Tilicend Beach

Blair Vanderbilt

As usual, she was pretty much the center of the party, surrounded by people clamoring for her attention. And as usual, she only graced precious few with it - only the people in her inner circle. Oh, and the guy she had agreed to have as her date. She didn't care about him or anything like that, really, but he'd asked and she was feeling pretty generous. Anyway he was pretty cute, although she didn't appreciate the lascivious looks he was giving her.

"Hey," he breathed into her ear. "What do you say we go someplace a little more...private?"

Blair thought about it for a few moments. She would like to get away from the noise and the people (she seriously thought she might suffocate). Plus, she was beginning to get a headache from all of the champagne that she had drank earlier. Usually she only allowed herself two flutes, but today she was stressed, and when Blair was stressed, she got drunk. "Okay," she agreed and followed the guy away from the lights and the music.

"Have I told you how sexy you look tonight?" her date asked her, putting his arms around her hips. He started kissing her. And not even sweetly or gentlemanly or anything - roughly and passionately and...well, she didn't like it.

"No," she said, trying in vain to get away. "It's...it's too hot here. I need to go home." That was the lamest excuse ever to get away but under these circumstances she couldn't think clearly.

"No, you are too hot."

Blair tried to shake him off, but his hold was too tight. "Get off me!"

Oliver Vandrose

He'd kept his word. He'd kept a mental log of the things he'd caught, intending to write them down as soon as he got home. Two squirrels. That was it. That was all he found, the only two creatures willing to expose themselves to the wary forest. He sighed.

He neared the edge of the forest, and was faintly surprised to hear the thudding boom of a sound system with a little too much bass. He furrowed his eyebrows, and changed his course; he was now headed for the beach, although he couldn't see it yet through the fringe of the pine trees.

The popular crowd of Bela Nombre High loved parties. That much was apparent from the way they fawned and fussed over preparations for them, and then continued to relive every moment for weeks after. Oliver had never been interested -- they were usually an excuse to get drunk and do some stupid things uder the pretense of being drunk. What was the purpose? Oliver quite liked his brain cells.

The trees were beginning to disperse, and through them, he could make out the flashing lights and wriggling forms of a full-blast dance party. He barely recognized the song playing through the bass and the shouts which were now almost as loud as the sound system. He began to turn away -- this party was no exception to his antisocial routine -- but before he could make any progress, he heard a shout.

"Get off me!"

The cry was much louder and clearer than the rest of the muddled cacophony -- and sounded like a plea for help. He tuned the voices down on the beach out. By focusing his hearing on searching for one voice, he might be able to find whoever had called out. What he heard was some rustling, perhaps the sound of a struggle. It was coming from his extreme left. . .

He turned and rushed in that direction, and before he'd expected, he'd stumbled upon a couple, locked in an embrace. Except the embrace was much more. . intense, than it looked like it should have been. The girl was trying to push the guy away, and his hands were locked tightly around her waist. She continued to push against his chest, and Oliver cleared his throat loudly.

"I don't think she's interested. Perhaps you should let her go." His voice was low and calm, with an edge of danger. He didn't want to hurt the guy, but if he didn't let go of her, Oliver was afraid of what he might do.

Keith Dkain

It been an alarm system, of sorts, though Oliver may not have known. The animals around here - especially the wild hounds of the wood - knew him. They knew to tell him of trouble.

And there was trouble now.

A wolf not too different-looking from Keith's form came into sight, and he want over. It howled, then ran to a cliff over-looking the beach. It was out of sight of those down there, but he could see them. Trouble. The wolf growled low, and Keith understood. It was down on the beach, a ways away from the rest. Keith nodded slightly and bounded towards the shore.

Keith neared the beach, and when he heard music, he morphed back into human-form. He moved steadily forwards, searching for the problem.

"Get off me!" came the familiar voice of Blair Vanderbilt. He picked up speed and went for the sound. No sooner had he than he saw Oliver near them.

"I don't think she's interested. Perhaps you should let her go." the vampyre said, and Keith could hear potential danger in the young man's voice.

"Boy!" Keith yelled, going over to the pair. He could see the one causing the trouble. It was a young man that was holding Blair so tightly that it looked almost painful. Keith's voice was a dog-like growl now, and the young man holding Blair met his eyes with a slight quake. "You let go of that young lady. She does not like it, you know it. Release her now, or I will make you. And when I make let go, you shall be visiting my dear friend, Doctor Gehringer, as he attempts to make you breath again."

"Okay, okay!" the kid said, backing away. "Geez, I don't see what everyone's problem is!"

"The problem is, that I could send you to prison for how you have just violated Miss Vanderbilt." he said, then moved close to the boy with great speed, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "I hope you are very ashamed. I will see you down at the department tomorrow." He released the teen, who ran away, muttering some things that Keith hoped he never heard from that kid again. "Speak to me like that again, and I'll rip out your vocal chords! Be there, or I will find you!"

Then he turned to Blair. "I am very aware that you normally could have handled that yourself. He must have been holding you more than tightly, if even you could not break loose, Miss Vanderbilt." he said, his voice softening a lot. He went over to Blair. "I shall make sure he gets as much punishment as I can give him. He won't do that again. Are you alright, Miss Vanderbilt?"

Marianne Williams

She should have taken the long way home. Marianne stared wide-eyed at the large group of teenagers laughing loudly as they socialized, her fists clenched tightly at her side. She was dressed a flattering but modest floral summer dress and brown sandals, eager and previously elated about the warm weather. In her left hand, she wielded a grocery bag, along with a loosely knitted beach bag she used as a purse. Marianne began to walk towards the party, nearly slipping on the rocks in her sandals, even though she was usually quite adept at navigating the beach side normally. Right now, she was shaking uncontrollably, her lips pursed.

I should go around...I have to go around... But her feet led her right through the middle of the party, where she was most likely to lose control. To some of the other more dangerous people in Bela Nombre, her fears seemed insignificant. But Marianne had been one of those girls brought up 'proper', who took no chances. It didn't help that her mother had been an upstanding (in other words, strict) Catholic. Her mother's voice echoed through her brain that she should turn around and get out before something happened, because something would definitely happen.

Hey, lady...what are you doing here? called a voice. Marianne, her face the picture of discomfort and surprise, whirled around to briefly meet the eyes of a very intoxicated man of seventeen, who smirked wildly at her as he approached. Frozen for a long moment, screaming at her legs to move, she watched him come closer.

A young woman about the same age came up and looked between the two of them, then offered a grin of her own at Marianne. What's the matter, eh?"

"She seems a little lost. It's a pretty wild party, after all..." the man came up to her, gently touching a lock of her wavy blonde hair.

It was like a small explosion went off in her head. Her face went from nervous and crazed to calm and in control. Her lips, previously agape with a nameless fear, melted into a broad, mischievous grin. She returned the gesture, caressing his jawline delicately with one finger, moving her face close enough to his to smell the alcohol on his breath. "Oh? I was just looking for someone to walk me home...it's awful dark and frightening out there..."

The man looked a little shocked, but took advantage of her changed mood to wrap his arms around her shoulders, pulling her slowly into a kiss to which she readily succumbed. After a moment, they both began walking away from the hubbub of the campfire.

"What's your name?" he asked her in a deep voice, leaning to put his face close to hers as they made their way across the sand.

She grinned at him, whispering, "Melanie..." He gave a thumbs up to some of his friends, still hanging out around the drinks.

She hadn't gotten but a dozen steps when she switched back. Letting out a piercing scream, she threw his hand off and began quickly racing across the sand. He called after her, not understanding how she could change her mind that fast, but she kept running. Her feet cut on some of the rocks as she panted across the beach, until she had tucked herself into a shadowy spot not far from the water's edge. She hugged her knees to her chest, muttering quietly...

"I did it again...I shouldn't have done it...I did it again...She came back..."

Blair Vanderbilt

"I don't think she's interested. Perhaps you should let her go," said a voice that could only belong to Oliver from behind them. The menacing undertone in his voice was apparent, but her 'date' was obviously too busy trying to feel her up to notice. Blair had probably never felt so glad to hear Oliver's voice before (she was glad she looked particularly hot tonight, too, but that was for an entirely different reason). But the stupid dude who was sexually harrassing her paid no notice to Oliver, like the moron he was.

Mere moments later, another voice was heard, this time that of Keith Dkain. "Boy!" he called in a low growl. ""You let go of that young lady. She does not like it, you know it. Release her now, or I will make you. And when I make let go, you shall be visiting my dear friend, Doctor Gehringer, as he attempts to make you breathe again." Her date finally loosened his grip on her enough to let her twist away from his clutches. Breathing heavily, she staggered over to Oliver's side, playing the distraught!Audrey role perfectly. Blair placed a hand on his shoulder as if to support herself and looked up at him and mouthed, 'Thank you.'

"Geez, I don't see what everyone's problem is!" the molester exclaimed defensively. Blair honestly thought she could rip his hair out right then and there.

"You don't know what the problem is? You little..." Blair trailed off just when she had thought of an appropriate swearword, realizing that there was an adult in close vicinity.

"The problem is, that I could send you to prison for how you have just violated Miss Vanderbilt." he said, then moved closer to Mr. Molester, creepily fast, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "I hope you are very ashamed. I will see you down at the department tomorrow." He released Mr. Molester, and thankfully he ran away, muttering some swearwords under his breath. "Speak to me like that again, and I'll rip out your vocal chords! Be there, or I will find you!"

"I am very aware that you normally could have handled that yourself. He must have been holding you more than tightly, if even you could not break loose, Miss Vanderbilt," Keith said in a softer tone, turning to her and goning over to her. "I shall make sure he gets as much punishment as I can give him. He won't do that again. Are you alright, Miss Vanderbilt?"

"Uh...yeah, I guess so," Blair said, not exactly sure if it was true. She guessed she was okay physically, but she felt so dirty. Impure. Unclean. Not even like sexy. "Thanks a lot, Mr. Dkain," she added. "I really appreciate it." She still maintained her hold on Oliver's shoulder. "I...I think I'll be fine," she said. "You can go now if you want. I'm sure you have better things to do than psychoanalyze a teenager." She smiled sweetly.

Oliver Vandrose

A voice erupted to his right, and he looked to find Sheriff Dkain, his eerie violet eyes shining through the darkness. He warned the perpetrator to let go of the girl, whose back was to Oliver, calling on the name of Dr. Gehringer and threatening the guy. Oliver thought it was a good technique -- he didn't think Dkain was actually capable of anything so violent, but. . .

The guy loosened his grip, and the girl turned. Oliver sighed as she drew closer and he recognized her. Blair's hand landed on his shoulder -- which was considerably higher than her own -- and she mouthed up at him, 'Thank you.' He shook his head and leaned down slightly, so that Blair could hear him, and whispered, "Don't thank me. Thank Sheriff Dkain."

"Geez, I don't see what everyone's problem is!" The guy looked faintly familiar, but Oliver didn't know his name. Maybe that was a good thing. Putting a name to the face would only make Oliver angrier. Blair bristled beside him.

"You don't know what the problem is? You little..." She started, but Oliver wrapped his hand around her wrist in warning. She quieted as soona s she realized Sheriff Dkain was in earshot, though.

"Perhaps," Oliver said quietly, his voice still deadly and sarcastic, "our problem is that you don't have any morals. . . but I'm just taking a wild guess." He wasn't sure if anyone heard him, apart form perhaps Blair.

"The problem is, that I could send you to prison for how you have just violated Miss Vanderbilt," Dkain said. Oliver actually preferred that reply to his own rather weak one. Somehow, while Oliver had been musing, Dkain had grabbed hold of the guy's shirt collar. Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. "I hope you are very ashamed. I will see you down at the department tomorrow." He all but threw the guy away form him, and the guy took off int eh opposite direction, muttering somethign under his breath that sounded extremely inappropriate. Dkain almost glowed with anger. "Speak to me like that again, and I'll rip out your vocal chords! Be there, or I will find you!"

Oliver's eyes widened. He wasn't kidding when he said he would do anything to protect, he thought. He was kind of worried, though. Dkain still looked extremely angry. "Sheriff?" he asked, his voice soothing and low. Dkain seemed to get a hold of himself, though, and he turned towards them, looking at Blair. He asked if she was alright, and Blair hesitated, if only slightly.

"Uh...yeah, I guess so," she said, as if trying to convince herself it was the truth. "Thanks a lot, Mr. Dkain," she said, and Oliver nodded in approval. . . and agreement. "I really appreciate it." He was aware of her hand on his shoulder still. . . and his hand around her wrist. He let go suddenly. "I...I think I'll be fine. You can go now if you want. I'm sure you have better things to do than psychoanalyze a teenager." Her smile was sweet, practiced. Efficient, he'd give her that.

He peered down at her, worried. "You're sure you're alright? It kind of looked like he was hurting you."

He looked around, and caught Dkain's gaze. "I have something for you," he said pointedly. Two squirrels. He was surprised he remembered, all things considered. He surely couldn't feel the effects of his hunt anymore, which annoyed him. He'd definitely have to travel, and soon. "Perhaps another time, though. . . there are more important things at hand."

Keith Dkain

The kid seemed surprised that Keith was so angry about this, but let go of Blair, saying he didn't know what everyone's problem was.

"You don't know what the problem is? You little..." Blair began, she was fuming. Keith met her eyes for a moment. He didn't need anymore trouble.

"Perhaps, our problem is that you don't have any morals. . . but
I'm just taking a wild guess." Oliver pointed out. Keith had his own ideas, telling the kid that he could send him to prision for such a violation. All the teens seemed either satisfied with the idea or in agreeance that this was a good consquence. Keith shot over to the boy, grabbing his shirt and demanding that he go to the department tomorrow. The frightened teen scrambled away, his tongue again becoming a problem. Without a moment's hesitation, Keith threatened to rip out the boy's vocal chords, and said that if the boy didn't come on his own, Keith would find him. Still fuming for a moment, he heard someone's voice whisper softly: "Sheriff?"

With a sigh, Keith regained his composure and assured Blair that he would give the kid his dues, then asked if she was alright. She looked very shaken by the events.

"Uh...yeah, I guess so," Blair replied, seeming unsure, but Keith was not surprised. He nodded, satisfied that she was recovering such an attack better than most. "Thanks a lot, Mr. Dkain, I really appreciate it."

Keith smiled slightly, seeing Oliver nod in agreement. "It is my duty and my pleasure to keep this town and all its good citizens safe, whether from others or from themselves." he said, cooly. "Some do not know their worth, and hurt others. But I say again, that boy will learn.

"I...I think I'll be fine. You can go now if you want. I'm sure you have better things to do than psychoanalyze a teenager." Blair assured him with one of her 'smiles', but Keith shook his head.

"I have a feeling we shall all be better off if I wander about for a while. Just to be sure." he told her, smiling slightly back at her.

Oliver looked rather worried. "You're sure you're alright? It kind of looked like he was hurting you." he said, and Keith nodded.

"Nonetheless, I should stay for a while, in case that blaggard decides that I wouldn't want to hang around." Keith added, then laughed. "I like parties too, you know. I wasn't a teenager that long ago."

Oliver met his eyes, and Keith was intersted. "I have something for you," he mentioned, and Keith nodded. "Perhaps another time, though. . .
there are more important things at hand."

"Thank you." he said, his eyes looking straight into Olivers. "Good job. We will discuss that situation later, because there is also some setting up we need to do. You may understand what I mean." His eyes flashed, then he looked at Miss Blair. He was about to say something when he heard someone else cry out. Rolling his eyes, Keith stepped away. "What did I tell you, eh?" He ran in the direction of the yelp, to see a retreating figure and a very confused-looking young man. "What happened?"

"I dunno... she just... came up, we started hanging out, she said her name was Melanie, and then, a few moments later... she just..." the young man babbled. Keith's eyes widened.

"Melanie? Damn. Was she blonde?" he asked, and the boy nodded. "Her name isn't Melanie. Her name is Marianne Williams."

"Never heard of her."

Keith went close. "Exactly." he said, just before darting towards Marianne. "Marianne. Marianne!" He looked around, then saw her, almost-hidden in the darkness, her knees pulled up close. He could see her wounded feet as he came closer.

"I did it again...I shouldn't have done it...I did it again...She came back..."

With a sigh, Keith slowly went close to her. "Marianne... it's okay. Marianne, it's me. Keith." he said, his voice incredibly gentle. Poor Marianne. She had been through so much. "Marianne... are you alright? You cut your feet... Can I look at them? Make sure they are okay?"

Marianne Williams

She hadn't been sitting long when a deep male voice broke through her thoughts. Marianne peered upwards, frozen in place in her protective position, and watched the sillhouette of a large man come nearer.

Marianne's lip trembled as she held back a whimper. The deep voice let out a gentle sigh, speaking softly to her in encouraging tones that one used with a stray animal, "Marianne... it's okay. Marianne, it's me. Keith." She'd known. She'd known it was Keith. For years people in town had teased Keith for always being at the right place at the right time. It was as though he had the whole town wired, and somehow had a secret transportation system that only he knew about.

"Marianne... are you alright? You cut your feet... Can I look at them? Make sure they are okay?"

Her head lifted up ever-so-gradually to meet his, and her eyes were wide and childlike, shimmering with tears. Stifling a sob, she nodded, shifting so that he could inspect the now fast-bleeding bottoms of her feet, a mix of crimson and sand. Marianne now began breathing in and out in a forced even pattern, to both ease the pain now shooting through her legs and to calm her nerves.

"I should have gone around, Keith, but I couldn't....she kept me going..." she tried to explain, as though she had been caught doing something wrong. "I don't know what to do...I'm so weak...I should be able to control her..." She buried her face in her hands, forcing back the tears that were longing to fall. "I can't live like this!"

No one believes me! I can't be around people anymore...even if this is my home. It would better if I just faded away...disappeared into a memory...

Blair Vanderbilt

"I have a feeling we shall all be better off if I wander about for a while. Just to be sure," said Mr. Dkain in response to her telling him that he could leave, with her best, suck-up!Audrey smile, which she pretty much only used for adults, and pretty much only when she wanted something. Blair would rather he left altogether, but she supposed it was better than nothing that he would be, like, all in her face or anything. She didn't want to talk to a concerned, trusted adult like some character in a stupid after-school special. She just...didn't.

"Really, I'll be fine," she protested. Blair didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She never really had. Her father had always been busy with his work. And her mother…she just wasn’t there for her.

That didn't mean that Blair didn't want someone to take care of her, though. But don't get your fishnets in a twist. We'll get to that later.

"You're sure you're alright? It kind of looked like he was hurting you." This time it was Oliver who voiced his concern. Suddenly Blair was aware of the fact that he was no longer holding her wrist. Damn. But how cute; he was worried about her! Actually, he was sort of right, because she could still feel the spot on her back where he pressed her to him, but it wasn’t really that painful. She was pretty much okay, physically. But she still felt dirty and…and such.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, as if trying to convince herself that it was true. “He didn’t really hurt me that much.” Blair placed a hand on her neck, over where he had kissed her. It sort of…burned. She wasn’t sure if it was for psychological or physical reasons, but it did. “He was sort of rough, though,” she admitted.

"Nonetheless, I should stay for a while, in case that blaggard decides that I wouldn't want to hang around." Mr. Dkain added with a laugh. "I like parties too, you know. I wasn't a teenager that long ago.” Blair cracked a small smile at his sort of lame attempt at humor, wishing he would just leave already. But no, he stayed, having a cryptic little conversation with Oliver that Blair didn't bother to try to decipher. Then, as if God or someone had heard her wish, someone yelped and Mr. Dkain said, "What did I tell you, eh?" and went off in the general direction of the yelp, leaving her and Oliver alone. She let out a sigh. Finally.

Blair turned to face Oliver. “Thank you,” she said, intertwining her fingers with his. “Thank you so much.” She wasn't really sure what she was thanking him for or anything, but she felt grateful to him all the same. Plus, she knew that men loved to be complimented and thanked. It made them feel appreciated and useful, which made them feel manly and studly, and guys usually liked girls who made them feel that way. Blair tried to seem fragile and baby-bird-like, resting her chin on his shoulder.

All of a sudden she felt really, really tired. Exhausted, really. And she had no idea why. Blair had been dancing earlier, but that wasn’t nearly as tiring as all the tennis she had played the other day, and she hadn’t been nearly this tired then. She found herself falling forward against Oliver, her weight putting pressure on his body (Blair hoped he didn't think she was heavy, regretting those olives she had had earlier). It was a good thing they were so close or it would have been more of a smack and less of a lean. To the casual bypasser, it probably looked like they were slow dancing or something. Blair sighed. He was really, really hot, Oliver, and it felt pretty good like this. And he had just, like, saved her. Or he'd tried, anyway, which was close. Could it be that he was the Paul to her Holly? She raised her head off his shoulder to look him in the eyes.

He had all of the basic requirements she needed in a guy. Hot as hell, for one. Smart, too. And polite and such. And he seemed like...he could take care of her.

Blair closed her eyes and leaned in closer, her lips barely brushing his. She paused a moment, taking note of her feelings. Butterflies in her stomach, a tingly feeling all over, the unmistakable feel of sexual tension…everything was there. Everything. After taking another moment to savor the feeling of anticipation she had at that moment, she kissed him for real.

Oliver Vandrose

Dkain nodded when Oliver told him about the list he'd made, in fewer words. "Thank you," he said, and his strange purple eyes bore din Oliver's silver-rimmed blue ones. [b]"Good job. We will discuss that situation later, because there is also some setting up we need to do. You may understand what I mean." His eyes flashed before looking towards Blair, seemingly intent on speaking again. Then a yelp from the beach, and with a roll of his eyes, Dkain said, "What did I tell you, eh?" before bounding off in the direction of the noise.

Blair and Oliver were alone then, and Blair seized the opportunity. She twined her fingers with his, and he tensed. “Thank you,” she said, her voice almost calculating. . . but perhaps that was his imagination. “Thank you so much.” She seemed tired, and distraught, but he wasn't sure how much of it was actual distress over the situation or Blair playing it up to her favor.

She laned her chin against his shoulder, and he furrowed his eyebrows. Who is this girl, and why is she doing this to me? He wanted to back away from ehr and run int eh opposite direction, but didn't move. He tried to make his breathing very shallow so as not to disturb her. . . and then she fell into him.

Her body leaned into his and instinctively his arms wrapped around her waist, to keep her from loosing her balance; he expected her to straighten upi fairly quickly, but she didn't move. She simply rested against him, and he could hear her breathing. . .

And then she pulled her head away form her chest to gaze up at him. Her big brown eyes were imploring, and Oliver frowned.

"Uh, Blair, perhaps we should go back down to the beach," he started to say, but was interrupted by her lips brushing very lightly against his.

He was too startled to move. She leaned away again, her eyes still closed, and before he could protest, her lips were on his again, stronger, more passionate.

He didn't move at first. He was stone-still, his arms still locked around her waist awkwardly. And then his lips began to move with hers, in a strange pattern he fell into fairly quickly. . .

It actually felt quite nice. And aside from the fact that Blair symbolized everything he hated, she was pretty. . . and he assumed she was nice, underneath all her pettines. . .

And then he remembered it was Blair, and that she was human, frail, red-blooded human. . .

His hands pushed her away gently, breaking the kiss. His eyes were wide, and though his thirst wasn't ruling his judgement -- yet -- he wasn't going to wait around for his mind to convince him to make the mistake. He glared at Blair. "Sorry, Blair, but no. I can't do that." He didn't wait for her reaction before saying, "Perhaps we should go back down to the beach now." His voice was hard, but he wasn't reprimanding her for kissing him. He was reprimanding himself for allowing her to.

Blair Vanderbilt

Just when Oliver had started to kiss back (he was surprisingly good at it, since this was what she assumed to be his first time) and just when she was starting to get a tad carried away, pulling him as close to him as she could without being too slutty, he pulled back abruptly and glared at her. Blair bit her lip. She hadn't done anything wrong...she had kissed him, yeah, but she gave him plenty of time before doing it to stop her, and he had effing kissed back. "Sorry, Blair, but no. I can't do that. Perhaps we should go back down to the beach now."

Blair looked down, trying to disguise the hurt she felt. She wouldn't be hurt!Audrey. She'd be the Ice Queen that she was in the halls of Bella Nombre High School. Being hurt!Audrey was showing...too much weaknes...but under these circumstances, it was hard not to show weakness. She had just been sexually molested, she had a pounding headache, she was tired as hell, and now she was being rejected by who she had thought mere moments ago was the Paul to her Holly.

Suddenly, at the worst possible time, her phone rang. With an irritable sigh, she checked the caller ID. Her mother, again. Blair prayed for a nice conversation for once. She didn't need anymore reason to be sad. "Hang on, I have to take this." Blair looked at him with imploring, large eyes, hoping that it would work. "Don't leave."

Blair pressed the phone to her ear. "Hello, mother," she said, trying to hide her dejection.

"Don't speak to me in that tone," her mother snapped. "Blair, I heard from your tennis coach that you lost your last tennis match. That is unacceptable."

Blair bit her lip again, trying to keep the tears back. It felt like she was being cornered from all sides at that moment. It had been the first tennis match she had ever lost, and it was still a sore spot with her. "Mother, everyone has to lose once in a while," she said. "It was the only one I've ever lost. I'm still nationally ranked..."

"No excuses," her mother answered. "No daughter of mine would lose." And with that, she hung up.

This was just too effing much. Her mother hated her and Oliver hated her and her dad was living in France with another man. Why didn't anyone love her? "Am I not pretty enough?" she cried, turning to Oliver, held back tears bursting forth. Blair sank down onto the sand. "What's wrong with me?" The tears were beginning to flow so fast now that her whole body heaved with sobs. She couldn't stop even if she tried now. "You don't like me, my 'date' just saw me as some girl to force himself on...My own mother doesn't even like me." Blair cried even harder at this thought. "Why can't I do anything right?"

Oliver Vandrose

When he pried her off him, she looked down. Crap. She tried to hide her disappointment, but failed, and Oliver's heart sunk. Or rather, the place where his heart had previously been beating felt hollow. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Blair. . . no, Blair, I didn't mean -- " he started, but was interrupting by the ringing of a phone. Damn! This girl had more calls waiting than anyone he'd ever met. He waited while she said, "Hang on, I have to take this." She looked up at him and added, "Don't leave."

He sighed, and she turned her back on him. He pinched the bridge of his nose while the conversation continued, but he didn't listen like he had earlier. Instead, he was pummeling himself internally. His mind seemed to have split into two opposing sides, and they were now yelling at each other.

You're so stupid, Oliver. How could you let that happen?

How could I let this happen? I didn't know she was going to kiss me!

But you didn't stop her, either. You kissed her back. You idiot!

What's wrong with Blair?

What isn't wrong with her? She's everything you hate.

Suffice to say he had a killer headache and really just wanted to go home.

At that precise moment, though, Blair's phone call had ended. She turned back to Oliver, and throught eh dim light of twilight, he saw that her eyes were extra-sparkly. "Am I not pretty enough?" she asked, and Oliver frowned, his expression contorted with confusion.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked quietly, but Blair didn't hear. She'd sunk down to the sand below her, looking completely used. Oh.

Oh. She was crying. Well, crap! He rushed to her side and sank to his knees beside her. The only thing he didn't do was touch her; the side of his mind that was currently anti-Blair wouldn't let him yet. "What's wrong with me?" she blubbed, and Oliver grimaced. There was nothing left over from his years of experience to help him comfort a crying girl, nothing to use as a precedent. He settled for laying an awkward, cold hand on her shoulder, and patting it lightly. It seemed extremely child-like.

"You don't like me, my 'date' just saw me as some girl to force himself on...My own mother doesn't even like me." her sobs redoubled, and Oliver's frowned deepened, a crease now carved in his forehead. "Why can't I do anything right?"

Oliver sighed and wrapped his long arms around her shuddering frame, too concerned now with making her cheerful again to are about how she'd interpret this gesture. "Who said I didn't like you?" he asked quietly, and a smile spread across his lips. "I'm fairly sure you came up with that one on your own. Didn't I explain this morning? I can stand you. I just can't stand you when you're Queen B."

His smiled was a little lighter now, and he said, "And if your mother can't accept you for who you are rather than who she thinks you should be, then that's her problem to solve, and not yours."

Kieth Dkain

Marianne looked up at him, tears in her wide eyes. She nodded and moved so that he could inspect her wounds. Keith sighed at the mess of sand that had already gotten inside them, and he took them gently. Her breathing was odd and forced, and he looked up to meet her eyes calmly, in an attempt to give her some sort of peace.

"Ishould have gone around, Keith, but I couldn't....she kept me going..." she rushed to say, and Keith shook his head. "I don't know what to do...I'm so weak...I should be able tocontrol her... I can't live like this!" She hid her face, and Keith frowned.

"Marianne... It is alright. You cannot control her, and I don't blame you in the slightest... Marianne..." he soothed, half-forgetting her cuts. His eyes flitted down to her feet for a moment, and he sighed. "Come, Marianne, I'll take you back to the department to get these cleaned out." He moved forwards slowly, picking her up from behind to brace her behind the neck and under her knees. "It's alright, Marianne... I promise it will be alright. You are very strong. None of this is your fault." He kissed the top of her head softly, hoping it would make her feel better. She stayed away so much because was worried. But he was more worried about her. Moving slowly away, Keith made his way to Oliver and Blair, who looked like they were experiencing some issues.

"Oliver. I am going to the department. I expect to see you later on." he said, simply, his expression solemn. "Good night, Miss Blair." He nodded at the young lady. "I hope that you feel better in the morning, but do not force it."

With that, Keith moved away, picking up speed slightly as he went out of sight. She needed to be cared for, and he wanted to do it soon.

Keith has left the Beach.

Marianne Williams

She felt Keith's concern and his worry, as well as his calming influence. "Marianne... It is alright. You cannot control her, and I don't blame you in the slightest... Marianne..." As he became more and more gentle, his voice lowered to nearly a purr. Marianne looked up at him helplessly, disbelieving. You should...I should control her...

When he saw the look in her eyes, he sighed again, deeper this time. As though he was letting out any resentment towards her. "Come, Marianne, I'll take you back to the department to get these cleaned out." She waited as he slowly picked her up, her entire body feeling numb after the sharp and shocking pain to her feet and nerves. She was a rather thinly-built woman from the start, but she had lost weight lately, and she hadn't figured out why. Like a child, she curled up in his arms, resting her head beneath Keith's chin, her hands clasped into fists and laying against his chest "It's alright, Marianne... I promise it will be alright. You are very strong. None of this is your fault." She felt his lips touch the top of her head, and she closed her eyes, calm for at least one moment, despite the screaming voice in her head that insisted on being let out, on taking advantage of the moment. No...not now...just let me rest...

Keith began talking to someone nearby, and Marianne marveled at the deep rumbling in his chest whenever he spoke. It was almost doglike in quality, dark and forceful, no matter how soft he attempted to make it. Scarcely breathing, she refused to open her eyes, only crawling deeper into the material of Keith's leather jacket, the smell overwhelmingy potent. Keith is so nice to people, all the time...he never betrays those that trust in him...I want to be like that!

As she faded into unconsciousness, a little voice in her head snarled back.

I'll never let you be like that.

Blair Vanderbilt

Oliver might have been hot, but he had no idea how to make a girl feel better. Queen B was part of who she was. Being Queen B was pretty much the only way she could get some sense of control in her life. She had no control over her family life, her mind, her emotions, or even her body. Being Queen B didn’t make up for all of it, but it did make up for some of it. And he had been right earlier that day. She was scared. Scared that if she stopped being Queen B, putting on a perfectly pulled –together, pristine façade, she’d fall apart and have nothing. She couldn’t stop being Queen B. Maybe when she went to Yale and could start living out her happily ever after, but definitely not before. Plus, the fact that he didn’t like her wasn’t so much the problem as the fact that he didn’t like her. He was supposed to be her Paul Varjack. Not that she’d tell anyone, let alone Oliver, that.

And about her mother…well, really, he sounded like he had just copied the script off of Seventh Heaven or some other stupid TV show like that. One of those ones that was supposed to deal with real issues that real people faced and was supposed to teach people how to get through that stuff, when really it was all idealized and none of the so-called ‘solutions’ really worked. Audrey Hepburn movies were idealized too, but at least Holly really was messed up, unlike those Seventh Heaven people. Their lives were way too good to be real. She didn’t think she had ever met anyone as lucky as the Seventh Heaven kids. Blair didn’t even think those kinds of people even existed.

She was suddenly aware of Oliver’s arms around her. “Ouch,” she said between sobs, moving his hands higher up on her back – he had been putting pressure on the place where Mr. Molester had held her to him.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted her crying jag. Damn. More specifically, the voice of Mr. Keith Dkain. Blair quickly dried her tears before he could see them, and forced herself to stop crying. "Oliver. I am going to the department. I expect to see you later on." he said. "Good night, Miss Blair." He nodded at her. "I hope that you feel better in the morning, but do not force it."

When he was gone, Blair leaned against Oliver’s chest, her breathing still shuddery and irregular. Even though he didn’t like her, that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to take advantage of her current position. And then something occurred to Blair that shocked her into not crying. “Hey,” she said, lifting her head. “I can’t feel your heartbeat.” She grabbed his wrist, trying to feel for a pulse, but she couldn’t find one. “I can’t find a pulse, either.” Her brow creased in worry. “And you’re cold…and pale…” Her frown deepened. “But you look fine…and you’re breathing…and…oh.” Her already large eyes widened with sudden realization.

So he was…a vampire. Blair wasn’t really sure how she felt about that. But she was pretty sure it was true. She wasn’t stupid; she could put two and two together. It explained why he never ate, for one. And why he randomly was absent sometimes, for another. It was a really, really weird thing to assume, but…what other explanation was there? Besides, she’d read about vampires, and they generally had no pulse and were cold and pale and gorgeous. Plus, if she could turn teacups into toads, he could be a vampire. Blair wondered if he was thirsty, if he wanted to bite her, to drink her blood.

Then something occurred to her – something really, really horrible. It pretty much confirmed her feeling that nobody really liked her, which made her feel just peachy. (Not.) “Wait…” she said, pushing herself away from Oliver. “Are you just being nice to me so that you can…can…” Blair couldn’t even finish her sentence. “Well, you might as well just bite me, then,” she said, her voice thick with tears, pushing her hair away from her neck. She hoped she was making him feel good and guilty, because he deserved it. Kissing her back like that and then telling her that he couldn’t do that and then turning out to be a vampire (although she guessed the last bit wasn’t his fault – it was more the kissing her and then totally just rejecting her that she wanted him to feel guilty about)…A girl could only take so much. “It’s not like anyone would care.” A single tear rolled down Blair's cheek. She was pretty sure she looked pretty like that - beautiful, even - with her hair perfect as usual, her skin shining with moisturizer and newly wiped away tears, and her large, brown eyes, but she hoped she looked like Miss America, or better, that ethereally pretty statue of the Virgin Mary she had seen in Rome last summer. She hoped she looked so hot that he'd think, 'What have I been doing?' and feel remorse a million times deeper than Holly Golightley's when she let Cat (and Paul) go. Only unlike for Holly, it would be too late, whether he decided to bite her or not (Blair pushed the little voice in her head that told her that that was so not true to the back of her head).

It would serve him right.



Admin Note: Edited for language. Keep it clean, girly.

Oliver Vandrose

He was trying his hardest to comfort her, he really was. It wasn't this fault that he hadn't felt the need to become good at it. He could be nice and sweet. . . but there were somethings he just couldn't accomplish as well as someone else might be able to, someone human. Nobody could be perfect, after all.

He imagined his cold, hard arms didn't feel near as comforting around her as some human guy's warm-blooded ones might. But Blair could deal with what she was given. He didn't have to do this anyways. He cous have left after the trouble was gone, after the guy that had been bothering her had left. Then he wouldn't even be in this situation.

Except, he felt bad for her. For some inexplicable reason, he felt bad for Blair and all her quirks and all her needs. She needed someone to turn to, right? It just so happened he'd been the closest person available.

He was torn between feeling glad that he could help and cursing himself for not running sooner. And then a voice interrupted Blair's sobbing, and Oliver was pulled from his own convoluted inner musings.

"Oliver. I am going to the department. I expect to see you later on." Sheriff Dkain was carrying someone in his arms. Oliver nodded shortly, before Dkain turned to Blair. "Good night, Miss Blair. I hope that you feel better in the morning, but do not force it."

Blair didn't repsond, but once Dkain was out of sight, she leaned against his chest again. Oliver sighed and unraveled his arms, uncomofrtable. Blair certainly wasn't making it any easier; she knew his views about thier 'relationship' -- which technically wasn't a relationship, but Oliver wasn't in the mood to find a more fitting word -- but still seemed intent on invading his personal boundaries. Oliver smiled to himself. That's Blair. . . always unsure of where the lines that shouldn't be crossed lie.

"Hey," she said, abruptly lifting her head off his chest and jolting him back to reality. “I can’t feel your heartbeat.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her, and grinned in what he hoped was a patronizing way. "Maybe you aren't paying attention." He wanted very badly to say she might have frozen it, but figured she'd take that the wrong way. She grabbed his wrist and, after feeling around for a few moments, looke dup at him, frowning.

“I can’t find a pulse, either.” She looked worried. “And you’re cold…and pale…” He frown became more pronounced, as her realization struck her. Oliver was forwning at her, too, his eyes hard. “But you look fine…and you’re breathing…and…oh.”

So that was it. She knew. She figured it out -- which was more than he cared to give ehr credit for -- and now his whole life, his whole existence waited on the chopping block under Blair Vanderbilt's hand. With one swift movement she could cause so much trouble. . . He now cursed himself for ever getting close enough to her to allow her to even consider the possibilities. He and Ross would have to leave Bela Nombre. . .

It was so cliche. Oliver's reputation, falling at the hand of the ice Queen, like so many others. He hated it. All of it. Blair, for being so undeniably tied to her social existence that she had no compassion for anyone else. . . himself, for being so inexorably stupid. . . his curse, for making him this way. . .

Blair pushed away from him. "Wait…” she said, her voice thick with tears, and quite possibly fear. “Are you just being nice to me so that you can…can…” The tears welled up in her eyes, and Oliver frowned.

“Well, you might as well just bite me, then,” she said, pulling her hair up and away from her neck, as if doing so would somehow save its brilliance and beauty from the horrid act he might commit. So shallow.

In that moment, Oliver couldn't think of anyone he dispised more than Blair. Some would say -- she would say herself -- that it was noble of herself to face death so openly, so readily. Oliver didn't see it that way, however. He saw it as Bliar backing down. She was to afraid to face herself, and allowing Oliver to kill her now just proved it. “It’s not like anyone would care.”

Oliver shot her a look of contempt and stood up, backing away. He was five feet away before he stopped. "Dammit, Blair." His hands balled into fists, wanting very badly to make contact with something. He half-wanted to frighten Blair, make her run away and back to the party -- but then he realized what would happen then. Perhaps he still had a chance.

"Do you honestly think I like being this?" He held his hands out, awayf rom his body, gesturing to the strong, sleek form he'd been given. "I don't. I hate it everyday that I have to fight not to kill one of you. And you act like your life is so horrible. . . imagine having to fight against your own nature, against what you've been designed to do. It's hell, Blair. It's a hell so strong that I don't care about you or what your mother thinks of you or how good you look, in the end. Because none of it matters, honestly." He forced his fist to relax. "And if there is some small ounce of compassion left in you, you'd realize that what I'm dealing with is way beyond you and how you feel about me. You'd realize that I need Bela Nombre, and I can't afford to leave, not now." He crossed to where Blair kneeled in a lightning-quick movement, and kneeled down so that he was almost face-to-face with her, a few inches apart.

"So can you please, please keep quiet about this, about me?" He beseeched her, his deep silver-rimmed, sapphire eyes burning with the desire to stay in Bela Nombre. "Not a word, to anyone. Keep my secret," he said, looking down at her, "and I'll keep yours." He gestured to where she knelt in the sand, looking weak -- a sight she'd fight tooth and nail to keep from reaching her devout followers.

It seemed like a fair trade to him.

Blair Vanderbilt

Blair struggled to get her bearings as Oliver drew away from her, saying things about his 'life' was hell, and things like that. Nothing really registered in her brain, however - she was too busy trying to sort things out in her head. Okay, so I think it's established that he's not going to bite me...that's good. And he's trying to not drink human blood. That's good too. But he's angry. That's not good. Ugh, I'm thinking like a five-year-old. I have a 4.0 and I'm getting into Yale, dammit. Why can't I think properly?

Oliver stooped down so they were mere inches apart, jolting her back to reality. "So can you please, please keep quiet about this, about me? Not a word, to anyone. Keep my secret, and I'll keep yours."

Blair looked into his silver-blue eyes with her own, large, brown ones. "You think I was going to tell people?" she said, furrowing her brow. "Well, I guess that's something I would normally do," she admitted grudgingly, "but I was only acting that way because I thought you were going to...well, yeah." She didn't want to say the words 'kill me'; they sounded overly melodramatic. "I'm not quite that evil," she said with a wry smile, trying to lighten the atmosphere. It was far too tense for her liking.

It was weird. She would normally tell everyone about Oliver's secret, to maintain her Ice Queen reputation more than anything, but since that reputation was shot to hell with him anyway, it was pretty much useless to try to reconstruct it. But it was true, too, that she wasn't quite that evil. Blair might have been an ice queen, but even ice could be melted.

Boy, do I need some Lexapro now, Blair thought. "Uh, hang on, I need to take cold medicine," she lied, taking out two pills (really, having one was already OD-ing, since she had already had Lexapro earlier that day, but she was stressed and she needed two right then, dammit) and popping them into her mouth. She dry-swallowed them without grimacing, as she had done many times before.

"So I guess you think I'm pretty stupid now," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Having a mother like mine and a dad who ran off to France with his gay boyfriend to live on a vineyard is pretty much overshadowed by having to fight against your natural instincts." Even when you add in the bulimia - no, stress-induced-regurgitation; bulimia is for losers - and the overdosing on Lexapro, Blair added in her head, but that's a secret.

Oliver Vandrose

Her eyes widened, and Oliver moved away from her, if only by a foot. "You think I was going to tell people?" She frowned, then semi-shrugged. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, I guess that's something I would normally do," she allowed, "but I was only acting that way because I thought you were going to...well, yeah." She seemed to be opposed to actually saying the words, as Oliver did.

He frowned, and stood up again. He turned so that he was facing out over the beach rather than facing her; he watched the dizzying swirl of colored lights, and felt the thump of the bass for the first time since finding Blair and her 'date.' "Just the idea that you thought I would," he muttered, too quite for her to hear.

"I'm not quite that evil," she said, continuing her previous thought. He looked down and noted the smile she offered, and shook his head slightly. She was only trying to lighten his black mood, but he doubted anything she tried would work. He was quite thoroughly depressed already. He really just wanted to go home, but felt that leaving Blair here, by herself, was simply inviting trouble.

Something about her tone made him believe her, and he didn't press that subject any further. Instead, he looked towards the party again. "Should you go back down to the beach? Won't anyone miss you?" he asked. He suspected the friends who she was here with -- the real friends, not the owly followers who answered her every call -- didn't even notice she was gone. Not that they didn't care, but everyone down on that beach was to self-absorbed to notice their Queen B was missing.

"Uh, hang on, I need to take cold medicine," she said instead of an answer. He watched as she pulled out two small pills and popped them into her mouth, swallowing them without water to ease the way. Seemed she was used to it, and barely flinched. He offered her a hand to help her up, fully intending to walk her down to the beach.

"So I guess you think I'm pretty stupid now," she said, seemingly ignoring his hand. Oliver grimaced. "Having a mother like mine and a dad who ran off to France with his gay boyfriend to live on a vineyard is pretty much overshadowed by having to fight against your natural instincts."

He shook his head. "Everyone had issues. Your human issues and my vampire issues may not be at all alike, but it's how we solve them that makes us all alike." He laughed then, a quiet, low chuckle. "I know, it's cheesy. You don't like my advice," he noted, nodding. "That's fairly obvious. But it's the way I see things, how I've experienced them." He cocked an eyebrow. "It's usually all true, as well," he added teasingly, before offering his hand again. "Come on, Blair. It's getting late."

Blair Vanderbilt

"Everyone had issues. Your human issues and my vampire issues may not be at all alike, but it's how we solve them that makes us all alike," said Oliver after Blair remarked unusually self-deprecatingly that her problems were stupid compared to his. Blair rolled her eyes (he was doing the Seventh Heaven thing again - really, he could have written the whole script to that show). Probably because of her expression, he laughed and said, "I know, it's cheesy. You don't like my advice," he remarked with a nod. "That's fairly obvious. But it's the way I see things, how I've experienced them. It's usually all true, as well," he added, his tone teasing, light.

"Uh, sorry, but no," Blair said in a tone to match his, even though she was only half-kidding. It might have worked for someone else, but not Blair. That advice was for good, wholesome people with a loving mother and father. Needless to say, she did not fit the description.

He offered his hand to her. "Come on, Blair. It's getting late."

She let out a sigh. "I guess," she said. "I should probably do some rumor-bashing anyway. Not that it'll help much," she added wryly. Blair took his hand and got up, careful not to put too much pressure on his hand (he might think she was heavy).

"So...thank you," she said and then met his eyes. "For everything." A smile spread out on Blair's lips. "Even though your advice sort of sucks," she added teasingly.

Oliver Vandrose

"Uh, sorry, but no," Blair said, her tone much the same as his had been. He grinned and shook his head. Perhaps it didn't work for her. Perhaps she was one of those special few that needed a whole other set of rules -- like the drug abusers so far out of reality that the regular set of rules made no sense. Blair was far from a drug abuser, but perhaps she required the same sense of tampering to her advice.

She sighed when he offered his hand, and took it. "I guess," she said, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She was extremely light. "I should probably do some rumor-bashing anyway. Not that it'll help much," she said. Oliver sighed, then walked alongside her, back towards the lights and sounds.

"So...thank you," she said. he turned and met her gaze, and shrugged. "For everything." He returned the smile she offered before she said, "Even though your advice sort of sucks."

He scoffed. "My advice is amazing, for normal people," he said, his eyes wide as he grinned, only slightly. He felt surprisingly at ease at the moment. His killer headache had subsided, and Blair was being herself, rather than the pretense she was at school, would be when they reached the beach. Then his brow creased, and he frowned. "Blair? Why do you. . ." He paused, then reworded. "What is it about rumors? Why are they so appealing to you? Is it self-gratification, or just to make someone else feel bad?"

He was truly curious. He'd never understood the rumor mill, only that it was a vicious cycle that people participated in endlessly.

Blair Vanderbilt

"My advice is amazing, for normal people," Oliver said, seeming to be a little more at ease, something which she was pretty glad about. It was hard enough to try to be herself - whoever that was - around anyone, let alone someone who wasn't themself around her. Blair just looked at him as a response. He should know by now that she was definitely not normal.

After a few moments, though, a frown came to his face. "Blair?" he said. She looked in his direction again, raising her eyebrows as if to say, 'Yeah?' "Why do you. . .What is it about rumors? Why are they so appealing to you? Is it self-gratification, or just to make someone else feel bad?"

"Well, when I said rumor-bashing just now, I meant destroying rumors. Self-defense," she explained. "I'm pretty sure you've heard about a million rumors about me now. That I do pot, that I actually sleep around and am just pretending to be a virgin, that I'm secretly dating someone, that I have bulimia..." Blair was careful to say bulimia instead of stress-induced-regurgitation, which was the way she usually referred to her 'problem.' "The usual c***. If I don't do damage control they'll get even worse. People make up that stuff mostly to bring me down. Most of them act like they worship me but they're just waiting for me to stumble so they can step on me to get to the top. That's why I don't really tell anyone anything," she finished. "But when I spread rumors..." Blair hesitated, thinking about it. She knew exactly why she spread rumors. It was because she liked the sense of power it gave her, the power of having someone's reputation in her hand, and having the power to destroy it with a few words. If she couldn't have power over her family or her body, she figured she was entitled to that power. But she couldn't exactly say that to anyone, let alone Oliver, with his Seventh Heaven-y advice and good morals. "Self-defense," she said. "The best defense is a good offense," she explained. "If I don't spread rumors, the ones about me will just get worse and worse...as if they're not already bad enough. It's good to have people be a little afraid of me."

These words were the truth, but she had omitted a few details - the whole power thing, for one, and also the fact that some of the rumors were true...It ocurred to her what it said about herself, that she was being more of herself with Oliver than she'd been with anyone for a long time, and yet she wasn't telling him several very crucial details. She wondered if she could find anyone she could share her whole self with, because right now, it seemed she could only share part of herself with some people. To her friends - the term 'friends' being used loosely - she showed the side that was not afraid to step on a few people to get to the top. To the average students at BNHS - the ones who weren't in Blair's posse - she took out her frustrations on, being catty and mean to them and thinking about her mother at the back of her head. To Oliver she showed the vulnerable side, the one that yearned for approval, and the one that wasn't as evil as she made herself out to be.

But there were sides to her that she would not - could not - share with anyone. But then again those were the sides she wished would disappear...

Oliver Vandrose

He watched while Blair explained the rumor mill in great detail, his eyes wide and her words spilled out into the open air. She explained her need to squash whatever was being said about her, about her need for power, which Oliver had already partially guessed. But it felt like she left out some very vital details, and though he really wanted to know the [whole story, asking to break down her protective barrier even more seemed like a surefire way to end up regretting even starting the conversation. He let it slide, and when she finished speaking, he sighed, shaking his head.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "It still doesn't make sense to me. But I guess I'm one of those people who doesn't care what's being said about me, so I figure if I let it go, whoever is talking will eventually shut up." He glanced down at her with a wry smile. "I guess I'm essentially a cheesy person." He laughed quietly for a moment, before returning his attention to the beach, which had snuck up on them faster than he had expected.The rhythmic, coordinated pulse of lights and music almost made conversation impossible, and the flashing, whirling brightness made the headache that Oliver had successfully coaxed away threatene to return. He squinted against the light and glanced down at Blair.

"Well, here we are." He nodded once, then added. "I should probably get going," he said, looking out across the mass of people. "Unless you needed something else?" he hesitantly added; he was afraid she woul come up with some reason for him to stay, and waited with bated breath for her reply. Although, perhaps it wouldn't be that bad. Blair's not as evil as she seems, he thought to himself.

Blair Vanderbilt

Before she knew it, they were back near the party. She supposed she should dismiss Oliver now - she couldn't risk people seeing them together - at least, not unless she wanted a bunch of 'Blair lost it to Oliver' rumors floating around. But then again, there'd already been rumors about her losing it to every other guy in the school - would this one really make a difference?

Blair brushed this thought out of her head. Every rumor mattered.

"Well, here we are," she heard Oliver say beside her. "I should probably get going. Unless you needed something else?"

A friend, she wanted to say. But she didn't say that. She'd already shared too much of herself than was wise with Oliver. He'd done a lot of sharing, too - albeit unwillingly - but still. "No, I'm good," she said. "Thank you." Blair looked into his eyes, her own eyes clear and soft.

"Blair!" she heard a shrieky female voice say. She cringed. She was caught. "We've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?"

She turned around sharply, her eyes going from clear and soft to smoky and icy and smoldering - a combination that few could pull off - in an instant as she looked at her cronies. "Nowhere," she said in a voice that told them clearly that she didn't want to be asked any questions. "Let's go." Blair turned to one of them. "Once we're there, get me a bellini, fast."

As they walked, Blair turned back around to Oliver. "Sorry; bye," she mouthed and then turned back, Ice Queen once more.

Blair's done here.

Oliver Vandrose

She watched as Blair slipped away with her cohorts latched at her sides; she turned to look at him with that cruel look in her eyes that she reserved for the rest of humanity and mouthed two words.

"Sorry; bye." As if the last ten or fifteen minutes hadn't happened, didn't matter; Blair was back to her normal self, and so was he. Which meant the party was another ploy by the popular portion of Bela Nombre to seduce and reduce one another by all means neccessary. And to think, for a moment it had seemed like it could be fun.

Oliver watched Blair disappear into the bustle of the party before turning his back on it all; he disappeared into the forest, darker than a new moon and just as meaningless.

Oliver has left the beach.