08-23-2018, 10:19 PM
[table][tr][td]
[td]
[/td]
[td]
Nothing was too dissimilar between people with fangs and those with normal teeth, because sometimes people just had really pointy canines, but the rift formed when you compared divinity circulating casually through one individual and the slow blood flow in the other - drastically slow, counteracted only by the blood they consumed. If you hit a vampire, they would bruise, but however it worked the mark would be gone before the end of the day. Funny, the way biology was - did evolution really favour vampires, when they'd start smoking at the edges the moment they stood in sunlight?
But, really, outside differences didn't have to matter. They were all good, mature beings. They could talk around it.
"Back again," Rialto said, a shine to his eyes as he flashed Matt a diplomatic grin, fangs included, and hauled Alex back by their collar to stand by his side. "Hope the trip was smooth. The same as always?" Alex hadn't always been present during the dealings of the alcohol, generally busy all these other nights with throwing their werewolves sticks. Tonight was practically a show of their gargantuan self-restraint.
Nice of the merchant - well, for lack of a better word - to have repeatedly given them warnings about drinking responsibly all the times he sold to them, even though he had to realise that some people weren't worth giving warnings. Half the things that people did were done for the thrill, to hell with why. Likely, however, any wine merchant would be used to that kind of behaviour already. Rialto didn't stop a sly little raise of the lips at Zach's intercept, saying blandly in a terrible attempt at an introduction, "He might be. Cut the guy some slack, we're customers." San Creado just had an surrounding energy. Couldn't blame people for being wary all the while until they actually stepped into it.
Rialto himself preferred sobriety, if only because drinking did nothing for him, physically; he could appreciate business, and all the talent it needed to squeeze out bottles of a substance so strong it made one's blood brain barrier shake in its boots. With the knowledge that alcohol generally had no effect, the first times Matt had come by Rialto had tried a whole swig, and then had woken up about two days later still seeing triple. And in monochrome.
But, really, outside differences didn't have to matter. They were all good, mature beings. They could talk around it.
"Back again," Rialto said, a shine to his eyes as he flashed Matt a diplomatic grin, fangs included, and hauled Alex back by their collar to stand by his side. "Hope the trip was smooth. The same as always?" Alex hadn't always been present during the dealings of the alcohol, generally busy all these other nights with throwing their werewolves sticks. Tonight was practically a show of their gargantuan self-restraint.
Nice of the merchant - well, for lack of a better word - to have repeatedly given them warnings about drinking responsibly all the times he sold to them, even though he had to realise that some people weren't worth giving warnings. Half the things that people did were done for the thrill, to hell with why. Likely, however, any wine merchant would be used to that kind of behaviour already. Rialto didn't stop a sly little raise of the lips at Zach's intercept, saying blandly in a terrible attempt at an introduction, "He might be. Cut the guy some slack, we're customers." San Creado just had an surrounding energy. Couldn't blame people for being wary all the while until they actually stepped into it.
Rialto himself preferred sobriety, if only because drinking did nothing for him, physically; he could appreciate business, and all the talent it needed to squeeze out bottles of a substance so strong it made one's blood brain barrier shake in its boots. With the knowledge that alcohol generally had no effect, the first times Matt had come by Rialto had tried a whole swig, and then had woken up about two days later still seeing triple. And in monochrome.
© MADI
[/td][/tr][/table]