The Ministry formally advises that all contact with muggles and their world be kept to a minimum. Muggles are an admittedly useless creature, far inferior to our abilities and knowledge. The Ministry advises those who have made it clear they are blood traitors are not to be reckoned with or kept informed of the goings on within our world as they have made their choice.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Citlali's hand on his arm was warm. Damien let out a small sound of regret when she removed it, but answered her question with a flair of braggadocio. "I'm just naturally interesting...magnetic, even." He tipped her a wink and a grin, then watched her pull away towards Everett. With a dramatic turn, Damien spun and started walking backwards, eye on Everett and Citlali's affections to each other. He still had the smirk plastered on his face. Dark eyes were glittering in the streetlights as he flicked his attention over them, then over his shoulder to keep walking straight.

"No fair, flirting when you don't translate. So...Neither of you are from England...what brings you here?"

When in doubt, conversation. It was an art as much as a craft, but it was something that he was well practiced in since he dealt with people often. Everett was taller, like most men were compared to Damien, broad in the shoulder with gorgeous eyes...and that jawline? Mmm. Half Veela affections ahoy. And then Citlali was dark in hair, eye, skin...Damien was drawn to her for some reason, and it may have been her mystery with that knowing and enigmatic gaze. The art of her scarification drew him as well. He spun back to walk forward instead of backwards and began to sing under his breath, not caring if the charm of what he was leaked through or not.
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by: Everett Cooper
Was Citlali… purring? Hot damn, that was sexy. He had forgotten just how enjoyable that sound was from the first time they had met, but he’d be damned if it wasn’t just as enticing as it had been then too. Almost enough to make him lose track of what the Nagual was saying when he joined them, but Ev quickly focused and brought his mind back to the present conversation while they walked. Not human? Well, Damien did have an odd natural scent but there was a distinctly human smell to him mixed with the ‘other’. Could he be a half-human possibly? He didn’t even know enough about the magical world to know if other races could breed with humans; hell, he didn’t even know any other races except the few he had encountered underground in the City of Shadows. The singer’s scent certainly didn’t match any scent he had encountered before, that was certain at least.

Despite Damien pulling ahead presumably to tease them with the view, Ev smiled benignly back at Citlali and leaned down to murmur his response in her ear, nipping it lightly for good measure. “Sí, pero al menos es parte humano. Lo que sea que él sea no es completamente 'otro'.” The soldier nuzzled her jaw in return, keeping up the charade to hide their conversation even though it appeared Damien didn’t speak Spanish anyway. Ah well; couldn’t be too safe.

Straightening up again Ev draped his arm around Citlali’s waist easily and guided them down the block to the left once they reached the corner. He chuckled at Damien’s question however. Wasn’t like he was really ready for that story, the little songbird. “I’m actually over here to learn a trade, songbird,” Ev drawled, eagerly watching the movements of the lithe singer in front of them. “Blacksmithing, to be exact. Retired from the Navy and needed a new project.”

(Yeah, but he's at least part human. Whatever he is isn't completely 'other'.)
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by: Citlali Separa
Citlali nodded at Everett’s statement with ease. No, whatever the male was, he was certainly a hybrid of something. Potentially making him less dangerous if he was at all. Another loud purr escaped her at Ev’s nuzzle and she leaned into him more with delight, letting him lead her body while she did a little more silent investigation on their companion. Her eyes locked on the singer as he hummed, his spirit dancing and shifting with the slight personal music. She frowned a bit and glanced to Po who prodded Damien’s spirit again then shot away when his attempted to attach. Po shot around in panic, zinging past her head so fast she jerked to stare after them. The imp cackled at Po’s distress and jumped after the singer instead much to Citlali’s silent dismay.

The small spirit jumped after the singer, latching onto his spirit just as the musical spirit latched onto the imp. The priestess would have frozen completely if Ev wasn’t leading her along. She was lucky to be leaning on him when she was this far gone in the spirit realm. Focusing her dark eyes again on the combined spirits she watched the interaction in middle fascinated horror. It was not unlike an exchange. Not unhealthy like a parasite but Damien’s spirit was needing something. But whatever it was the imp didn’t seem to be supplying it. Another curious frown graced her features.

What a strange being. His spirit was wholly his but required something from others. The small bit of music he had let slip out of himself just now had even been different than the music he had sang in the club. His spirit shifted. Spirits didn’t just change so easily. The nagual puzzled over it as she continued her hard but vacant stare at the younger male, not hearing any of the exchange between the two men.
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by: Damien LeMarch
”Blacksmithing? No wonder you’re so muscular then...And I’ll try not to make a joke about...about seamen...”

What the hell was happening? Damien had trailed off and brought his free hand to his chest. His heart was pounding and he felt, was odd. He felt good, like his Lure had connected with someone, but there was still the empty feeling of not having connected, which meant...oh, shit...he was gonna fall into his own storm in a second, wasn’t he? Sure enough, the storm brewed quickly and swamped him, causing a sudden but subtle shift in the singer.

His shoulders slumped into a boneless, relaxed state, his scent shifted to something sweeter and more floral rather than his more citric spice scent, and the scent of ‘otherness’ overwhelmed Damien. He paused and let his two partners catch up with him before tucking himself into Everett’s free shoulder. While Damien’s fire and spunk was still present, a submissive, graceful patina of otherness had covered his actions.
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by: Everett Cooper
Hot damn. That purring was definitely gonna be the end of him. And her almost feverishly warm body pressed up against his side like that? So nice… He had forgotten how nice it had felt to have someone so warm in his arms; after all, it had been nearly a month since he had had any contact at all with the Nagual woman. Not that having Alasdair in his arms during that month wasn’t nice or anything, but Citlali’s warmth was far warmer than his human boyfriend and that was just a fact. Warmth was something Everett had noticed he seemed to crave more now as a vampire than he had when he was still just human, he supposed because he had little body heat of his own anymore. It was just… comforting.

When Citlali’s breathing and heart rate both slowed, he glanced down at her in concern briefly but didn’t see anything immediately to blame. Although… now that he thought about it, her heart rate and breathing had done something similar the first time they had met as well. What had she said about what she was doing before? Something to do with spirits and hunting and looking, if he remembered correctly, which honestly he was willing to doubt considering how hungry he had been at the time and what had happened afterward. But even still, the Nagual didn’t seem to be in any danger and her body was certainly more ‘relaxed’ than ‘distressed’, so Ev simply nuzzled her hair again and whispered her name under his breath so that only she would hear him…

… just in time for Damien’s pulse to spike and his scent to shift into something between panic and confusion. Sonuvabitch... What the hell was going on here, dammit? This was distinctly NOT what he had signed up for when he had invited both of them back to his apartment, nor was he at all equipped to deal with this crisis currently. One potential partner chill as fuck and barely walking on her own, and the other ramped up and smelling like arousal and magic and clingy as hell; what the shit had he gotten himself into now?

Ev firmly wrapped his other arm around Damien when the singer tucked himself against the vampire’s left side and leaned down to nuzzle him gently. “The muscles are from bein’ a soldier, songbird,” he tried to coax the singer back to reality with continuing their conversation. “And if you’ve got jokes, be my guest. If y’all’ve got one I haven’t heard before, I’ll be right impressed.”

As they drew up to the door to his walk-up, Ev gently leaned Damien against his side and carefully maneuvered his keys out of his pocket and into the door to unlock it. Once inside he carefully led them both up to the second floor and into his modest one bedroom apartment. The furnishings were probably best described as ‘post-college bachelor’ but it was cozy and comfortable and nothing was falling apart, so Ev considered it just fine. A large suede sectional dominated one corner of the kitchen-dining-living room area with an equally large television and gaming console, while on the other side of the room under the large bay window seat were his two guitars and some papers and sheet music strewn across the dining table. A door on the right wall next to the TV presumably led to the bedroom and bathroom but was left only slightly ajar. “Home sweet home, y’all,” he chuckled as he carefully sat Damien and Citlali on the couch.
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by: Citlali Separa
A cycle. Citlali had never seen a spirit try to devour itself. Whatever it was that Damien was and whatever he needed the imp just didn’t have it. So instead it looking like some horrific ouroboros of a starved spirit as Damien’s folded into itself searching for something. If she had been younger, less trained in the horrors that could occur in the spirit realm Citlali would have propelled herself back to her body to scream her terror out. Instead a low growl escaped as she set to work. The Nagual pulled imp away as gently as she could, flinging the annoying spirit away with distaste. Her dark eyes assessed the younger man carefully not certain how to safely extract him from the cycle before a whisper brushed through her mind.


The whisper had her hair standing on end and gooseflesh raising from hairline to toe. A lash of confusion washed through her then. Why would anyone be calling her? What had she been doing before this? Oh. Oh, right. She had been flirting and on her way home with someone. Two someones. Right. The vampire and whatever this man was. She should be focusing on that. The whisper of her name rang again causing her to shiver. That was Everett’s voice. The man that had specifically wooed her with music, wanted to be with her again despite their strange and slightly tumultuous first meeting. And Citlali was… excited about seeing him again? Her own conflicting and odd feelings were starting to obscure the spirit realm around her. She needed to focus then she could return the waking world. But first she had to make sure the smaller man would be okay. With a little prodding, Po finally returned setting to soothe and ease back whatever the maelstrom of emotions that imp had pulled from the man. They remained but at least it didn’t look like he might drown in them now.

Pulling back slowly, she let out a shaky breath and looked around their new settings. Citlali wasn’t sure what she had expected when coming to Ev’s apartment but it wasn’t this. It was clean and very homey. It was comforting in a way. She smiled briefly at that, ”This is lovely, Everett,” she said, looking around. Damien seemed out of it still so Citlali draped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him towards her and kissing his temple. She murmured nonsense compliments to him in Spanish, trying to get his attention before she was willing to breach the subject of what each of them were. Then they could continue the night as intended.

”Damien,” she breathed in his ear, accent rolling over the name, ”Focus, por favor.”
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by: Damien LeMarch
Soldier. Right...Damien gave Everett a dopey, innocent smile as he leaned into the man’s cool embrace. With one hand, he held his guitar case, the other wandered over his...his...What’s was Everett to him, and Citlali?...night time rendezvous romance was a mouthful, lovers was a prediction, though a solid one, dates implied something more romantic and planned than a sexual tousle, and partners implied something lasting, thanks.

As his fingertips danced across Ev’s shoulders with an exploratory curiosity, Damien basked in the absent, directionless wash of the Lure. Typically, it created an obsessive focus and adoration for the target. When he was his own target, it left his mind and focus unshackled from time in an amorphous, dreamy state that reminded him of peyote. He felt incredibly peaceful, happy, and permissive. What may have been deviant or rejected not even five minutes ago was now open for debate and consideration, ready to be ratified into action without more thought than what it would take to achieve. The singer leaned his head back into Everett’s shoulder to look up at the taller man.

”Navy...been across the globe...ex-o-tic...I’m gonna tour internationally someday. Sold out crowds in venues across the world...Vegas, New York, Russia...”

A half cocked grin graced Damien’s face as he realized he was doing the bragging thing. Many of his past lured rendezvous’ had bragged to him about achievements or people they knew or money they had. Often, it was a lie, but you could usually tell someone’s ambitions by brow they spoke under the Lure. Usually, it was just to get attention, but here he was telling this basic stranger about his secret dreams...crazy.

The walk and approach to the apartment was a happy blur of blended scenes and words. They were, in a word, incinsequential. The important this was he could feel Everett. The man’s heart beat was so faint that Damien couldn’t feel THAT about him, but the half veela was compromised right now, so that’s wasn’t a serious much a concern as the overwhelming need to just get naked already. The cool bite of the night air reminded Damien that the summer stars were out and as eager to sing as he was too bad, then, that forces conspired to keep the singer’s clothing on. The first conspirator was his guitar. He had to hold it until the trio got inside. Once they were, though, Citlali was on the couch beside him and holding his focus. With a purring, warm (so warm! Especially compared to Everett!), affectionate woman in his arms, it was all he could do to struggle through coherent eye contact. He wanted to just roll back and let her have her way, but she was calling him to focus on the present. It was in just this conflict he found himself coming back to coherency and out of the Lure: Head back with his throat fully exposed, humming and murmuring lyrics to songs not written yet, hands roaming Citlali like civil engineers drafting a topographical map, and skin flushed with pleasure. The singer fluttered back slowly, eyes losing the dreamy look before his mind started slowly sobering.
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