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kersenCLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS had read a sign on Jazzmin's front door for over a month, and it had been lifted less than a week ago. There hadn't actually been any renovations, though Kersen had had someone slap on a new coat of paint and brought in some new furniture to keep up appearances.
The real reason the bar had been closed was that Kersen had been gone. Out of the city, out of England, out of Europe. He'd been through Tibet, Japan, Korea. Following rumors like a ghost. Except a ghost with a trail of dead bodies. And in the end, he had not had any success finding Garrett. His maker had apparently reemerged in the world, and he was leaving a sporadic trail of death behind him. But he would be active for a time and then slip deep underground, and by the time Kersen had his scent, he was gone again.
He had come back to London feeling defeated and on edge and very unlike himself. And so he made an attempt to force himself back into some degree of normalcy, and even more so, the part of him that felt the farthest away from being a vampire. This was all that got him to the bar and into drag.
He wore a red hooded gown, not even bothering with a wig since for the most part the hood stayed down. And when he lowered it, his natural hair was of less interest than red lips and dark eyes anyway.
He was shorthanded, so could be found that evening behind the bar, at the door, making rounds, and at the piano. But there was a good crowd, and the music from inside was welcoming through the open door of the bar.
The real reason the bar had been closed was that Kersen had been gone. Out of the city, out of England, out of Europe. He'd been through Tibet, Japan, Korea. Following rumors like a ghost. Except a ghost with a trail of dead bodies. And in the end, he had not had any success finding Garrett. His maker had apparently reemerged in the world, and he was leaving a sporadic trail of death behind him. But he would be active for a time and then slip deep underground, and by the time Kersen had his scent, he was gone again.
He had come back to London feeling defeated and on edge and very unlike himself. And so he made an attempt to force himself back into some degree of normalcy, and even more so, the part of him that felt the farthest away from being a vampire. This was all that got him to the bar and into drag.
He wore a red hooded gown, not even bothering with a wig since for the most part the hood stayed down. And when he lowered it, his natural hair was of less interest than red lips and dark eyes anyway.
He was shorthanded, so could be found that evening behind the bar, at the door, making rounds, and at the piano. But there was a good crowd, and the music from inside was welcoming through the open door of the bar.
