Information
+Vladimir+ has a minion!
Regulus the Pumpkit
Regulus the Pumpkit
+Vladimir+
Legacy Name: +Vladimir+
The
Nightmare MontreOwner: AgentProvocateur
Age: 16 years, 6 months, 4 weeks
Born: August 21st, 2009
Adopted: 16 years, 6 months, 4 weeks ago (Legacy)
Adopted: August 21st, 2009 (Legacy)
Statistics
- Level: 43
- Strength: 94
- Defense: 90
- Speed: 78
- Health: 85
- HP: 60/85
- Intelligence: 123
- Books Read: 48
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Human version.
Obsession, take another look.Remember, every chance you took.Decide - either live with meOr give up - any thought you have of being free.
The only thing I ever really loved was hate.
The drink was placed in a glass with a very wide opening, its appearance similar to that of a martini glass with the glowing neon green drink lingering in it like nuclear waste. He had what looked like a fancy cake knife with holes in elaborate shapes, which in this case consisted of fancy swirling vines with leaves at their ends. This item was a spoon, made particularly for the absinthe drink. A sugar cube was placed on the spoon as it lingered above the edge of the glass, water trickling over it to dissolve the sugar into the drink. It caused the drink to have a misty, foggy result. Finally the glass was raised to his lips and he took a swig. The cigarette that had lingered between those same lips not long before was now put. His eyelids fluttered, pleased, as the liquid traveled down his esophagus and settled into his stomach before running his tongue over his lips. They curved into what was a cross between a sneer and a smile, when one of the colored lights came focused by their area and everything was bathed in a red hue. His index finger traced idly along the edge of the glass as he gave her an invasive look before speaking. "What I mean, love, is that I never fail to find people like you..." his voice trailed off as he embraced their location, "In places such as these. I wouldn't call it cliche though.." he seemed in thought before smiling, eyes half lidded, "I'd say classic is the better fit word. Either here or in a street corner," he snickered before raising the glass of absinthe to his lips again. "Anyway, enough small talk. You and I both know why I'm here...or better yet, what I'm here for. And it isn't a date.." He was no longer smiling as a stern, ominous, and dangerous expression took over his face. His eyes had narrowed into a glare.
Pet Treasure
Absinthe
Whiskey
Bloodred Hunting Knife
Common Six-Shooter