Ignorance Is Bliss: She was the epitome of innocence. Untouched, pure, and far too attractive for her own good. A girl of the Lord, it wasn't a surprise that she hadn't given in to her raging hormones. After all, they were forbidden and shunned upon, under the scrutiny of her beloved God. She was sixteen, and things were beginning to change. Especially, when she met him. A man considerably older, wiser, and dangerous. Soon enough, he swept her right off those clean, white sandals of her's. He opened her eyes to a world of sex, paraphernalia, dark and gritty reality. He had her world turned upside down, and she was addicted.
Blood Doll: Far too curious for her own good, she always ended up in the wrong places, at the wrong time. After sneaking out of her house at an ungodly hour, she found herself trampling along the midnight streets of the city, and soon enough, in the heady atmosphere of an underground club. Vampires. Ghouls. Werewolves. They all went bump in the night, and she loved it. The attraction was immediate, and intense. Eyes met, and soon enough, her young body was humming with lust. He took her in, and she found herself trapped in a world of luscious coaxing, luxurious gifts, and giving up her blood to the undead, hungry man that was far too charming for his own good.
The Bookworm: Quiet, shy, introverted, intelligent and addicted to novels. She was the living, breathing, walking and talking epitome of a bookworm. She kept to herself, and didn't mind it. Hiding under everyone's radar, until, that new 'kid' showed up. He was everything her momma warned her about. He smoked, he rode a motorcycle, he slapped girls on the asses, and he liked her. He was sweet, and she was nervous, but soon enough, she found his tainted persona to be appealing. He could show her things that she didn't know existed. Sneaking off during class, messing around under the bleachers, and staying out all night. Soon enough, that bookworm was going to be all his.
Written In Blood: She always had the tendency to get herself caught up in the wrong crowds. Really, she didn't mean it, not by a long-shot. Yet, that didn't change a damn thing. After a crucial, tough and tiring childhood of being swapped from one foster house to another, she finally found herself settled in. It was a quaint, if not grungy apartment in the toiling, toxic streets of downtown Los Angeles. The graveyard shift at a local breeding ground called Femme Fatale kept the money flowing, as long as she kept the drinks coming. She mixed them well, and she served them with that capturing smile. Of course, it was all a ruse. The crowd wasn't normal, they didn't even have beating hearts. It was a scene for the hushed community of the immortal council to gather at, searching out willing patrons to become loyal consorts. A feast of blood and sex, at their every whim. It was a relationship that worked, and something she knew nothing about. That was until she met him. He was different, dangerous, and he made her feel like no one else ever had before. Yet, she was off the menu, but that never did stop him before, now did it? He had centuries on her, and a basis of knowledge that would ultimately render her completely helpless.
Burlesque: The early 1900s and cabaret showings, theatrical scenes and the extravaganza of tragic parodies. They were all the rage, more-so, the women who performed such sultry numbers were. She was a star, rising from the dust of her fallen childhood. She had the voice, the body, the humor, the talent and it. She was untouchable, coaxing the money from the sewn pockets of men, and women alike, finding her life to be a glamorous movie within itself. She was a temptress that tempted them all, no matter the sex or the age. Yet, no man dared to snare this whispered upon vixen, falling short of being able to call her their own. She remained secluded, put away from the chain and ball that relationships caused. However, there was always the time for something to change, as did her wardrobe, every day. He wanted her, just like everyone else, but he would go to lengths far beyond the imagination to get what he deemed, to be rightfully his. She knew him, they had flirted, shared quiet confessions, but she had yet to cave in. Was she finally meeting her match, with his stubborn personality and his headstrong sense of devoting himself to her? Maybe so. After all, he was awfully handsome and goodness, he knew exactly what to say, and when to say it.
Salvation: "I ask but three things be granted to me in these times of horror and death wrought by man’s inhumanity to man, called war. First, I ask that I may be silent and unseen in my quest to perform my duty with perseverance, loyalty, honor and courage. Second, may I shoot straight and kill my much respected enemy quickly, with one shot so that he does not suffer and writhe in pain. Lastly dear Lord, I ask that you grant me the ability to be cunning and smart in my quest to be victorious over my enemy and adapt to whatever he may put before me by using the assets you have placed on this earth and the abilities instilled within me." It had been 10 months since the enemy attempted to overrun the city with occult means, day after day, night after night, the city defenders fought for every inch. The only means of slaying the foul beasts from beyond is by a single silver bullet through their heart or their head, but silver was rare, so only the best marksmen were given the honor of delivering the killing shot while his comrades play the unfortunate role of distraction. As skilled as these snipers were, the silver bullets were never enough to go around.
Trash City: 1960. You got the upper east side and the lower west side. Gettin' the picture yet? Greasers are facing social prejudice from the rich; segregated from certain residencies, wealthy brats jumping them, and the cops playing for the highest bidder. King Cole don't care. Leader of the socially deemed delinquents, Cole discovers a pretty little chick crashing one of their local diners. Though street rules say never to mix and stick to their own kind, Cole never played fair to begin with.
Sweet Like Honey: This was the lifestyle, wasn't it? Being surrounded by the blinding lights of that infamous Hollywood sign. The pretty, perfect people and even the dirty grim that managed to plaster itself all over the bottoms of her stilettos. She was chasing a pipe-dream, one that every other eighteen year old girl from a quiet town wished to catch. She wanted to be a star, and in these streets, she needed to work herself up the food-chain. He was a nice man, chubby with a red flushed nose, the proof of his binge on whiskey. He had promised her the world, and being far too naive for her own good, she found herself settled on a couch. A casting call, he mentioned, for a movie that she would be perfect in. The interview was going great, specifically due to the fact that the man standing behind the camera, was quite the looker. Growing comfortable, she even managed to loosen the tension in her shoulders. That was, however, until he told her to take her clothes off. Was this some kind of joke? But he seemed so casual...as if he had done this a thousand times before. However, she managed to pique his interest and instead of sitting back and watching, he took it upon himself to help her.
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