The Birth of Merciful Death, The year is 1791 . . .

[Louis]

The bar smelled of smoke and sweat. Louis sat back in the wooden chair limply, looking to his oppenent to make his move. He glanced down at the cards in his hand; the black numbers blurred before his drunken gaze. The man across from him laid his cards on the table, revealing a flush. He sat back in his chair, grinning, his hand reaching out for the money. Louis set his own cards down and took the money from under his oppenent's hand, his cards laid out before him in a straight flush. The man's grin faded.

"You cheated!" he hissed, his own drunkeness coming through in the slurred words. Louis only waved his hand, shoving the money carelessly into the pocket of his black breeches. The man leapt from his chair, his towering height casting a shadow over Louis. "Cheat!"

Louis looked up calmly at this man, his gaze slightly unfocused. "No," he said simply, his hands on the table. He rose and the man lunged forward and grabbed his loose shirt, pulling him forward. "Thief!" he growled. "You're no better than a thief!" The bar went quiet and Louis only stood in this man's grasp.

"I did not cheat," he said quietly, shaking himself from the man's grasp. His head swam with the choking stench of the bar. He had to leave. "Pardonez-moi," he said, and tried to step past the man. "No!" the man shouted, grabbing him from the back. Louis whirled around, his hand fisted, and struck the man across the side of his face. His hand throbbed, but the man staggered away from him, his mouth open. He reached up and touched his lip with the tips of his fingers. "Bastard!" he snarled, and lunged at Louis. He missed and fell across the table heavily, the alcohol hindering even his most basic motor skills. Louis spared the man one last glance and left the bar, avoiding the appraising gaze of the other gamblers.

He took a deep breath of the warm New Orleans air, purging his lungs of the stale bar atmosphere. He could forget the reality of his life in the loud bar, but now everything came rushing back. "Paul," he whispered, his voice catching. He walked along the side of the road, heading to the docks. He stumbled suddenly, his feet tangling under him. He muttered some invective, upset with himself for his lack of self-possession when drunk. He shook himself, groaning. The rain started to come, the light sprinkle icing his long, unkempt black waves. He looked up at the sky. The rain hit his face and he closed his eyes, standing motionless in front of the docks. Please let it end, he thought. Please! Give me the courage to escape this pain.

[Amant]

ooc;; Squee! <333
I give you hearts for that intro.
It was good.
^_____^
I will indeed respond!
I can not as of now, far too busy offline.
Sorry love.
And I do have one question...
Is this before Louis was turned?
Or after?
*is rather braindead and tired right now*
x__________x'

[Louis]

Ooc: Hehe, thank you. ^^ This is before Louis was turned. He's mourning the death of Paul, currently. I look forward to your reply!