Prowess on the gun range did not translate into being deadly out here. There were too many uncontrollable variables in the real world that could detract from a perfect shot. The movies had it wrong, and it took many months of trial and error for Bjorn to understand that. Once he let go the idea of how he thought it would be, he learned how to deal with how it actually was. Mastering self-control and knowing the layout of this place by heart was what made him a near perfect shot. It wasn’t inherent talent but tireless training, night after night after night of stalking Cherrydale’s underbelly. Weeks ago he’d been moderately successful at defeating even the greatest of mooncalf, now he was undefeated.
The telepath ducked under the low archway, stepping out from the dwarf tunnel and into the mausoleum’s main hall. As he moved through the poorly lit space, he readjusted the strap of his rucksack across his left shoulder, causing the collection of bones and relics within it to clatter weakly.
Gun in hand, Bjorn walked the southern perimeter of the hall, moving diagonally to keep his field of vision as extensive as possible. He stroked the backstrap of the grip with his thumb, the movement slow and steady; it was a way to diffuse the adrenaline rippling beneath his skin. He stilled at the sight of a familiar face a dozen or so yards away. If he’d not interacted with her previously, he would have very likely given her a wide berth and continued on his hunt undisturbed.
Holstering his gun (without reengaging the safety in case of urgency), the vampire made a stealthy approach. He wondered why she stood there, with her back to potential danger and seemingly no awareness as to her surroundings. As he got closer, he understood. Reloading a weapon was always a moment of potential weakness.
Thumb parked beneath the trap of his rucksack, Bjorn tapped into his mind and moulded the intangible power it held. The ripple of telekinetic energy was like a cutting breeze in the winter, raising the hairs on his body and sending a shiver down his spine. It felt very much like a cold shower to his senses, for he felt refreshed, more powerful, in better control of his body and mind.
Dropping the rucksack to the ground for effect, Bjorn lifted a hand to his face and nonchalantly began to pick at the dirt beneath his nails. He didn’t need to say anything to Rowan, the smug smirk on his lips speaking volumes.
Bjorn used Telekinetic Shield on everyone here. You gained 4 dexterity for the day. Everyone in the square has been given an invisible shield, making them harder to hit.
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telepath |mortal aura | healthy complexion | gift of the spider| #D93F3F
Rowan grumbled as she inspected her rifle. The shell extractor had gotten stuck again and she focused all her attention to getting it fixed so she could reload it properly. The thought crossed her mind that she might have to look into a better weapon some time, and that her sentiment over the first gun she's ever owned, given by her beloved Sire Enzo, might actually be detrimental to her safety in the long run.
A shiver ran up her spine suddenly and the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose, making her uncomfortable with the unfamiliar sensation. Something dangerous was lurking nearby and it made her uneasy. Reloading the gun with a snap, she took off the safety and swung around, pointing the gun in front of her. A smirk on a familiar face greeted her and she huffed, eventually lowering the gun.
"I could have killed you, Bear!" Rowan muttered, using the nickname instead of the other vampire's real name because she was loath to admit she had forgotten exactly how to pronounce it. The male was irritatingly cleaning his fingernails, smug. "You should know better than to sneak up on people like that. What did you do to the area anyways? I felt something in the air."
“You’d need a lot more than that to kill me, Rhaegal,” he retorted, unable to keep himself from giving her a new nickname. In the extra hours of darkness afforded to him by lengthening autumnal nights, catching up Game of Thrones had become a morning ritual. For some reason, he doubted she’d get the reference.
“Did you? Was it as good for you as it was for me?” he teased. Bjorn tightened the leash on his amusement and gently shook his head. While he had certainly gained a lot of confidence in himself these past few weeks, it remained a fact that he was barely acquainted with Rowan. It took time for his crassness and sarcasm to find a place in his interactions.
Pocketing his hands, thumbs hooked on the outside, he sidestepped his rucksack and leaned against the cold stone of a column. “It’s a mind trick. Not too sure what it does to others exactly, but I’ve essentially raised some shield around a certain perimeter. I feel it too, gets me a lot more focused. Placebo effect, maybe. Who knows how any of this **** works?”
telepath |mortal aura | healthy complexion | gift of the spider| #D93F3F
"Rhae-what? I haven't got a clue what that means." Rowan slung her rifle into its position on her back while rolling her eyes at his quip. "Wow... way to sound like a sleezy guy in one of those bars I used to work at. Only thing missing is you grabbing at my butt or one of my breasts." Gray eyes, reptilian pupil hidden carefully with her usual contacts, watched as he leaned onto a nearby column. "Someone sounds more confident. Or have you recently discovered that you're capable of getting drunk?" she teased, rearranging her satchel and closing the pocket that had held the ammunition she had reloaded into her rifle. Head coming up, she stared at him curiously as he explained what he had done, some sort of shield.
"A telepathic thing, huh? I've heard that some of our kind gain telepathic gifts when turned. I personally don't know much about it." Rowan tilted her head to the side. "So... how come you didn't email me?"
Bjorn doubted alcohol would go down any better than water did. He was on the path towards becoming an Allurist, and there were rumours that some—not all—allurists could manage ingestion. He wondered if his appetite for regular food would return, or if coffee could give him the kick it used to. Should he ever managed to complete he training old bearded Berlion had laid out for him, he might someday find out. Until he was well on his way to walking in Elliot’s shadow, he wasn’t going to be testing waters—or whiskeys, or beers.
“Forgot,” he shrugged. There wasn’t much happening in his life it would seem, but there was—work, crafting projects, training, and seeking new powers all took time and concentration. The few acquaintances he’d met over the past few months were mostly chance meetings. Truth was, he had no idea what he would have e-mailed her about. Vampires didn’t do brunch.
“What you been up to?”
telepath |mortal aura | healthy complexion | gift of the spider| #D93F3F
Rowan resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. 'Men,' she thought, after he admitted to forgetting to email her.
"Nothing much aside from my sire getting bonded. Too bad you didn't contact me, you could have come and met some people." A teasing grin crossed her face, looking wicked. "And don't worry, not all of us got the eyes. I know they freak you out." After a considering look, she added. "Were you done training or um.. just starting for the night?"
Bjorn hummed at her answer. It was true that he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her gaze. Dragon jokes aside, there was something about the slate-coloured iris nearly blending into the sciera that made her eyes unnerving to look at. Maybe he’d get used to it with time, as he did with most things. The thought of being around multiple people with the same phenotypical trait however, made him incredibly uneasy. He wouldn’t express it, but he was glad he’d dodged that invite; socialising or not.
“Neither,” he replied, casting a glance around. He could have sworn he saw something moving across the hall. They certainly didn’t need a repeat of last time. For good measure, he glanced over his shoulder.
“I’m about half-way done for the night,” he said, toeing the rucksack. His strength was improving, allowing him to carry more trophies without it interfering with the occasional fight a mooncalf put up. It also meant more money. “I was going to do a last walk around before heading to the Algonquin caverns. But I saw you here and thought I’d say hi. So, hi. What you doing, you know, aside from leaving your back completely open for attack?”
He grinned smugly.
telepath |mortal aura | healthy complexion | gift of the spider| #D93F3F
Rowan snorted, uncaring that she was anything but lady-like at the moment. "Sadly, smug doesn't bother me so much... my family is full of dragons, silly Bear. But it's nice to see it on you. It suits you a bit. Want to try sarcasm next time?" she said dryly, still with that teasing tone of voice that hopefully communicated to him that she was amused rather than offended at his smugness and comments. She knew she was still young and inexperienced, but that was exactly why she was down here in the mausoleum and catacombs night after night, regardless if it was a bad night at work or if she were practically dead on her feet. She dedicated the last of her energy every day to her training. It was her way of making herself feel better, of assuring herself that she was putting an effort into making herself stronger so that she couldn't be taken advantage of or abducted again.
"As for why I'm down here, I imagine I'm doing the same as you. Training. I like the caverns but, somehow the creatures lurking here are more to my taste." A smirk with a flash of brilliant white teeth graced her lips still stained a light pink from her work get-up hours ago. "I mean... Who doesn't love hearing a good mooncalf hit the floor?"
She moved through the tunnels, stopping at every junction to listen and look before heading further and deeper in. Something in a corner caught her eye, leaning down she carefully started pushing things about til the gleam of metal she had caught earlier could be seen better. Pulling the dagger free from the grit and grime she paused and held a breath as voices drifted to her ears. She carefully pushed herself to her feet and moved further in, closer to the voices. Who else would be down in these tunnels, was it even someone she knew. She paused at a corner as the voices got louder and she could make out the words that went along with the sounds. Carefully peeking around the stone to catch sight of who else was here.
Bjorn shrugged at Rowan’s response, not caring enough to agree or disagree with her. Though he couldn’t deny to feel a surge of satisfaction after each kill, he had no particular preference for the mooncalf over any other creature. Perhaps he preferred them over the spider-like monstrosities that lurked in the caverns, though he knew from experience that with enough practice those too would cease to be a threat. Everything could be killed.
He took a breath in order to speak, and with it came an onslaught of new information. Human, definitely. Throwing Rowan a look and narrowing his eyes, Bjorn cast his senses further, seeking the location of their company. Still leaning against the stone pillar, he slowly rolled off his shoulder and onto his back for cover and better vantage point.
“You reckon they’re lost?”
Humans were a rare species in these parts, but the telepath knew not to underestimate them when he crossed them. He had once sought to feed down here for practicality’s sake, and instead found himself poisoned by the human’s blood. Hands still in his pockets, he pressed the inside of his wrist against the gun holstered at his hip.
“Eavesdropping’s a rude thing to do, you know?” he called out, casting their surrounds a glance before meeting Rowan’s silvery gaze with a question in his eyes. Threat?
telepath |mortal aura | healthy complexion | gift of the spider| #D93F3F
