Vitalè had gone about his day, just as he had every other time. He walked out in the sun, as all others had, he taught his students as all others had, he even took the time to sunbathe. Granted at this point he was doing so for the purpose on not being conspicuous, however he was not getting any tanner. Melatonin had long since ceased production within the Vampire's body, just another reminder of what a broken shell of a man he was. It was days like THAT which spawned nights like this, and on nights like this the most eventful things happened.
Vitalè followed through the streets of New York City, his senses on high alert. He was following the scent of a rather familiar strain. The smell of rot, decay. Not the kind you could cover up with the cheap cologne either. This was not a physiological rot either...this man smelled of death to his very soul. The smell of death itself. He knew it all too well. It was his friend... his care-taker... his maker... the only man he would ever hate. Giovanni. His fangs bore as he sped through the streets, keeping to the shadows. His steps were silent, he scaled walls without sound and leapt form rooftop to rooftop, glaring, eyes scrying for his maker. He found himself stopping dead in his tracks as he found himself looking at the statue of liberty. He lost the scent. He ran his hand through his jet black hair and turned with a feral hiss. He moved to step from the roof, but before he could fall he transformed into a swarm of a dozen or more bats, disappearing.
The bats would swarm the rooftop of the Xavier mansion, converging unto a certain point, forming the figure that was the Professor of Literature. With a sigh Vitalè would jump form the roof, landing on the doorway of the main entrance, before turning to unlock the door with his key. He would quickly and quietly make his way through the school to do his nightly rounds and ensure there was no trouble afoot. The last time he caught a vampire on the premises it was public notice what had happened...and oh so conveniently there has not been another vampire since...but the threat of Giovanni compelled him to be thorough. So very thorough....
Last edited by Vitalè Muraro on Mon May 26, 2014 6:34 pm; edited 1 time in total
Vitalè followed through the streets of New York City, his senses on high alert. He was following the scent of a rather familiar strain. The smell of rot, decay. Not the kind you could cover up with the cheap cologne either. This was not a physiological rot either...this man smelled of death to his very soul. The smell of death itself. He knew it all too well. It was his friend... his care-taker... his maker... the only man he would ever hate. Giovanni. His fangs bore as he sped through the streets, keeping to the shadows. His steps were silent, he scaled walls without sound and leapt form rooftop to rooftop, glaring, eyes scrying for his maker. He found himself stopping dead in his tracks as he found himself looking at the statue of liberty. He lost the scent. He ran his hand through his jet black hair and turned with a feral hiss. He moved to step from the roof, but before he could fall he transformed into a swarm of a dozen or more bats, disappearing.
The bats would swarm the rooftop of the Xavier mansion, converging unto a certain point, forming the figure that was the Professor of Literature. With a sigh Vitalè would jump form the roof, landing on the doorway of the main entrance, before turning to unlock the door with his key. He would quickly and quietly make his way through the school to do his nightly rounds and ensure there was no trouble afoot. The last time he caught a vampire on the premises it was public notice what had happened...and oh so conveniently there has not been another vampire since...but the threat of Giovanni compelled him to be thorough. So very thorough....
Last edited by Vitalè Muraro on Mon May 26, 2014 6:34 pm; edited 1 time in total