You're brought into Toronto, Canada, either ordered by the Council to join the Pack or Clan that resides there for the impending war, to strengthen their numbers, and provide a hand within the war, or you've moved here simply to find a fresher start to life. Will you stand on the sidelines in the Neutral Territories? Or will you decide to take part and choose a side? Your destiny awaits you, make sure to head over to our homesite (link found in the Navigation Section) to begin your journey!
Vivian's room is fairly large due to her dislike of small spaces. The design is modern and simplistic, with minimal furniture apart from her bed, dresser, and a bookcase on which she keeps her favorite novels, a few medical tombs, and various bobbles that she's acquired. There are a few plants here and there that (of course) don't require much sunlight to remain healthy, and the windows are usually covered with drapes matching the color of her pillows. Really the only sign that the room is occupied are the dozens upon dozens of drawings that cover the previously blank far wall - charcoal sketches ranging from rough to detailed, of anything from people she's encountered to places she's been. It is apparent that she'll have to pick another wall to hang her drawings, soon, since the current one is running out of space.
She furrows her brows as his position abruptly changes, his easy expression gone as he turns around and adopts what she thought to be a contemplative stance. Apparently, he was perceptive enough to notice her shift in attitude, but since he didn't call her out on it she pushes it to the back of her mind. It didn't matter. Tugging her hair over her shoulder, she begins to braid it in the hopes that keeping her hands busy would serve as a distraction from her growing exasperation. The grin - seemed a bit false, actually - soon returns to his face, though, and as he starts to walk around the room she leans further into the cushions of the couch. It was obvious to her that he saw her as a puzzle, of sorts, and she suspected that if he lost interest she'd be left alone.
"I-" She breaks off to clear her throat when the syllable comes out as a croak. "I heal." She could fight too, of course, but she thought that maybe something like medicines would come off as unimpressive. Or, at least, would lead one to believe that since she cared for injuries she was no good at inflicting them.The ginger is distracted, however, by sudden movement from the kitchen; what sounded like a knife embedding itself into the wall followed by an outburst by the young girl from before. She can't help but grimace, just a bit - not that she had a problem with more...expressive people, she just didn't see the need for unnecessary volume.
Rising from her seat, she pads across the hardwood floor to where her suitcase sat, brushing past Jackal with what she thought was a generally friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'll be going upstairs now." Despite the nonchalance of her words, her face was almost comical; the most expressive she had been thus far, with the obvious downturn of her lips and furrowing of her brows, her entire being practically radiated the sentiment that 'this situation is troublesome'. It actually seemed like she was retreating more out of a dislike of speaking rather than a dislike of giving out information. With a small wave, she grabs the handle of her luggage and begins to carry it up the stairs, quiet voice rasping out a "It was nice speaking with you." Before she vanishes upstairs.
When he chuckles, she draws her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her cheek on her knees. It was small movements like these that she favored; body language that practically screamed I'm weak willed, I'm nervous, not a threat. Don't mind me. Whether it be crossing her arms over her chest or 'unconsciously' ducking her head, she had done things like this for so long that it was second nature. She had learned a long time ago that underestimation was one of the strongest weapons she could hold, and nothing caused it quite like body language.
Eyes shifting away from him, her gaze wanders around the room, fingers playing with a loose strand on her jeans. She could feel his attention on her, but she doesn't let it bother her too much. "Oh, don't be like that darling, come now, we'll start nice and easy. How about your name?" When he turns his head, she meets his gaze, though her own was too unfocused to be considered challenging. "Mine's Jackal." The vampire didn't really see what harm could come from a name, so there isn't much hesitation before her answer. "Vivian." He looks away again, and she looks out the window as well. "I must say, this is probably the nicest interrogation I've ever been in." She considers adding a stutter in to reinforce the idea of being non-threatening, but she decides against it. Despite the thought that goes into her every move, though, everything that passes her lips and every shift of her limbs seemed completely natural.
Ah, it was a rare soul that could see through her layers. Sometimes she herself wondered what she was hiding.
Vivian steps quietly into the lounge, lips twisted downwards as she glances over at the man. She didn't really know what to make of him so far; he was obviously confident if not arrogant, and seemed to not have any trouble voicing his opinion...which is why his tone of voice now threw her off a bit. Not to mention she had been hoping to get by without drawing attention to herself; socializing and people in general were troublesome, for lack of a better word. She honestly had no idea why he was even a little bit curious in her, and half hoped that he lost interest. Suppressing another sigh, she drifts over to one of the sofas facing him - she could see him, at least, but was still far enough away to remain comfortable.
"I didn't think we had anything to...chat about." Her voice is quiet, and she grimaces - raspy as usual, from both disuse and vocal damage. Ah, well, she was audible at least. "Do you need something?" She highly doubted it, but business and favors were easy to handle - at least there was a set goal, there, unlike this. Small talk? Interrogation? Hm.
Vivian could hear movement upstairs, probably the others getting settled in. She should follow their example, if only for something to do; claiming a room and unpacking would at least take up some of her time. Then afterwards she could go to town for a meal, or see if there was anything of interest in the surrounding woods. Absently running a hand through her hair, she nods to herself. At least it would keep the boredom threatening to creep in at bay. She just had to go to the lounge and grab her suitcase before going upstairs.
Before she walks into the other room, she pauses when the male - she couldn't quite recall his name, she didn't remember it being spoken yet - speaks up, addressing her. She can't really help but wonder why, since she was pretty sure they had nothing to talk about. Well, ignoring him would be rude, and she was already heading into the lounge anyways, so...with a small sigh, she continues on her way.
She doesn't react much when another with long red hair stands beside her. She very obviously didn't mean her any harm, so there wasn't any need to move away from her or anything like that. She instead listens to the girl's (Crystal's) story, nose wrinkling a bit at the mention of the Council - she hadn't exactly had pleasant experiences with them (or at least, one of them) after all. About to turn and leave, as it appeared that violence weren't about to break out, she pauses when she hears a snarl humming threateningly in the chest of the woman next to her (Dru). She doesn't pause out of fear though, since it wasn't directed at her (even if it had been, she probably wouldn't have reacted too much anyways) but rather out of mild concern. The majority of everyone was taking the whole thing pretty calmly, all things considered, even the girl with the knife at her throat. So, when the woman (Dru) began to display visible signs of aggression - maybe she was just protective? - she lightly touches her shoulder to get her attention and furrows her brows in a silent question. Are you okay?
Well, maybe she wasn't perfectly clear, but she did hope the message got across. She wasn't very fond of speaking, and charades definitely wasn't worth the effort. Only half of her attention remains on the quickly dispersing scene; Xalia putting the knife down and telling the intruders to cook, Jackal exiting the room soon after her. For a moment she contemplates the glare that the short-haired woman (Crystal) had sent her way, but figured it was more out of annoyance than any tangible anger, and therefore nothing to worry about.
OOC: Vivian makin friends. Er...well...something like that Cx Addressed: Dru Riley
Vivian walks silently into the kitchen, leaning inconspicuously against a counter as she glances about. Xalia had a knife to some vampire's throat, lips peeled back in a clear display of annoyance if not anger. She's rather pretty, Is her first thought, though it is with the same tone one might say the sky is blue or Earth revolves around the Sun. It held no personal inflection, it just was. In fact, her entire countenance was notably distant; she looked on as if it were a scene from a movie - she registers what is happening, analyzes and works through it, but also acknowledges that it doesn't particularly affect her in the grand scheme of things.
Absently the vampire pushes a strand of hair out of her face, eyes drifting aimlessly about the room; she didn't need to look at them to know what was going on. Maybe she pauses a beat when Jackal comes into her line of vision - he was curious, merely because she had heard him speak with some stranger outside - but it lasts only a moment before she loses interest and draws her attention back to Xalia and the two other females. Hm, looked like they were going (trying) to cook something; maybe she should get something to eat as well. Not from here, though; once she was settled in maybe there'd be someone taking the long route home that she could catch unawares. Hmm... Her tongue glides over her fangs, cloudy blue eyes staring at nothing and everything all at once.
As she approaches the house, Vivian takes the time to look around - the place certainly seemed welcoming, lights glowing warmly from the inside, and she could see herself making a home here. It couldn't be terrible, at least. Even better, though, was the expanse of woods she could see surrounding a good portion of the house. The scent of herbs, both familiar and calming, brush against her senses, and she lets a small smile curve her lips. If there was one thing that never failed to bring her down to earth, so to speak, it was healing, if only because it required care and concentration that some others found useless. Carrying her suitcase up the front porch steps, she listens to Xalia's hissing voice from inside with only mild disconcertion.
After all, the chances of any intruder overpowering her are remarkably slim. Otherwise, she wouldn't be clan leader.
Stepping inside the ajar door, she shuts it behind her (though leaves it unlocked, for others who may show up) and walks inside, placing her suitcase somewhere it wouldn't get in the way as she paces, cat-footed, into the kitchen. She didn't particularly care about the current going-ons, but it was where others were headed - even if she had no interest in interfering, it still payed to know what was going on.
It was interesting, watching them all interact. Even if they didn't speak, the way these people looked around, lounged, or fidgeted gave slight hints as to what they were thinking. She is pleased that not much attention is payed to her; she never had been fond of the 'spotlight', though she didn't know if it was from habit or just personal preference. Anyhow, she could see herself getting along with them, even if there were a few bumps along the way - which was to be expected. Not even vampires were perfect.
She lets a state of relaxation come over her; she was listening, yes, but tension didn't keep her muscles tight as it usually did. Actually, it was kind of calming to hear the steady drone of miscellaneous humans speaking about whatever it is they deemed important - a welcome distraction, even if she did keep half her attention on the party she was sitting with. Her full attention is drawn to Xalia, however, when she is addressed; a small nod is her response as she rises and grips the handle of her suitcase. Walking outside, she simply follows the others to where she assumed she would be staying.
//Exit to Front Porch\\
OOC: Short, but I just want to catch her up with everyone else.
Vivian steps off of the bus, fingers wrapped around the handle of her suitcase as she takes a moment to gather her bearings. Anything she might have needed had been provided for her - clothing, money, passports - so it was no wonder that it had been so easy to get here. Well, she was supposed to have arrived seventeen years ago, but that was a technicality that she doubted anyone cared for. I wonder how infuriated the Man would be... Her lips quirk upwards in what might have been a smile.
She had assumed she would have to travel further to a house of sorts, but it would seem that the majority of vampires in Toronto were gathered inside a bar and grill - scent didn't lie, after all. They didn't stink, per se, but vampires definitely smelled different than humans in that they weren't appetizing, and- wait, was there a werewolf in there as well? Her fingers tighten imperceptibly around the handle of her suitcase even as she begins to walk towards the bar. She wasn't frightened of werewolves, nor did she ever feel any overwhelmingly strong urges to fight any, but they were still what her kind was supposed to be at war with. She couldn't just not acknowledge that there was a probably enemy nearby, even if she disliked fighting. But, well, if the sizable group of vampires inside weren't taking action, then action wasn't needed. With the usual air of disconnect about her, Vivian pushes open the door.
It was too easy to identify who was who, what with the way everything was laced out. There was the wolf, separated from the group of vampires but very obviously not human; the scent was all wrong. Then, of course, there were the vampires, all conveniently together and easily recognizable what with their too-graceful movements and such. One among them, a beautiful female with slightly curled brown hair, had an air of confidence and ease about her that suggested control - it wasn't hard to guess that she must be Xalia. However, she seemed to be conversing with a male, and it certainly wasn't Vivian's desire to interrupt. In fact, if she had it her way she wouldn't speak at all - she wasn't ashamed of her damaged voice, but still she preferred to listen to others rather than to speak.
Approaching the group, she sets her suitcase off to the side and out of the way, pulling up a chair and taking a seat among them without uttering a word. If she was addressed, she would identify herself, but otherwise didn't wish to voice her thoughts. After a moment of studying the assortment of people gathered, her eyes become unfocused as her mind drifts to the herbs and medicines she had so painstakingly packed. Even if she wasn't chosen for the position she wished, she still wanted to continue her research.
Get better Zoe 
