#t: thread001

[tobebittenlikeahavensdale]

Cristina smirked, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing grin as she nodded. Of course, he’d agree with her. It wasn’t like his dearest daddy ever would. Rules—ugh, who actually liked them? Certainly not her. Rules were for people too dull or too scared to make their own. But Cristina had learned the art of playing nice when it suited her. That lesson had been drilled into her long before she ever tasted freedom, back when her own father wielded authority like a weapon—sometimes quite literally.

She ran her fingers absentmindedly over her arm, as if tracing the ghost of an old bruise, and her smirk grew darker. Perhaps her father had taught her to behave, in his twisted way, with his lectures and the sting of his belt. But he’d never considered how a caged dog might turn rabid. May he rest in pieces. The memory brought a flicker of satisfaction to her amber eyes.

After all, Daddy dearest had been her very first kill, the baptism of blood that set her on the path she walked now. There had been no suspicion, no investigations, no accusations—not for her. She was dead, after all, buried in name if not in body. And who in their right mind would accuse the dead of murder? If anything, they’d think someone was trying to frame her memory, tarnish the pristine tragedy of her fabricated demise. It was almost poetic, really, how she’d slipped so cleanly out of one life and into another.

“Nah, I’ll manage,” she said, brushing off the offer with a sigh. She stretched her arms lazily, but her sharp gaze betrayed the wheels turning in her mind. The last thing she wanted was to end up on Engel’s bad side—again. That wasn’t a line she could afford to cross tonight. The curfew wasn’t over yet, and she didn’t plan on tempting fate.

But then again...humans had accidents all the time, didn’t they? They wandered too far, stumbled into the wrong alleyways, and found themselves at the mercy of fate—or something far hungrier. And if she just happened to stumble upon a freshly expired corpse, warm and bleeding out, was that really her fault? Could Engel truly blame her for taking advantage of such a fortuitous find?

Her smirk returned, sharper now, with the glint of fangs just barely visible. No, she wouldn’t be the one to break curfew. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t savor the opportunity if it presented itself. After all, Cristina had never been one to let good fortune go to waste.

Chris was endlessly amused even when she was mocking him. Funny thing was, he'd really mean it. It was a beautiful day. This new Havensdale made it easier than ever for him to soothe his boredom, a side effect of the emptiness his lack of humanity brought. Cristina Calero was so interesting to him. A history bloodier than most. In truth, he was a fan.

"Oh, you know I agree," he grinned back, flashing fangs. "Daddy wouldn't be very happy about it though-," meaning Edward, of course- "Hunting before curfew and all. It is against the rules." Chris had always taken them with a pinch of salt, mind you. A slap on the wrist from his pseudo-father was worth it for a little fun.

"Saying that..." he started, tapping his ear lobe for her to listen... A couple, maybe? Out in the Valley woods. Human. "I won't tell if you won't?"