somanyadjectives | unnamed } { there will be no escape because he's fallen far from grace

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unnamed } { there will be no escape because he's fallen far from grace

Stefan comes out of Chicago broken.

There are gaps in his memory, blackouts from the times he went too far overboard, and a hunger that drives him further than it should. With each life he takes, his list feels less like an accomplishment and more like a compulsion, especially considering he can't remember half the names on the list. It makes him feel like he's losing more and more control. He doesn't know where or how to stop, so he doesn't even bother.

It probably wouldn't be as bad if he didn't feel like there was something missing. A profound sense of loss that would indicate he's feeling something, but he doesn't know what it is he's lost. He keeps the necklace he found on him at all times, unsure of why he feels the need to protect it so fiercely, but he doesn't dare let it go. It's all he has right now.

No brother. No friends. Just death.

When you're a vampire, death is the one friend that never truly leaves you.

He's currently combing a speakeasy for his latest victim - not Gloria's. The bar has too many shadows that creep under his skin, trying to remind him of something that keep falling through the holes in his memory. He goes somewhere he doesn't know, somewhere he can drown himself in alcohol, blood, and whatever else happens to come his way.

Yep. He's a peach. Have fun, Helen.

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Helen's been to America plenty of times by now. After a few decades of establishing the Sanctuary in London, she's begun to branch out, making connections in other countries and starting to make her presence known to the right people, while remaining completely hidden from others.

That's why she's here. This speak easy is supposed to be where she meets a new connection, forges an alliance. But she's been stood up. Perhaps it makes her look more vulnerable, sitting at a table alone with her drink. She doesn't look uncomfortable, but maybe a bit out of place... out of time.

Stefan does notice her, for all of those reasons. He glances over at her from the table he's sitting at, watching her for a moment, before getting to his feet and making his way over, drink in hand.

"You seem lonely."

Helen notices him before he arrives at the side of her table. Looking up at him, an amused sort of smirk starts to form.

"Seems a rather rude thing to say to a lady, don't you think?" Not that she seems so offended. "But I suppose I could stand to have some company." She gestures to the empty chair at the table.

Stefan smiles a bit as he slides into the seat across from her, shrugging a bit as he goes. "I've found that sometimes it's better to be honest. I can admit, it was a bit rude, but ... it got the point across, at least."

"That it did." She looks him over, studies him. "I can appreciate a man being... direct." After a moment, she sets down her drink and offers a hand. "Helen."

He turns and takes her hand, bringing it politely to his lips, as his breeding and manners dictate. "Stefan. A pleasure."

Instead of blushing at the gesture, Helen only tilts her head slightly, approvingly. Manners are certainly a way to get her attention.

"And what brings you to a place like this tonight, Stefan?"

He shrugs slightly. "I was looking to be out in the world - unfortunately I forgot that I'm a little ill equipped to deal with people at the moment. My mood hasn't been the greatest as of late."

Well, that's certainly an interesting admission.

"And yet you thought to come talk to me? Hoping I may lift your spirits?"

Stefan shrugs. He isn't sure what drew him to her table in the first place, but she certainly intrigued him.

"You don't seem like most of the women who come here. I was hoping you might be more interesting."

"Perhaps," She leans in a bit. "That's because I'm not like most women. But what's to say that you'd be any interest to me, hm?"

"Oh, I can be quite interesting," he says with a small, slow smile. "It just depends on what type of interesting you're looking for."

"Well, where's the fun in me telling you what I like?" This is quite the game she's found herself in. Not that she minds. Helen sips at her drinking, regarding him with a careful eye. "Why don't you guess and I'll tell you just how right you are?"

A guessing game. Not his usual fare - but he's overdue for something new. He considers quietly for a moment, watching her carefully as he takes note of what she's drinking, as well as what she's wearing.

"You're certainly not the normal kind of woman we have in here. Most of them can't hold their liquor quite as well."

"I've never been one to let a little gin go to my head, if that's what you mean." She arches an eyebrow, because that's still not much of a guess- just an observation.

Observations are how guesses get started. "No, you're much more ... worldly than that. Most women are here to hear stories of those who have traveled - you seem like you've already seen it." He can recognize that old soul look in her eyes. Sometimes he sees it when he looks in the mirror.

"Did the accent give me away?" She's teasing him a little. Traveling to America is hardly all that worldly for most people. But she does like this place, or maybe it's just the company.

He laughs. "Not the accent. It's in your eyes." Just because they traveled from England to Chicago, doesn't necessarily make them well traveled. Helen just had ... something else about her.

"Well, now you're just trying to charm me." She leans forward on the table. "Keep going- it might be working."

He grins widely at that. "Only might be? You're not getting my hopes up, are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." But her smile only shows more mischief and she winks before settling back in her seat. She's young and a little too reckless. But she also isn't afraid of a man like him. She's dealt with worse, as far as she can tell.

He likes them young and reckless. More importantly, he likes those who challenge him, and he certainly does that. "I would hope not." He turns to flag down a waitress for a refill for himself, before glancing back to her.

"Would you like another drink?"

She doesn't respond right away, keeping her eyes on him while she smirks and weighs the options of it. She taps her finger to the side of her glass, letting the silence hang between them.

"On one condition..." She arches an eyebrow, a challenge written all over her expression. "We don't have it here. Do you live nearby?"

That raises his eyebrows just slightly, considering her again for the moment. Maybe she really is more than she seems to be. He talks a good game, and most of what he was saying earlier is true, but there's something about the question - a question he's usually asking - that intrigues him even more.

"Not too far," he nods. "A couple of blocks away."

"Perfect." She says, that little smirk firmly in place. There's something about him, something she wants to know about. A more timid woman would stay in public view, but Helen is too curious for her own good. She thinks she can learn more about him in private.

"Shall we, then?" She means to go now. No time like the present, after all.

Stefan raises his eyebrows, before nodding and getting to his feet. He turns to the side and offers her his arm as he does. "We shall." Off to his apartment. Where Stefan will have to decide if he's going to eat her or not.

It's a toss up at this point.

Following him from the speak easy to his apartment, Helen takes her time to look around the place when they first enter. You can learn a lot about a person from the way they keep their home, after all. She doesn't seem at all anxious about coming into his place with him. Alone. She simply seems comfortable- in this place, in this city, in her own skin. Helen is adaptable. She can make herself at home anywhere.

Stefan's apartment is fairly bare bones. All of the luxuries - the alcohol, and his long, long list of victims are hidden behind the secret compartment. He isn't sure if he's going to share yet, but he's considering it.

"Make yourself at home."

By the time he offers for her to do so, Helen's in the center of the room. She turns to face him.

"Not much for extravagance, are you?" It's interesting to her, intriguing in wonderful ways.

He pauses, before shaking his head. "I'm not sure how much longer I'll be in Chicago. It doesn't make sense to put too much into it." If he's going to put the effort into the finer touches, he wants it to be somewhere permanent. Also not something he's going to spill blood all over.

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unnamed } { there will be no escape because he's fallen far from grace

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