Testing Boundaries (OPEN)

[Aubrey (DELETED 5968)]

Aubrey was so, so sick of the smell of zombie that she had to get out. The goodies from Bath and Body Works had been amazing and she took refuge in their perfume inside Freyja's apartment each night, but it didn't take long after the killing began before she was nauseous once more. She'd been in there for days and days, knowing nothing but zombies except for brief visits from Pyper and the conversation she'd had with Elliot and her sire. Stir crazy, she decided she had to get out at least for a little while. She'd killed a few of the nasty creatures already that night and it was time for a break.

First, the brunette ran up to Freyja's apartment to take a shower and douse herself in the scent of satsuma, her favourite. She soaped up and rinsed off, then smoothed the body butter over her skin to keep it smooth, all the while avoiding glancing at herself in the mirror. It was an awful habit to try and break since she was so used to looking in the mirror to apply make up, but she couldn't anymore without seeing that undead vision of herself -- reality. So, once she was clean and smelling good she threw on an outfit and her leather jacket and boots, then quickly dabbed on a touch of eyeliner and mascara.

She was out the door moments later and in the elevator, holding her nose to block the smell on the way down. Her fingers carried the scent of the satsuma from when she'd been putting on the lotion, so she focused on that and blocked everything else out on her way out of the Flats and into the open air. She strode quickly, glancing around every so often. The fledgeling was used to being in the Flats and not out in the open, but she wasn't nervous, just hoping for something interesting to happen. After an hour of eventless walking, during which she wasn't accosted by the undead or attacked by anything, she began to get bored.

With a sigh, she moved towards the deserted asylum next to the Flats where she doubted any humans would be lurking. She happened to be right and, with no danger immediately presenting itself, decided to test out the new ability she'd gained only a few nights before. The brunette concentrated, drew up enough energy to manage it and sent a swarm of hissing cockroaches towards an innocent shelving unit across the room and directly in front of her. Aubrey grinned at the sight of it, feeling it looked quite impressive and proud of herself for gaining the power. She'd practice here for a while, then return to the Flats...unfortunately.

{Attire}

[Fable (DELETED 5728)]

Fable was having a tough time. He was just so nice. He couldn’t get why. He had been brought up to be nice by his folks, and his aunt. He didn’t do anything bad, or out of the ordinary – actually the man had a hard time adjusting to the life of a vampire. The idea of harming someone was ridiculous. The Telepath was dragging his feet through the Quarantine Zone. He gaze every now and again would turn to the river that separated Gullsborough and the QZ. He would think about jumping into it – and swimming through to get across to the other side instead of climbing down into the sewers and walking through the horrible stench of dried blood – and rotting corpses. Oh, and the smell of rats. He shook his head.

Corruption. The word was heavy on his mind. He didn’t want to let this get to him – NO. He wouldn’t. He was better than just moping, which is exactly what he was doing. He hadn’t been to his little Antique store in a week. He also needed to speak to Velly at some point, no he needed to focus on getting stronger and not being this fragile, vulnerable person he was being perceived as. That **** would stop right now. Fable will learn not to care, not to open himself to anyone. The man would close himself off.

Pushing himself into the Deserted Asylum. His eyes looked to the old beds, and that damp smell that always filled his nostrils when he came into this building to look for zombies. Right now, he needed to get some **** off his chest – and right now, the only way he wanted to do it was to loose some bullets into the skulls of zombies, ferals – or even mooncalfs. He knew the beasts were in here somewhere, the telepath just had to find them. The man had to feed off contraband blood lately. He couldn’t feed off humans, his fangs. They were all wrong. They weren’t even there anymore. Fable had ripped them out of his mouth in rage a couple of nights back. Yet, they never grew back. Fable had cut off his finger before to see if it would grow back and it did, but his fangs? They never did. Fable was a fangless vampire. Irony. Karma. Whatever you wanted to call it.

He turned a corner and found a brunette unleashed a hoard of, was that cockroaches? They hissed and targeted a shelving unit. Fable frowned. “What did the shelving unit ever do to you, or them?” He said nodding his head to the unit. “What was that thing you did with your hands too?” He didn’t know much about the other paths. He knew he was a telepath, knew Velveteen was Necromancer – Remington was a shadow, and that was all he knew.

[Nikolae]

It had been a long time since Nikolae had ventured in this area, longer than he really wanted to think about. Those sort of thoughts tended to lead him down a disturbing trail that ultimately led to the knowledge that he'd failed. Not as a vampire, no he was certain he'd done everything he'd set out to do as a vampire right up to that current moment. But he'd failed as a human. What had been the culmination of his mortal years? To be trapped in this God-forsaken town with nobody and no one who'd ever known him as a human. He imagined his parents, the ones that had adopted him, had probably long since given up pasting the 'Missing' posters around the neighborhood. He had little but regrets and a general sense of anger left of his humanity. So he didn't know why he'd come to this spot. This place he'd probably ventured as a fledgling, before the years of immortality had worn away what mortality he'd still clung to. But here he was, nonetheless. Contemplating such things - and making plans to change those very outcomes.

It was long past time Nikolae Dragomir learned the source of his existence. Not his vampiric one; he knew exactly who and what Chad Worthington the third was. Not much to write home about there. But his own flesh and blood had come from something he suspected was far more sinister than vampires. Or even fae - at least he hoped so. Those things gave him the creeps, and if they'd had a hand at all in his birth he'd walk right into the sun and never look back.

The Dragon kicked a rusty can across the room idly. He wasn't afraid here - not like he surely had been those early nights as a vampire. He had little if anything to fear, though those Fae did make him weary. The various factions and lineages didn't frighten him though, he simply stayed out of their way and expected the same kindness in return. But perhaps he'd been doing too much of that. Too much 'staying out of the way', enough that he had no idea of the newer faces within the city. The most recent generations of vampires come to bleed into the streets and carry the heavy burden of immortality on their shoulders. The veritable zombie-land wasn't exactly coming full circle, and certainly not 'coming home', but it still felt like a part of him he'd left behind. Maybe a part to reclaim here in the odd little area.

The sound of voices startled him, and that sense of shock brought with it an adrenaline rush and a smile. When was the last time he'd truly been surprised by anything? The Dragon found himself following the voices, pausing to take in the sight of the pair of vampires silently a moment. Just as he'd expected, he didn't recognize either one. There was a twinge of regret there, another almost foreign sensation, and he rested his shoulder against the doorway with arms loosely crossed - the picture of passive peacefulness. He meant these two no harm, though he did find himself wondering if they could take on the more ruthless undead ambling in the streets. He briefly considered drawing the Shadows to him, hiding in plain sight for all intents and purposes, but discarded the idea as quickly as it came though he hoped he wasn't intruding, or even spooking what he had the feeling was a couple of recently turned vampires.

"Yes that's a pretty neat trick." He added with a quirked half-smile. Though allurists were not his favorite sort of vampire - his least favorite truth be told - at least this one wasn't using her 'charms' on other vampires. Not yet anyway. The male seemed to be surprised by the show of ability, and Nikolae bit back the answer to his questions. He almost missed that sense of awe he'd felt the first time he'd stumbled upon a shifted Killer, or seen his long-sleeping Necromancer childe bury herself in the ground. If there was a picture next to the word jaded in the dictionary, he'd probably be the one posing. He stayed leaning against the doorway, though he'd retreat if his presence proved unwanted, and dipped his head slightly in a silent greeting to the frowning male as well.

Outfit

[Aubrey (DELETED 5968)]

When the first wave of insects subsided Aubrey was quick to unleash another, and another, until the room was positively buzzing with the creatures. After their initial attack they carried their fat, shiny and disgusting bodies along the floor towards any cracks and crevices, disappearing in a matter of seconds. Aubrey imagined the sort of effect this attack would have on an opponent and she couldn’t help but grin. She’d always been fascinated with insects growing up in the sticks outside Ajax and now she was putting them to good use.

Her reverie over this new technique was interrupted when she heard a male’s accusatory voice and glanced over her shoulder, a slender eyebrow perking in question. The swarm forgotten, the allurist turned and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, head canting ever so slightly to the side so her auburn hair cascaded down over her shoulder. “The shelving unit was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she said, her voice a melody compared to the hissing, spitting and buzzing of the cockroaches. “Careful, you might find yourself in its place.” She smirked, playfully, green-brown eyes glinting before she cast a wink at him.

She didn’t know what he meant when he asked what she did with her hands and gave him a puzzled look, before her attention was drawn once again by a new male voice. This man seemed less perturbed at her charms and rather at ease with the whole situation, and Aubrey was given the sense that he was older than the both of them. She studied the nonchalant way he leaned against the doorframe and tried to figure him out, all the while buzzing inwardly when he commended her talents. “Thank you,” she said, a grin playing on her painted lips. She glanced between the two gentlemen, half wanting to show them more and half wanting to see what the other paths could do, assuming they were of another path.

“My name is Aubrey,” she offered, awaiting their introductions.

[Mordechai]

Mordechai sat in the corner, wrapped by shadows, watching as the zombies, and a lone feral wandered the lobby. This was the first time he had ever been inside Corvidae Flats. In days of yore when the killer had hunted the Quarantine Zone, it had been just another abandoned building. It seemed now though, that his kind had retaken it. Yeah, there were five or six zombies wandering the first floor, and there was the feral, looking for a meal, but none of them seemed to have figured out the elevator. Usually he sent marie in here to get a few zombie ears, they were slow and awkward, and he had made her good weapons. Ferals were a different matter. If he relaxed on her work uniform, she might do better, but miniskirts and four inch stilettos were the uniform, period. she would just have to learn to stop stumbling so much when the ferals charged.

The order was for Black feral blood, so that meant the killer had to do it himself. Stepping out about ten feet from the wall, Mordechai let the the shadows fall. A nearby zombie reached him first, and a casual backhand sent it careening across the lobby, he had enough ears, and no time to waste. A slow grin crossed his face as the feral charged. Mordechai stood loosely, no weapons drawn, feet braced. As the feral arrived, the seven one, three hundred thirty pound killer slapped its clawing arms away, and grabbing it by the throat and groin, quickly spun flipping it over as he threw it into the wall. His grin grew at the sound of shattering bones. Spinning and following after the flying feral with a grace that belied his size, the killer was on the feral before it had hit the floor.

Spinning it face down, he landed on its spine with both knees, as he heaved backwards on its arms. The feral's elbows touched as its shoulders dislocated, and with one last surge of power Mordechai slammed the heel of his hand into the base of the feral's skull. Quickly he dragged the unconscious feral outside and shut the doors, sealing the zombies inside. Slipping the large bore IV needle into the ferals carotid artery, another smile graced his face as the tubing filled with the precious black blood. Filling vial after vial, Mordechai drained the feral, then with a quick twist snapped its neck. It was a male, so no point in eviscerating it to look for a fadeling. Slipping the vials into his pack he looked at the old deserted asylum next door. He needed a few mooncalf bones as well, and if memory served him, there were usually a few running loose in the asylum.

Pacing quickly across the lots, he paused, checking that his weapons were ready, and pack secure, then slipped silently through the entrance doors, pausing again in the foyer. A quick survey showed nothing interesting nearby, though deeper inside the old asylum he could detect faint voices. Ghosts of past patients, or hunters on the prowl. He would know soon. The killer moved deeper into the old building. Stalking silently, eyes roving for his next target, Mordechai cleared the first floor room by room, until he came upon a odd, make that very odd, sight. Before him a familiar shape lounged, apparently talking to a pair of young fledglings. Slowly he blinked, but the image did not change. The head of the Dragomir was not only awake, but out in the city, conversing with others. Scuffing one spiked New Rock through the detritus on the floor to announce his presence before he got too close, the sound of stones rolling on a creek bottom slipped from his lips as he quietly growled out, "Greetings Nikolae"