roleplay ideas?

I'll draw up a brief form for my vampire, and you can do the same if you want~

Lesath 'Lex' Mavrokara. 18. Pureblood

× Tall and lithely muscled. Incredibly pale skin. Two beauty marks under his left eye. Upturned eyes of dual colors; golden with turquoise starbursts around his pupils. They become red when he's thirsty. Inky hair that falls down his back either in a braid or ponytail, always kept neat with golden clasps that are decorated with blue spinel. Well-dressed no matter the occasion, although he wears boots rather than loafers and white gloves when 'working'. Carries a number of blades both metal and wooden, the majority of which are hidden. Lesath also wears gauntlets that fire poisoned wooden darts. His expressions are usually unreadable, as he doesn't emote much. His voice is surprisingly gentle and sweet-sounding; he never raises it. In anger it simply becomes lower and softer.

---

If he turns it over and squints at it side-ways, this situation could actually be glimpsed in a positive light. So, the intel was bad and Theta is a traitor. At least now they know for certain rather than circling her with suspicion. He's reasonably certain that his little brother escaped the ambush unscathed, and his cousin revealed herself to possible collusion with humans by leaving him in the ruins of a city that they're known to scamper around in. It's unlikely that she would have gotten so far uncontested otherwise. This is valuable information to be relayed to the rest of his Clan...yet it also reveals the extent of the danger he's in. If she has worked out some sort of deal, then it's likely that she's sent her lapdogs in to finish him off. Even this location, found under much duress, isn't safe. 

He has to move...he can't move. 

Lesath's breath hitches as he carefully moves his shattered leg away from the beams of sunlight streaming in through cracked windows. While prepared for an assault of some kind, he truly hadn't anticipated a sniper taking out his leg first. It's been nearly obliterated by the high-powered round that tore through it, healing sluggishly under the light of the midday sun. The feverish heat that's taken over his shaking body suggests that the first stake to hit him was made of hawthorn, hindering his healing ability.

He may have been able to recover sooner if he hadn't been forced to put all his efforts into rebuilding the upper half of his body. Tsk.

He can't tell if he'd gotten sloppy or if Theta was just that much more well-prepared. She'd calculated everything perfectly, and knows him well enough to use his one weakness against him. His sharp teeth grit in a silent snarl as he tilts his head back and knocks it against the wall. 'Idiot.'

Miscalculating the strength used in the simple movement, Lesath stills when the plaster behind him cracks and the sound echoes eerily through the decimated restaurant. "I might as well make this worse." He sighs, refraining from knocking more sense into his head. It clearly didn't help the first time.

The pizzeria that he's turned into a bolthole had seen damage from some long ago skirmish but doesn't have enough in the way of supplies to become a target for scavengers. Unfortunately, however, it faces the street and he hadn't managed to drag himself far enough inside to remain undetected. Black blood sprinkles the tiles and broken glass, leading in a wavering line to the counter that he's taken cover behind. He could hear movement outside for some time now, a single person moving at an unhurried pace. 

All he can taste is ash, but he knows from the way they move that it's a lone human unburdened by heavy weaponry. Possibly unrelated to his current predicament, but he's certainly not going to let himself be caught off-guard a second time. One more failure and the only reason he'd be seeking his brother out is to name him kaishakunin.

When they heard him, the human bolted into the barber shop next door and waited for further movement. Prey behavior. Still, he locks his jaw and presses his back to the wall, bracing against it as he slowly levers himself up to stand on his good leg. Pain lances through him and black spots cut into his blurred vision, weakened by the sun- but Lesath forces himself to move with the wall as his crutch, limping further into the building. He needs to find somewhere from which he can both strike and retreat- Lesath pauses when he comes across a splintering door in the hall leading to the kitchen.

It seems that the two businesses were connected...he can smell the human on the other side. Enemy or not, he needs blood to heal. Lesath weighs his options, an unsteady hand brushing the hilt of the dagger strapped to his thigh. 

"A hunter?" She repeated, the way she shaped the word suggesting that she isn't unfamiliar with the term. Perhaps loosely affiliated with one or two. Something about her demeanor suggests that she doesn't consider herself one however. Well, that and the fact that she didn't unload her gun into him as soon as he stopped moving. Her posture gives the impression that this is a stand-off, one in which both sides have something to lose by engaging...and this is likely true even with a gun aimed at his head. She has no way of knowing his pedigree, but the fact that he's active during the day may have clued her in. Even in such dire circumstances, he heals faster than 'common' sanguinaire and he's still capable of killing her despite the severe damage to his body. The human missed her chance to injure him further. Does she believe that she can fire quicker than he can move? Or...is she underestimating him after his failure? Does he no longer register as a threat? The thought burns at him worse than his hawthorn-inflicted wounds.
Lesath is a survivor above all, however. He isn't going to attempt to discount this notion or prove himself worthy of a swift stake to the heart. If her underestimation of him keeps him alive longer, then all the better. He'll just swallow his pride and bury it under a smile like usual.

She doesn't shoot, only levels the gun at him with cool eyes and he can only accept their stalemate with a crooked lift to his lips and roll of a shoulder. Her blue eyes briefly shift away from his, as does her stance. Now would be the perfect time to strike- but Lesath pauses because she does. Here she is, a human faced with her kind's mortal enemy, and yet she...hesitates...to shoot him? Why? It would make sense given his earlier assessment of them being in a stalemate but now he's not so sure...

She has his full attention (in a manner of speaking, he's still closely attuned to their surroundings in case she's a distraction) when she speaks, and he finds his thin brows climbing higher.

'Even if I was, you don't look well enough to put up a decent fight.'

"That stung more than sunlight." Lesath chuckles, although there's a wry twist to his mouth and shadows in his golden gaze. His torn muscles coil to spring but he forces the urge to pass.
He tilts his head as she maneuvers her way out of the straps of her backpack and lets it fall to the floor, idly wondering if there's a stronger weapon she intends to retrieve.

Lesath's unshakeable composure is one of few talents that his family and masters can commend him on. It isn't something that he had to train hard for, as it's a quality that he's always possessed. He's guarded amongst- and against- the malfeasant personalities that make up his Clan. Any displays of weakness or even the mere suggestion that they may have caught him wrong-footed is worthy of punishment. He may not always wear a smile (it feels strange on his face) but he pulls it on reflexively to show that he is unafraid and unaffected by what life throws at him. Life seems very determined to test that assertion as of late. It decides to kick a bag of what he assumes to be valuable supplies at him with an implicit 'your move~'.

Lesath's composure cracks. "....huh? I mean- pardon?"

The smile freezes on his face, now suspended awkwardly as golden eyes widen slightly when he glances from backpack to girl and back again. What...is she getting at? What does she mean? Is there a bomb in her bag? Has she been walking around with a bomb this whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to present it to a vampire? But although stiff, she makes no move to run or find cover.

Lesath's brow furrows as he slowly lowers his hands. "Help...with what?"
Context clues would suggest that she meant to 'help' with his being in 'no condition to put up a fight' but why? She isn't a Hunter, so it couldn't be that she wants the prestige that came with killing a powerful vampire. And her tone suggested that she wasn't keen on making her debut into the field, so- "What do you have to gain?"

Lesath's eyes narrow slightly, golden gaze sweeping the tense human and lingering on her piercing gaze. Her jaw is set and her heartbeat is steady. She's...serious? He can't find any duplicity and that is a skill that he's honed specifically for moments like this. Ah, not moments like this. This is an entirely new scenario that he's never dreamed of encountering. 'Be prepared for anything' usually concerned possibilities that made sense. 

She doesn't speak carelessly, it's apparent that she's considering her every word and coaching her tone to make her intentions clear. Yet he cannot fathom how she thought twice and still landed on...this.

Still on the verge of disbelief, he allows his tense muscles to relax ever so slightly and uses the wall at his back to slowly lower himself onto the dirtied tiles so that his aching body wouldn't have to support itself. There's still the possibility that this is some elaborate scheme to coax him into letting down his guard- he wouldn't put it past his snake of a cousin- so Lesath's strained senses are still attuned to their apparently desolate surroundings, but he believes her when she says she isn't there to fight. He had been the one to hunt and nearly assault her after all. The second statement is harder to make sense of. She has no desire to see him dead or incapacitated? Even without being a Hunter, she still must see him as a human does a vampire? Why shouldn't she? Does she not know that he wouldn't afford her the same courtesy? 

Yet nothing about her suggests that she's under the influence of something that would alter her perception of reality, and he doesn't get the impression that she struggles with any of her mental faculties either. If Lesath were anyone else, he might gape openly, but he only allows himself an expression of mild consternation. So she is aware that he's descended from purer blood...and yet she remains steadfast. He could heal himself and kill her afterward, he could heal himself quicker by skipping a step and drinking her blood- she even slowly lowers her gun- how has she survived this long?!

Very much despite himself, Lesath feels concern flickering within the embers of a warm heart he thought long extinguished. 

She...doesn't like seeing anyone injured? Anyone? In a world like this one, there is an exhausting number of people who deserve worse! 

While self-preservation bids he not jeopardize this golden opportunity, Lesath can't help pushing against the boundaries of her...altruism. "I...appreciate the offer." He tilts his head back with a tired smile, gesturing at the mangled stump of his leg. "But unless you have a blood transfusion or the contents of an ER at hand, I am afraid that only slaking my thirst will heal me. My wounds are too severe." 

He speaks without expecting anything to come of it, already prepared to slide her bag back over and send her on her way. He could muster up the strength to take her blood by force- but for some reason he isn't going to examine too closely, the desire to do so waned in the course of their interaction. Life would correct her eventually. He doesn't need to be the vehicle in which it does so. There is the matter of leaving her alive as a potential witness to his weakness...but the location has already been compromised. He would need to find somewhere else to convalesce regardless. He will simply pull his hood up and travel via the shadows of the buildings and alleyways. It isn't ideal but nothing ever is. At the very least, his little brother will be looking for him. It'd be premature and downright optimistic to count on his aid but it still improves his chances of survival.

She really is mad. The human's breath hitched and her pulse quickened, but none of this showed on her face. There was even a damned challenging glint in her eye! As if she had him! She met his ravenous scarlet eyes steadily, as if ready to die for her foolish beliefs. And she should! She should...but there's a kernel of grudging respect festering within him. There are an unsurprising few who can claim the same or live to tell the story she may have. This whole encounter is ridiculous- He's certainly not sharing it. 

Blue eyes narrow as she delivers her next words, refusing to be cowed. Lesath's brows arch. Good! Good. This is what he's accustomed to, and he meets her fierceness with a minute twitch that wants to be a smile. She has heart! A little too much of it to be safe, but it is a good thing nonetheless. He doesn't like the way she's talking to him, but he'll let it slide.

He tilts his head and laughs- a sound that is soft but cool, detached as if it does not truly come from a place of emotion- "Hahaha~ Sure! I can indeed promise that. Fight me to your last breath, and I'll see you off with honor." Again, it is the least he can do. "I will make you regret ever aiding me~"

"Hm." His own eyes narrow at her flippant tone, pulling her wrist up so that they once again are near face to face. Black hair frames hers, and she meets him unblinkingly. She's tall for a woman, so even though he marks in at 6'2, she doesn't have far to move with his seated position. There's a brief internal deabte before- "Lesath. Not 'vampire'. I will at least afford you the respect of knowing my name."

A respect offered to a select few- he is only ever known by his title outside of the Clan, and often even within the Clan. Names are to be guarded covetously...and yet here he is blurting it out to a no-name human. She isn't even a huntress- but her nonsensical actions have earned his respect, however grudging. She is doing something he could never do, and he must acknowledge that. Had their positions been reversed, Lesath would not have hesitated. Not anymore...

"I'll forgive your impudence in light of our agreement." It sounds a bit too much like grumbling and less dignified than he'd like, so he's quick to distract her by finally parting his jaws.

'Kalí óreksi.'

Lesath raises her wrist to his mouth and turns it over, exposing the rapid beat of her pulse. He can draw blood from anywhere- but points such as this are neater and cause minimal pain. There's a pause as he centers himself, acknowledging the gnawing hunger but not giving in to it. He is a Trueblood; they do not slaver over their meals like mannerless cur. Once he is certain that he can practice restraint, Lesath bows his head to sink his fangs into her pale skin. His scarlet eyes crinkle, half-lidded but flicking to her face as he drinks. He had already known it by scent, but her blood is particularly...delicious. More caution must be practiced to not become carried away. His body demands the lot of it to return to full health- but he drinks in only careful pulls, fingers tightening around her wrist to hold her still. 

The sluggish loss of his ash-like blood had already halted, but now hers begins to cycle through drying veins. The final remnants of numerous fractures in his upper torso begin to mend, and his left leg grows hot as bone and sinew regrow at a swifter pace. Other minor injuries close with more ease- the bullet wound in his right palm and the scrapes on his face and head. Her blood replenishes him, quieting the insistent hunger and acting as a balm to the many aches and pains that clamored for his attention. It would not completely restore him without her death, but he is well enough now to weather the sunlight with more fortitude. Typically the elite sanguinaire required much more blood to function normally, but Lesath has been trained to work with less. 

He finishes with a contented hum, pulling back only slightly to run his tongue over the neat pinpricks in her skin to heal the wounds quicker before he raises his head and leans away. The glow in his eyes has dimmed, but the vibrant gold and azure still have a reddish cast to them. The hunger hasn't completely abated, in fact it's agitated by his insistence on not finishing a willing meal. Lesath licks away traces of blood on his lips whilst using his leverage on her arms to push the human away. It takes a surprising amount of effort not to follow after her.

"Haah." He exhales heavily, lifting a hand to run it through his messy sloe hair. "There. Our oath is sealed. If you can walk, leave now."