<div class="floatleft">(http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn313/NovemberWerewolf/Female%20Characters/Lady_in_black_by_Drakevensia.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Asaria Lao<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Frozen Hearth<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Evening, after sunset<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Gormr, Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>She chose flight.<br/><br/>On instinct Asaria knew that she was a danger to this man; that if she allowed the time near him to drag along, she would find her willpower lacking and her demons in control. It was more than self preservation that made her wish to spare the man’s throat; he didn’t deserve to be accosted in such a way, especially after the journey he seemed to have gone through. This nord Gormr was far from her usual pickings as well; less of a blood thirsty murderer and more like a man looking to survive. It was decided then; as soon as he turned his back she would grab her things and flee, regretting the absence yet knowing it was for the best. Perhaps she will simply finish her project and leave the city, stay away from the populated roads and inns for a while and look for a bandit camp… perhaps…<br/><br/>Perhaps the gods wished to punish her with bad luck? Perhaps this was a test to weigh her worth? Violence had a smell to it before it erupted; like fresh rain on hot stone, it called to her primal senses and had her eye locked onto the scene just as it was ready to develop. Quick blows, savage impact, more sound than words in exchange. A tavern brawl was far from foreign in Skyrim; it was like breaking fast every morning. People circled to enjoy the sport, the quickest making bets before the advantages could truly show themselves, and while others were cheering and heckling, Asaria felt her jaw ache in response to the perfume that teased the air.<br/><br/>Blood.<em>The gods surely test me,</em>she thought to herself, trying to swallow down the building panic that clenched her guts and caused her fangs to throb in her mouth. The vampire clenched her jaw until it brought tears to her eyes, and quickly discovered that she was panting and sitting down in her chair again, her ivory sculpture turned to dust from the strength of her fist around its ruined form. There was a window of opportunity still; the nord had won his battle, facing the bar in order to acquire their drinks. But she found that she couldn’t move, that her body refused to listen to her demands and instead were fueled by her needs. Time slowed until every heartbeat in the room echoed in her ears and stole her attention, until finally the vampire swallowed and was forced into the decision.<br/><br/>Better Gormr than some helpless sap simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.<em>Like him?</em>Better Gormr, than a frail elder who would wither away with this chill and their blood loss… Better than a child. Better than a guard. Better than a rat…<br/><br/>The nord set their drinks down; oblivious to the danger he was in. With a slow smile that curled her full lips upwards and favored one side, Asaria leaned forward all the while screaming silently inside her head for her demons to release their hold so that she might stop. “Do you do everything with such… precision?” The vampire licked her lips slowly, fangs back under control now that her instincts knew that she was finally on the hunt.