Nasimine (Human-Shape)
The human-formed Lucain was lean and wiry, strutting through the dismal streets. A golden locket bounced on his pale chest, shining metal wrapped around a blood-red stone: glistening and real and taunting the dangerous Slums to claim it. Because, despite the way he flaunted his treasure so openly, the boy did not look like a challenge. He was tall, yes, but slender; lean in a manner that didn't suggest great strength. His hair was a ragged mop, but fairly tame, and obviously clean. His slacks, black as the tips of cherry-red hair, were pleated and as high in quality as the shirt he had folded over a bent arm. Pampered, his look seemed to say. In the language of this place, such a look suggested easy pickings.
Maybe the boy had been lucky so far. But maybe, instead, those who dared to attack were only put off my something familiar in his icy blue eyes - something mad, even twisted. Something that, like the locket on his chest, dared them to come.
For as the boy who walked beside Nasimine knew, the shirtless son spoiled for a fight when he was in good spirits. And, having just come from a successful kill, the boy was in very good spirits indeed. "Drunks are easy. Aren't they, Iah?" He grinned toothily at his brother, baring fangs still red with supper's blood. Nas had no problem letting it drip down his chin the way it did, a drop landing on the locket's head. Dinner had been a poor drunkard - and as a result? The vampire was a little buzzed, too.