AN:

As a not-so-well-known author, I suppose no one noticed when I left. Well, anyway, for all of you are going "who the hell is this crazy ass-crack" with your rolling eyes, I have left and have come back, hopefully with actual skill. Yay.

I've been having these weird dreams of Vampire Knight, which is kinda creepy, since I haven't read it in a while and it requires an immeasurable amount of obsession to dream about a manga. Last time I read it, the plot was going down the drain. Well how do you expect a long-ass manga to continue without ending crappily like Twilight? Anyway, I've apparently developed a fatal syndrome of laziness, so I decided not to read the manga anymore and instead just go and wiki what's happened so far. But I'm starting this story sometime in the early middle section, so what the hell, I'll just keep going until I have to obey the plot of the original story.

Oh, sorry, I sound like a really crappy writer, don't I? Huh. I get this a lot. Wonder why.

Sarcasm is so delicious.

Okay, I'll stop now. But thanks for reading. If you did. Reviewing is helpful, although I feel like I'm going to get more hate mail than appreciation. Oh well, just have to write better.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and sleep. Enjoy. Maybe.

Birds of Paradise

Rating: M

Author:

Summary:

When you're a sought-after pureblood from a bloodline that supposedly disappeared, you've got a lot of obstacles in your way. Most people really don't want you alive, and, well, drama ensues. Being busy enough as a model and actress, Claire Hanadaki also has to deal with learning to live as a pureblood. She needs to be refined, polite, elegant... Pfft. As if Claire would accept living like that.

PROLOGUE

A pool of bronzed chocolate locks of silky hair mingling on the couch, a shower of hungry lingering touches, a strong, vivid, unwavering and fiery lust...

She bent down, over him, as the two beauties lay on the leather futon. Their eyes burned with the same unbelievably recognizable flame of hungry desire as their lips met, not in a gentle, shy kiss of a first love but a dangerously wild, crushing passion. The two paused to breathe, gasping for air as they knew they would desperately need it.

In a swift, fluid motion, he pushed her back until his position became dominant. With a knowing smirk, he gave her smooth, vulnerable collarbone a heated lick, to which she replied with a thirsty moan.

"I know your sweet spots all too well, Victoria," he murmured huskily. In an instant, the two had shed their outer garments, the woman wearing nothing but revealing, lacy lingerie and the man in only a pair of boxers with a suggestive bulge.

"That delicious toy in your pants," Victoria purred, tucking a lock of coppery coffee hair behind her ear, "let me have it, Master Alex."

The man chuckled and leaned in, closer to her, "Little Kitty want some milk?" Slowly, tantalizingly, he left reddening kiss-marks down her neck, eyes predator-like, deadly and heated. But the woman's topaz orbs showed the same emotion, no, she wouldn't fall prey to this beauty yet, not here. Coolly, she put her arms around his neck and pushed until she was, again, dominant. "Kitty wants what Kitty has earned," she drawled. "Oh, is Kitty not going to beg this ti me?" the man, Alex, taunted smoothly, running a slim hand through his obsidian hair, "I thought I had taught Kitty better than this."

A loud thud of a purse was heard somewhere in the distance, followed by the heavy slam of a door, and then sudden, eerie footsteps. Soon after came a loud and deafening screech...

"I TOLD YOU ALREADY, GO FUCK EACH OTHER IN A ROOM OR SOMETHING!"

The lust in the atmosphere immediately dissolved from the concentrated levels of frustration radiating from the girl who had just entered the mansion. A petite, jet-haired girl, she stood awkwardly in the cream-tiled hallway, in front of the steamy lovers, cursing and snarling threats at the lovebirds. The fuming, child-like woman threw something at the two- a bag filled with packs of condoms, it seemed- and flipped the pair off, pacing back and forth in immeasurable fury.

Still, the couple lay there, suspended in time; they stared blankly at the pixie girl as if their minds could not process what had previously happened.

But apparently the girl had already reached her limit.

A series of screams and cries could be heard from Mansion 102.

And this would mark the eighteenth time the neighbors mistook the action for an early Halloween party and, unfortunately, thought it would be a good idea to attend.

*Î*

The short, jet-haired girl shoved the two upstairs, continuously hissing "Have you no shame?" and "I don't want your cock juice on my couch!" until the kissing lovers were forced into a fortunately nearby bedroom. She slammed the door furiously, pressing her palms against her ears for fear of having to hear the moans and growling and pleas and-

"Oh my god," the girl cried as she stormed down the stairs, nearly tripping in irritation, "quit it with the sex sounds!"

To which the man and woman replied with a heated growl simultaneously, "If we're having passionate sex, you're definitely going to hear it!" and continued on with the rough pounding, which the girl thought would shake the mansion apart. She was familiar with the situation since it happened nearly every day, but, nonetheless... She slammed her forehead into the nearest wall.

"I hate living with those two," she cursed. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." As she pulled a simple flip-phone out of her denim jean pocket, the girl stalked over to pale blue kitchen across the mahogany-wood spiral staircase. The cheerful wall decor of flowers and butterflies seemed to mock her shamelessly until the girl tripped over her own two feet in the midst of her glaring contest with a giant purple sunflower. Claire Hanadaki let a long string of curses escape her lips again before dialing the oddly familiar number of her grandfather-like modeling agent.

"Hello? Yo, Old Man Ichijo, you there?" She twirled a lock of inky hair until her legs decided that pacing around the room would be a more entertaining thing to do.

"Miss Hanadaki, you called?" the voice sounded from the other end of the line, "You sound agitated; has anything happened recently?"

"They're fucking again."

"..."

Claire suppressed a snicker as she pictured Asato Ichijo's upset face.

The girl heaved an irritated sigh as she balanced the cell on her shoulder. Her pacing stopped as soon as she neared the sleek refridgerator. Claire's starving eyes suddenly became blank, gaping holes- embarrassing sex and irritation erased from her mind, with only the thought of... Yogurt. Her left hand seemed to have a life of it's own, launching itself towards the stainless steel fridge door and swinging it open with ease and, soon after, the other, which had also recently gained its very own heart (if she weren't in a trance, Claire would snort and mutter something about CareBears right now), reached in to pull out a carton of the oh-so-delicious, limited-edition... Vanilla-Peach Activia Yogurt. But then, in an instant, the petite girl was suddenly brought down to Earth. She pondered for a second, wondering if she was supposed to want blood more that yogurt; after all, she was a vampire, wasn't she? But then she quickly shook the thought away: Claire had been raised originally as a human and, even until now, still acted like one although she was a pureblooded vampire; there was no need to worry about such little things at the moment, anyway.

"But anyway," the girl continued as she tugged a cabinet open to grab a spoon, "about Japan. When're we leaving?"

"In another two hours, Miss Hanadaki," came the reply. "I advise you go shower and pack your things. Refresh your Japanese."

The dark-haired pixie viciously ripped off the wrapper of the plastic ACTIVIA can and dunked her spoon in to relieve the anger that quickly flooded her mind after she escaped the Yogurt Wonderland (that she previously would not mind dying in). She frowned slightly as reality slammed an ax into the back of her head, reminding her that her little brother and his lover were currently fucking eachother just upstairs and, considering the fact that the two had pureblood stamina, perhaps would not stop until she murdered one of the two.

"Yogurt again, Miss Hanadaki?"

Claire hadn't noticed how noisily she was gulping the treat down until Ichijo prompted her.

"Mmmm? Ugh, yebluu," the girl mumbled, mouth spilling with the creamy delicacy. She swallowed. "You said that I'm supposed to be all lady-like when filming the movie. Can't pig out there, so might as well enjoy the crap now. And by the way, my name's Claire. For the fucking sixteenth time."

"Please refrain from your usual vulgar speech in the Academy, Miss."

"Ah, to hell with it. You know I've got no idea as to how to curse in Japanese, nothing's going to happen at Cross Academy," the girl muttered, again stuffing her face with the peach-flavored yogurt. She was soon finished and opened the refrigerator (which only consisted of eggs, avocadoes, and, yes, you guessed it, more yogurt) to grab another serving.

"You always find a way, Miss Hanadaki."

"Bah, whabe'er, ah be fah." The girl gulped down another carton.

"Gain another pound in these two hours and I will refuse to speak with you, Miss. You know how weight is an important facet of show buisiness."

"Penis to you, too."

A long pause at the other end of the line. Asato Ichijo was such a party-pooper.

"...Good day. I expect to see you ready soon," came the uncomfortable reply from the other end of the line.

Claire's index finger pressed the glowing red button on her phone before shutting it closed. She heaved a sigh, staring at the plain cell. "I want a new one," came the inevitable, quiet whine to herself. Slipping it back into her pocket, the girl threw the silver spoon between her fingers into the nearby sink and shoved the multiple yogurt cartons into an already brimming trash-can.

"ALEX, YOUR BITCH CAN DO THE DISHWASHING TODAY!" she yelled towards the ceiling, imagining the irritated look on Mr. Ichijo's face.

Miss Hanadaki heard a muffled grunt in response and a few moans. She rolled her black orbs, brushing her dark side-bangs away from her face. Claire stared outside. The afternoon sun blazed stubbornly, bright and irritating to the eyes; it seemed to mock her too, along with the wall decor. Claire sniffed, and, feeling ashamed of being made fun of by painted sunflowers and bees and a sun, she gave the group the finger before trudging upstairs to the bathroom for a shower.

*Î*

The gray-haired senior entered the mansion without knocking, leaving his tan leather boots at the entrance carpet labeled "WELCOME." He rushed upstairs, footsteps nearly inaudible, past the room where the lovers were, ignoring the intense moaning and distracting creaking of a bed. He kept his silent stride until he came across a pale yellow door with noisy, muffled radio songs blasting at full volume from behind it. The senior placed a slightly wrinkled hand on the doorknob, pushing the door open casually with no hesitation whatsoever. Screaming music pooled into the atmosphere, nearly deafening his sensitive ears, while an array of blindingly-bright colors on painted walls made him wish for a second that he'd never got involved with Claire Hanadaki.

"Miss Hanadaki," he said, as loudly as he could manage, to the raven-haired girl who was currently laying on her bed with her damp, shoulder-length hair tied up in a towel as she painted her toenails a tropical, sunny, color, "In thirty minutes we will depart for the airplane. Continue packing and save your nonsense for later."

The girl paused the toenail painting to respond with an annoyed look and stuck her tongue at the older man, then continued to dip the brush into the neon orange polish before swiping it over her pinky toe.

The gray-haired man, Ichijo, stared at her. Gentle, cherry lips moving softly in sync with the loud lyrics being sung by the artist on the radio, head nodding ever so slightly in tune to the music, a rebellious strand of satiny hair finding its way back to her face instead of behind her ear...

How irritating she was.

"I've already notified you that you are a pureblood, and yet you still act so childish?"

Claire twitched. Did the old man have to bring that up? Ichijo did this on purpose, he did, knowing that she hated being reminded this- and with good reason, too. Her mind jolted back into the past, remembering the not-so-wanted memories that she'd tried to keep locked up in a little Pandora's Box.

"T-to think that my modeling agent," the girl stammered, failing to make herself seem intimidating, "would b-be some disgusting old monster... I knew that you were cold and quiet, but I never thought you'd be a fucking monster."

The elastic band holding her obsidian hair together snapped suddenly, earning a scared flinch from the child. She backed up, shaking, into a wall, hissing as her shoulder-blades came into contact with the icy surface.

"You are only here because you could not keep your show buisiness a secret, Miss Hanadaki. Isn't the revelation of your modeling the reason why your parents abandoned you?" a voice sneered.

The girl looked around frantically; she knew who this cold growl came from, but she could not see...

A gray-haired man appeared in front of her in smooth silence. He smirked, pointed fangs gleaming in the eerie light of the midnight moon. The dark-haired child bit her lip, refusing to let a frightened cry escape her mouth; she blinked back burning tears of humiliation and despair, desperately hoping that they would just go away. The girl dug her her fingers into her thigh, the terror and anxiety numbing whatever pain she would have normally experienced. She hissed, realizing that the familiar feeling of a hot, sticky liquid dribbling down her leg only confirmed that this was, in fact, not a just a nightmare.

"What does stating the obvious accomplish?" the girl's bottom lip quivering slightly despite the teeth that were clamped down on it, "what the hell do you want from me?"

The man's smirk only grew until it stretched from ear to ear. "You know what I want. I only want you to know."

Her eyes widened, pupils becoming pin points in absolute fear. Her hands left her thighs and flew up immediately to her ears, flinging the blood on her fingertips across the room as she scrambled to shield her ears. She didn't want to hear this, she didn't...

"Miss Hanadaki," the man taunted, "don't waste that precious fluid. Pure blood is quite sought after, don't you know?"

The girl turned around, back facing the cloaked man, and slammed her head against the cold, concrete wall. She cringed from the hurt but continued to do so, nonetheless. Anything to escape this hell.

"Where should I begin? Ah, I know... Let's start with... you," the senior growled, pulling out a thin pile of papers put together with a paperclip and read, "Four foot nine, ninety-one pounds, and twelve years old. Chin-length black hair, black eyes, olive skin. Likes sleeping, eating, hanging out with friends. Dislikes work, getting up from bed, and using effort. You live a comfortable life, don't you?"

The girl had already lost the energy to cover her ears. Her eyesight was blurring...

"Special skills: singing, acting, drawing, instruments. Hobbies: painting and sketching. Lives with mother, father, and eleven-year-old brother, Alex." The man paused. "You were under the protection of your family, weren't you? You knew I couldn't make a move then... But you slipped up." He laughed once, grim chuckle void of emotions.

"Your family left you out in the rain, Miss Hanadaki, when they realized you had been secretly modeling. Right? But you didn't mind. Not so much, at least. Miss Hanadaki, you know about the tradition in your family about marrying the relatives. This is practiced as to keep your blood pure... Did you think this was merely a family belief? No, you knew. Wasn't that why you let your family abandon you?"

The mention of being disowned by her own family reawakened the headstrong blaze in the girl. She snarled instinctively; she couldn't think of anything else to do. Words escaped her dry, chapped lips: she knew she would have to wait for saliva to return before she could speak again.

"Come, little thing," leered the gray-haired man, "who would have ever guessed that one from the Hanadaki bloodline would become so pitiful... so vulnerable? Miss Hanadaki, you are the older sister of the heir, Alex Hanadaki, to the Hanadaki bloodline, an old and lost family name of pureblood society. Your branch of the family had moved to America several generations ago, powers sealed so that they would not be found out by another vampire that was set out for revenge. " The cloaked man stepped forward, ignoring the fear in the dark orbs of the young girl before him. "You found out, didn't you? But you weren't supposed to. Not yet. But that is what happens when a pureblooded family loses its luster. You have no one else to blame except your own relatives and ancestors. Pathetic."

Anger quickly healed the girl's aching throat. "Shut up," she snapped furiously, "go suck a cock before you tell me what's pathetic or not! What kind of old, shitty, ass-crack corners a girl in the middle of the night? What're you gonna do, big guy?"

But the man didn't seem surprised. "A potty-mouth, are we?" he smirked. With a snap of his aged fingers, dark figures entered the already shadowed room.

"Shall we get rid of this lost little puppy?" their voices taunted. "Doesn't trash belong in the garbage can?"

A sudden heavy haze of weariness drifted over the girl; her eyelids drooped weakly and her breathing slowed noticeably. She realized what was happening and fought to keep her eyes open, but the knot of horror that came with the red hue of blood she saw- she was sure it was her own- forced her eyes to slam shut as tightly as they could. Her jaw clenched and clothes drenched in icy sweat, the girl froze, trembling slightly, for as long as possible, until consciousness escaped her. Nothing was left on her mind except for for fear and anger, two emotions that she would have to get used to if she were to progress alive.

Claire blinked away the memories and looked up at Ichijo to snort sarcastically, "What, I have to act perfect all the time? No one's watching, and all those leech freaks (apparently she didn't care much for other vampires) are in Japan. I won't need to deal with any crap for fifteen more hours, let me have my fun."

Ichijo's perpetual frown worsened. "Purebloods are highly revered," he deadpanned after turning the music volume down (to which Claire responded with a grumble), "there will be a large amount of vampires to serve you in the academy. Your childish actions may bring shame to your family name."

The girl, deciding that it would take far too much effort to come up with even a slightly decent comeback, merely replied, "The agency said it was cute."

"The agency does not matter. They do not know your secret and, buisiness-wise, you are shooting the movie in an entirely different country with an entirely different company, Miss Hanadaki."

Miss Hanadaki pretended she didn't hear this and continued to paint her nails. "My crap's next to the mirror. I'll be out once this polish dries," she said, referring to her luggage and her nails and pointed, with one hand, at the pile of luggage near bulls' eye shaped mirror, and used the other to rapidly fan her toes. She giggled slightly when she imagined how stupid she looked in her moronic position. The faint sound of a popping vein interrupted her musing; Claire glanced at Ichijo. Big mistake.

The disturbed look on his face would stay etched into her mind to return as repeating nightmares. Claire shuddered. Oops.

Mr. Ichijo left the room briefly and returned in silence only a second after with two butlers dressed in black, who bowed simultaneously before picking up the suitcases and bags; they made no complaint about the luggage close to spilling out of the leather bags. The two left, leaving Ichijo and Claire alone with quiet, angsty love-songs and the stench of nail polish. This didn't at all contribute to making the atmosphere any less awkward or more convenient to breathe through.

Ichijo cleared his throaght. "Your academy uniform will be picked up at the fruit stand near Terminal B at the Japanese airport," the graying man stated blankly, "and the film cast will meet you there with the movie necessities. You are scheduled for three hours before I pick you up to depart to Cross Academy. I expect you to be ready for Japan within another few minutes, Miss Hanadaki." And with that, the older man swiftly exited the splatter-painted room in silence. Guess he didn't like the music on the radio. Claire shrugged; she rather liked Ke$ha's music.

Immediately after his retreat, the girl tugged the towel off her head and made her way over to an orange closet, fumbling through for something suitable to wear on a plane.

And then actually realized what had just happened and broke out into an uncontrollable laughter, fighting the urge to run after Ichijo and find some other disturbing way to further annoy him.

"You're sick, Claire. Sick," she scolded herself through the intense guffawing, "Why the fuck," she paused to breath, "is it so fun to annoy that damn old jerk-off?"

Five minutes later, when she had finally calmed down and found something to wear she stared at herself in the mirror: a short girl (she'd only grown about an inch and a half in the past two years) with messy, dark night hair that settled barely past her shoulders; she wore a sleek navy camisole under a tight-fitting, slightly see-through, camo shirt. Paired with loose, cropped khakis and two laced black converses, Claire looked as if she were going somewhere... remotely tropical. Her sun-kissed skin and the sunglasses hanging from her nibbling teeth contributed to that. Still, she shrugged off the fact that she looked like an absolute idiot and threw the shades on, along with a light green jacket and a faux fur scarf, and departed from the room.

...And then returned a few minutes later to dig through every pair of jeans she owned, because apparently she'd forgotten to take her phone out of her pocket when she was changing and she really, really needed the damn thing like a bitch at the moment.

*Î*

Miss Hanadaki barged into the room down the hallway without notice, interrupting the couple who were going at the sixth round of dirty, dirty, sex. She ignored the sticky, wet, toys on the floor and the position the lovers were in.

"...I'm leaving," Miss Hanadaki said uncomfortably, leaning on the cherry-oak door frame.

The two lovebirds blinked, partially wondering what Claire was wearing and partially curious if they could continue their intercourse in front of her (which would probably earn them a week of being locked out of the house, because it had happened before and it wasn't very pleasant).

"For Japan," the girl clarified, shifting her weight to her left leg.

"Oh," the dark-haired man in the room answered sheepishly. He ran a hand through his pitch-black locks of silky hair.

"Coming back to celebrate your 17th birthday, though, right?" the bronze-haired woman, Victoria, asked, finally deciding to pull her wet finger out of herself. Claire tried her best not to watch the disturbing action.

The whole scene was... inconvenient (could that describe even half of it?), what with Alex looking as if he'd thrust into the woman at any given moment. The way the couple spoke so casually to Claire (as if they were all in an entirely different environment) did not make the event any less troublesome.

"Yeah," Claire answered, swallowing down the feeling of slight embarrassment. She dealed with this crap every day, why the hell was it so weird now?

"Well," Alex, the obsidian scalp, got up from his position of straddling the beautiful Victoria, "call us once you get to Japan. And don't let me see any fang marks when you come back; I hear those Level E's will try to take anything these days."

He tried to give the pixie girl a hug, but, seeing as he was all sticky and slicked with sweat and another unmentionable fluid, Claire pulled back. Instead, she leaned forwards on her toes to give Alex's forehead a kiss, trying desperately to avoid any spots with red kiss marks and saliva. Victoria made her way to the door, waist-length copper hair flowing gorgeously, and gave Claire a suggestive smirk.

"We'll see ya next year," the woman said, pulling back her glossy hair.

"Yeah," replied Claire, looking at the couple, who were again in eachother's arms, "Better not see babies around when I come back next March."

The warm, sincere laughter that dissolved any anxiety rang in Claire's ears; how nice it was to see her brother and his bitch smiling along with her.

"Have fun, big sis'," her brother grinned, "Swear we'll keep this place clean."

Miss Hanadaki chuckled again and walked down the hall, ready to make her way downstairs.

"Bye, Claire! Remember to call when you get there!" Victoria yelled, waving her arm as her man did the same.

The petite girl snorted; the brunette bitch was being nice today, wasn't she? Funny, the bimbo was always arguing with her for Alex's attention. But then again, the sister and girlfriend were mortal enemies to start with, so there wasn't much surprise in that. Claire watched as Alex gave his lover a not-so-secret look before the couple sauntered back to the bed in a flirtatious fashion. "Stupid Alex and stupid Victoria," Miss Hanadaki muttered in irritation, albeit the lightness and cheer in her heart told her she felt otherwise.

And with that, she exited down the stairs and out the glassy door in smooth elegance, ready to enter Japan as a new and polished pureblood. Well, almost. She darted back into the house like a bullet to have one last serving of that creamy, tantalizing limited edition Peach-Vanilla yogurt (pretending that Ichijo was not shouting and threatening her in enraged fury, of course).

And then she left.

AN:

And that's the end of the preview. Or prologue. Prologue? Yeah, prologue. (Yay, I spelled it right!)

If you don't mind spending some time to review this, please do. I already have pairings in mind, but feel free to suggest any. We might have a voting thing and I'll somehow make the pairings work... somehow. *eyes glint evilly*

...

Wow. I just read through the prologue and it doesn't seem as if anything happened. Damn. *slams head into desk multiple times*

But, not everything is completely disappointing! I've finished a sketch of Claire Hanadaki and I'm coming up with her Japanese name (because seriously, I don't want the vampires saying Coo-la-yi-roo half the time in this fanfic) and her profile thing. You'll see once I establish a good-enough website ||D - my demented happy-face

Oh well. Please review. I wouldn't mind suggestions on her Japanese first name or the pairing (it'll eventually be AidouxOC, though, just saying *3*).