om_main | Damon and Cereza, Backdated to October 4th

Damon meets Cereza at Evolution, and is instantly entranced. Between talking and flirting, they reveal their powers.

Damon enjoyed nights with live music the most at the bar. There was an energy to the place that seemed to vibrate through the crowd, thrumming from the speakers into the soles of their feet. Evolution would come alive with that energy, both soundwaves and psychic revelry, and it was on those nights that he refueled, walking the crowd, touching here and there, both pimping the place with subtle, compelling suggestions, and stealing bits and pieces of peoples' chi.

These were the nights that he wasn't broken - wasn't hiding, wasn't something to be pitied - but remembered how to live, how to swindle, and how to sweet-talk; the master of his own domain.

She couldn't have said exactly where she'd heard about the bar, but it was the kind of information that traveled easily. Considering the number of students who'd apparently been, Cereza could only assume it was an exception from the country's frankly ridiculous drinking age. At the very least, it was something to see that wasn't the school building, nice as it was. And she'd always wanted to see New York.

She seemed to have picked a good night for it anyway, given the sheer level of sound as she opened the door. For all that, though, it was calmer inside than she would have expected. Crowded, yes, but a fairly tame crowd. Though given the clubs she'd been to, perhaps it wasn't a fair comparison.

The heels she'd decided on for the evening put her a good head at least above the majority of the other patrons, male or female, which made it rather easy to spot the bar. Clearly the place to start, and she headed over with an easy sway, moving gracefully through the crowd.

Rarely was Damon ever truly surprised. He was an observer. He saw things coming from a mile away, and he prepared for them. That was his biggest secret after all - he was a massive control freak - and if he couldn't control the situation, then he faked it.

Tonight, however, he found himself staring at the woman who'd just entered the bar, and, more importantly, at the brief afterimage of brilliant technicolor wings that loomed within her dazzling aura. He hadn't seen anything of its kind since Felix or Betsy, and then, only when they were manifesting power and confidence. For some reason, it struck his hunger with a desperate note, and he found himself unable to look away.

And if there was anything that Cereza knew, it was when she was being looked at. She tossed her hair over her shoulder --even confined to a high ponytail as it was, there was still a lot of it -- and turned slowly to search the room. And then promptly met the eyes on her dead-on, one eyebrow lifting in arch amusement behind the frames of her glasses. Being coy could be entirely overrated at times.

Nails bit down into his hand and he plastered on a practiced, charming smile. He had to be careful with new mutants. Most of them seemed to come from the school (which he did not need to cross right now) and those who didn't could be working for agencies like the Facility. He had to walk a fine line between neutrality and service in his line of business...despite the fact that he wanted to grab her by the back of her neck and suck that astral energy dry.

Damon leaned on the bar, motioning to the bartender to bring him another two drinks, then glanced back over at his new friend, giving a slight nod of his head in invitation.

Her eyebrow lifted higher, but with an easy smirk Cereza sauntered in the gentleman's direction. "Was there something you needed?" She asked as she drew up along side him, all languid words in a posh English accent.

Damon offered her an Old Fashioned, the aged whiskey a deep golden amber in the glass. "Complements of Evolution. Consider it a welcome gift, for your first time."

"Oh, the welcome wagon is it?" She delicately reached to take the glass, sipping from it while never breaking eye contact with him. "Quite a fancy way to greet new guests."

He had to duck closer to converse with her over the sound of the music and smiled slowly at the remark. "Well, I have a feeling that you're something special."

Cereza gave him a long look, amused and knowing at the same time, and laughed. "Now flattery is definitely the way to a girl's heart. Salud," she added, toasting him with the glass before taking a longer drink.

"Saluti," he countered with a smile, toasting her and taking a deep sip of the whiskey, humming as it warmed through his blood. "Damon Salvatore. What brings a beautiful woman like you to my fine establishment?"

Ah, Italian. The gentleman was becoming more and more interesting. "Curiosity," she said with a hint of a smile behind the rim of her glass. "One hears all sorts of rumors."

"All good, I hope," Damon hummed, motioning toward a booth in the back that he kept reserved for himself.

"Well," Cereza said, gesturing for him to lead the way, "I certainly approve of your alcohol policies so far."

"Well, considering most of my clientele is under the age of twenty-one, it seemed rather redundant to stick to federal law," he agreed as he eased into a bench seat.

"A corrupter of the innocent, I see," she said as she slid into the bench opposite him. "How very naughty."

"I've definitely never been accused of being a savior," Damon set his drink down, leaning on his arms as he let his gaze wander. She was certainly new. Certainly different. And that psychic signature alone had him intrigued. "I didn't catch your name."

She smiled slightly, settling in as languidly as a person could on a bench. "Cereza."

"Cereza," Damon repeated, testing the name on his tongue. "Spaniard or South American?"

"Spanish," she said with a flash of an approving grin. "And you're the first not to accuse me of being English of some stripe, so well done you."

"The toast and the name gave it away," Damon admitted, one side of his lips twitching up in real pleasure at her personality. He definitely liked her. "Though I admit the accent throws a guy off."

"The goal of learning a language is to get the accent right, no?" Her smile widened quite a bit. "I suppose I could try for your country's, if you think there's a need."

"Oh, so you're looking for my approval now?" A slow, predatory grin spread across his lips, ice-blue eyes practically shining.

"Well you are providing the alcohol," Cereza said with an arch look, "it seems prudent to stay in your good graces."

"You'd be the first one to think so," he hummed thoughtfully.

"Oh?" She lifted an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.

Damon rolled a shrug. "Are you a student of Xavier's?"

"I am," Cereza agreed with an amused look.

New, then, he thought, studying her curiously. But somehow not as on edge as most of the new students seemed to be. She was infinitely more confident in herself. "I have something of a reputation," he confessed, though it wasn't entirely a secret.

"Oh, I do love a good rumor," she said, bracing her elbow on the table and leaning her chin on her hand to look at him intently. "Regale me."

Twisting the ring around his finger, Damon narrowed a curious look at her for a moment, then quirked a small smile. "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours."

"Gossip and a chance to show off? Darling," Cereza said, a sly smile spreading across her face, "you'll spoil me."

"I can certainly try. Should we start with your aura, or do you even know it's there?" he drawled.

"My aura?" She echoed archly. "You'll need to be a bit more specific than that."

He waved a hand in a 'whatever' swipe. "Your astral marker. The wings."

"Oh that." Cereza waved her free hand dismissively. "I'm aware, yes. Are you another one who goes traipsing around the plane, then?"

Damon snorted softly. "Not anymore..." Although a little dimple appeared in his forehead. If he could still see after-images of the other plane, that had to mean he was still connected to it in some way. Which was interesting. Maybe something to talk about with Braddock. "I guess you could say...if the other plane is a place, and you're the mode of transportation, I can tap into your navigation system."

The look she gave him was somewhat curious even as she smiled. "I doubt that, a bit," Cereza said with a hint of a tease. "I'm given to understand that my mod of transportation," she gave particular, amused emphasis to the phrase, "is more literal than most."

One dark eyebrow lifted sky-ward at her assessment. "Ominous."

"Hardly," she said with a throaty laugh. "Shall I show you?"

That gaze narrowed on her. "I told you, I can't travel there anymore."

Cereza gave him a sly look and straightened up. "Who said anything about you?" She glanced around briefly, measuring, before she deftly reached up to trace a the thin glowing lines of her circle into the air. With one last amused look cast back at Damon, she slid gracefully into it, her physical body vanishing as she passed through.

Damon wasn't ashamed to say that his mouth dropped open. Lips parted at least, but no jaw on the floor. He was composed enough for that. He stared after her, at the thin glowing lines and her utter disappearance from reality and forced his stomach not to twist up in knots, his fingers straying to his ring again. Weighing, reminding, familiarizing. The texture was right. The engraving was right. His ring was real, so this was too.

"Well damn," he breathed out, unsure how to even contemplate a woman who could move directly from one realm into the other, corporeal form vanishing into a realm he'd only ever seen in his dreams and those of others.

Wings fluttering, Cereza gave a pleased little smile, however difficult it was to see it on her astral form. She did so love being appreciated. His surprise did, at least, give her a chance to study her new friend in turn. Unsurprising that he wouldn't be one of the colorless masses she tended to come across, even if he wasn't quite as real to her at the moment as say, Felix would have been. Also strangely unsurprising that what she could see of him could have put a Michelangelo piece to shame, stark and beautifully carved.

As lovely an image as that was, Cereza only lingered a moment before fluttering over to Damon's side of the table and tracing another circle. She stepped through it just as easily -- my what practice could do -- to settle right back into her physical body and slip onto the bench seat at his side. "I've always found seeing is believing, hm?" She said with a teasing smirk.

Smooth as ever, Damon slid sideways, giving her a little more room on the bench seat next to him, though he didn't bother to put enough room as to keep their thighs from brushing against one another. "Clearly, you are something entirely unique," he noted, and didn't bother to keep the awe from his voice. She certainly seemed to already understand her own worth.

"I'd certainly hope so," she said, making herself comfortable, apparently entirely unconcerned by the occasional brush of leg. "Being anything else sounds exceedingly boring. But now, my sculpted friend, it is most definitely your turn."

Damon raised a brow at the sculpted comment, then spread his hands. "Are you willing to give me permission, or should I call some other sucker over here?"

"Depends," Cereza said with an arch look of her own, "on what exactly I'm giving you permission for."

"Oh I'm sorry, I thought this was show, not tell," his lips pulled up on one side in a smirk, eyes flickering.

A challenge, was it? Far be it from Cereza to turn down one of those. "Alright," she said, flashing a knowing look at him, "what do you need?"

Damon's pupils dimmed to near slivers, his eyes ice and snow as he pressed the compulsion, gently, urging, testing the waters of this new psi. "Why don't you tell me that you love me."

"I love you," Cereza agreed easily, then blinked in a bit of surprise at herself.

His lips twitched in amusement. "One portion of my ability, at least. I can...encourage the mind to do what I want."

"You can compel," she translated, one eyebrow lifting. "How interesting."

"Is it?" Damon rolled a shrug. "Don't worry. I have a policy. No compelling beautiful women without their express permission. At least, as long as there isn't something I want them to forget..."

"Oh now," Cereza said, a faint smirk curving at one side of her mouth, "you can't be that bad at it."

He echoed the smirk, an eyebrow going up. "And the claws come out..."

She tossed her hair back, giving him a coy look. "You didn't think that I was tame, did you?"

"Heaven forbid," he murmured. "But in answer to your insinuation? No, I am just that good."

"That's quite a claim," Cereza said, eyes going slightly hooded. "I do hope you can live up to it, for your sake."

Damon raised a brow. Flirting was one thing. He flirted when he breathed. The fact that she was insinuating more? He wasn't sure what to make of that. "Is that so?"

"Well," she said with a hint of over-the-top innocence, "it would be a shame for you to be all talk, wouldn't it?"

"And I'm not," he pointed out.

Cereza snorted in amusement. "So you say."

"And so will you," Damon smiled knowingly.

"Well that's quite the assumption," she said with an arch look.

He reached up, pushing a long lock of hair behind her ear with a small smirk. "Feel free to correct me."

She made a point of concentrating enough to keep her hair completely still, even as she smiled. A girl couldn't give up all her secrets. "I suppose we'll see."