<a class="username" data-user-id="641" data-username="@reverse" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/641/">@reverse</a><br/><br/>The city roared with life. Always, forever brimming with warm blood and pulsing rhythms. She had always loved Chicago, had dreamed of going there ever since she was a little girl. Or, rather, a young fledgling still learning the ways about the world. Humans, ever so oblivious to the supernatural around them, danced and swayed to the beat pounding through her club Black Rosé. It was a lively place, with a VIP section closed off from the public, and an underground sex and drug club that drew in quite the population.<br/><br/>No, Kathrienna wasn't above diving into the nefarious and the illegal to keep her business booming. She was beautiful, reaching nearly six feet in her black pumps and a crimson red dress that hugged every single curve. Waves of auburn brown went down to her waist, permed into place, and her emerald eyes were stunning behind her creamy white skin. Her breasts were pushed up with a bra, and her manicured nails wrapped delicately around the wine glass she was currently sipping upon. Blood wine. Food and drink had to be infused with blood in order for her to enjoy it, which was mostly only done for pretenses. Wine, however, was a deep luxury of hers.<br/><br/>She surveyed the crowd, letting her veins fill with the intoxicating stench of sweat and her ears fill with their pounding heartbeats. A thrall lay draped over her parted knee, a willing donor that worshiped the ground she walked upon. She had an abundance of donors, humans that knew what they were but were bound to secrecy at the risk of their own lives. Only the werewolves knew of them, their mortal enemies. Or so the Ancients would have it. Those Ancients that were currently in a deep slumber, including her own sire Mikhail.<br/><br/>But Kathrienna had always had a love for canines, and she'd worked tirelessly over the past decade to forge an alliance with the wolves in her area. There were covens in nearly every big city in the USA, but only she and handful of others had made peace with the wolves. The Alpha had almost seemed begrudging about it, but she had to believe the packs in the are were just as tired of the mindless, endless wars that had waged over the centuries as she was.<br/><br/>She made sure her coven followed her rules, under penalty of death and far less pleasant things. She'd already made examples out of several eccentric vampires, much to her coven's dismay, but they all loved her, and most had stayed during the peace treaty. Her fledgling Jordahn really hated it, but he knew better than to openly oppose her. At least she thought that was the case. He and Thomas both gave their undying loyalty to her. Thomas was her first, and he had all the same morales as she did.<br/><br/>But Jordahn was a spitfire, with his mop of fiery red locks and deep gunmetal gray eyes, and little had she known how openly opposed he'd gotten to her peace treaty.<br/><br/>~~~~<br/><br/>Jordahn hunched over the wolf's throat, tearing into flesh with the sickening crunch of bone and sinew, the throat having been ripped out and blood currently marred his elegant features. The alpha hadn't given a fuck about this wolf, and they were both of the same mind. Wolves and vampires could never work together, even though they were now, if only to break the fragile peace that his sire had fought so hard to create.<br/><br/>Jordahn didn't know of the alpha's underlying reasons, even as the hulking creature loomed over him while he made a mess of his meal. He had always loved the violence that came with feeding, unlike Kathrienna who tended to be a bit more...delicate about it. They were monsters. They should live as such, but she had foolishly kept them in the shadows, and she was going to regret ever doing that.