things. Anything with power or violence intrigues Bastian.





(Sorry its short!)

[Ophelia De'Amor]

"that.. And I guess no one is hungry for Chinese." she mused briefly, attention far from focused onto the less-than busy nature of the establishment. She'd both expected and known it'd be like that. Across the street there would've been too many people- too many people that could've been watching her. At least here.. well, she could see more of the surroundings which meant more time to react hopefully.

"Yea. But he only fashions himself as one. His time is coming, he is just too deluded to know it yet." Suddenly, her otherwise pleasant voice held a trace of something darker than the usual, a sort of stubbornness. When he said he was looking for a king, her gaze shifted barely and her pleasant smile quirked- just for a fraction of a second- into dark amusement. "You'll have to find this king on your own. I wont be helping his numbers in anyway." There it was, that fine ray of darkness that just happened to gleam through all that demure pleasantness. Of course it'd be in reference to her 'king' Gabriel king. Who really had only been given the title of 'king' through her own dull sarcastic hinting. In no means did she see him as a king; or even worthy of the little power he pretended to have.

[it's all good, mine's full of Benedryl delirium and short as well. We wanna wrap this up?]

[|Bastian Blood|]

(Shore.)

Bastian's about to ask for more information on this King when he catches on to that flickering tongue of darkness that's managed to squeeze itself between the girl's lips. He smiles a broad smile before catching himself. "They're all corruptable," he muses, meaning women, but possibly sounding as if he were still talking about this King, and in that second he goes off into Bastianland, visibly drifting into some other place as his eyes fog over and his jaw sets firm.

"I've got to go." he asserts suddenly before expelling himself from the booth with alarming force. "Rest assured, dear beautiful Ophelia, we will meet again. Until then," a strange curt bow offered, "try not to miss me too much. I'll be in your dreams." It would have been sweet if he weren't so serious. Only time will tell if he actually does make it into her dreams (which he intends to try).

As he backs his way towards the door the restaurant owner comes out to see that he makes it clear of the shop without destroying anything of value. Bastian tips an imaginary hat at him as he slams the door open and takes a step out onto the sidewalk. "Thank you for such a lovely dinner, Jap. Go back to Korea!" And then he's gone.