Dead bodies were an inconvenience, and it didn’t take killing someone and having to dispose of the body to come to that conclusion. Everyone knew it. And if everyone knew it, then that meant -- given the limited number of options at her disposal at this particular moment in time -- no one could hold what she was doing against her. It wasn’t the savviest of solutions, but it was the best in light of the circumstances.
Jesse didn’t want dead bodies anywhere near Serpentine, but he’d never explicitly mentioned no dead bodies here.
Grasping at her side -- where the hunter’s blade had left a sizeable dent, Charlie maneuvered the heavy corpse with difficulty. If she didn’t manage to come back in time and dispose of him before dawn, then his limbs would harden as rigour mortis settled in. It’d be harder to transport the body if she didn’t arrange it in a more compact manner. Which was exactly what she was doing. Huffing and cursing without restraint, she single-handedly attempted to roll and fold the body into the fetal position, all the while keeping her blood from dripping onto it.
Stepping back to survey her work, she grimaced at the sight. She’d never claimed to be an artist. She’d never thought herself someone who could handle a dead body so casually, especially after killing its owner so easily. Not that any of it mattered. What mattered was severing any ties between the hunter’s death and Serpentine, and getting back to work with a fresh change of clothes, before anyone noticed her absence.
Before moving towards the elevator to retrieve a set of clean clothes from upstairs, Charlie stopped by the shop for a pint of bagged blood. The wound felt superficial, but she needed to stave the thirst that’d arise from the healing process. Stashing the vinyl bag under her arm, she called for the elevator and peeked under her bloodstained shirt. It would heal within a day or two, at most. Considering the amount of head injuries she’d suffered from, a gash like this -- despite its gory appearance -- didn’t faze her.
The whirring of turning pulleys stopped, followed by the ping of opening doors.
It didn’t occur to Charlie that anyone could be in the elevator, else she’d have looked up before stepping forward.
Please Note — Charlie is an Allurist with Mortal Aura and Healthy Complexion
The black track pants Balthazar recently slipped on clung to his glistening hips. The light, silk like fabric cooled his flesh each time he took a step that brought the material in contact with his feverish skin. Dead man walking. It certainly came to mind and pretty much summed him up as he moved through space contained by narrowed walls. What was on them, if anything at all, escaped his limited focus. He couldn’t stay still while his insides were slowly shutting down. Laying in the bed did nothing for him, neither did staring at the walls he had been sequestered in. Balthazar felt like a crash cart was needed to deliver the charge his body could use but he knew it was beyond saving in the long run. He smelled like death warmed over and still being served every time his legs stretched into another fatigued step or his arms lifted to stretch out the endless knots of muscles attached. He scrubbed the sweat and stink away several times. Eventually it came back as well as the sensation that it could get worse than it had been. Jesse said it would and he was right.
The elevator he stumbled upon did it’s job by opening and inviting him in. It failed to take him away from what he wished to shed the most. Reality. Death was not so sudden. Given his first hand experience with Hugh, and now himself, he hoped it happened sooner than later. But it would not go how he wanted. Instead it was coming along as he was told would take place. Slow and painful.
Until the inevitable happened he finally took to stalking the halls. Discovering the steel cage that could deliver him who knows where had him stumbling inside and pushing the button to the right to find out. Up and down he intended to go while he still was capable of standing on his own two bare but heavily inked feet. As soon as it started to move he gripped the interior railings tight. Immediately his chest and gut protested against the change of direction his body was taking. Enough so that he stepped towards the doors that would have to open if he pushed enough buttons. He could see that he was doing too much with so little left to work with. Harder his thumb sank into the buttons. Finally the abrupt stop of the car he was in was followed by the hiss of the door in front of him sliding open. He stepped forward without looking. He was consumed with relief that the sickening motion finally stopped. So did his body as he walked into the unexpected.
“Damn.” He had no choice but to catch in his hands and hold onto whatever was in his way. It was hardly forceful or concerning. Just enough connection was made to use whatever or whoever it was for support while his bare foot went back to create some distance. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
His eyes set on the face that was framed by brown hair. Anything else took more work than he could handle. The deterioration of his vision had him assuming she was young, attractive as one could appear given he saw at the very best blurred streaks of color and soft lines. Details were lost on him. Even so she already stood out like a sore thumb. He was in brother Fforde’s castle of doom. What was a nice chick like her doing in a place like this? While his body easily overpowered the natural scent inside the elevator car marking it with his dying own he glanced down then slowly upward. He had been told by a carnival worker it was never wise to take his eye off the prize. He should have kept it in mind. Then and there his once perfect vision had an intense and all too brief sharpening in it’s quality. What was revealed had him wide eyed and fumbling for the buttons to close the door which managed to stay open. The inspiration was credited to Jesse’s voice filling his head while he broke into a sweat.
...others like me. Family.
The door finally attempted to shut and nearly knocked him on his *** when it hissed to close. He stumbled weakly but managed to correct himself enough to get out of the way. With no quick option but to watch it shut on him he massaged his damp colorful chest where it was on fire. The vivid chest wide and abdomen deep tribute to Mesuda got the affection of his hand as it moved slowly. When the suction of the door confirmed it was closed he sized up what couldn’t do any more damage than his own brother already had. Well, that was his hope.
“Morning? Evening?” He took a stab in the dark at what time it was since what day he was in would be too much to ask for. Talk about firsts. This was going to the top of his current list. “Let me get the door for you.” He pressed the pad of his thumb at the button behind him. It seemed to have disappeared which left him to turn his back on the woman to locate it. The mural of permanent skin art that covered the space beneath the base of his neck to his hips where the waistband cut off the full view greeted her with its telling message. But only long enough for him to stab the button with his finger. The hiss of the doors opening was music to his ears. “I can hold it open.” His vision went fuzzy but he was still standing on his own two feet. That was a positive sign. “Did you notice if they have the continental breakfast spread out yet? I am still trying to find the indoor pool.”
Charlie found herself stepping head-first into a living piece of art. She relinquished the hold on her hiked-up shirt upon impact, hands blindly grasping at whatever was in front to steady herself. Cold, inked skin. Her initial thought was: Jesse. Not that she’d ever seen him without a shirt on, but male plus tattoo in her limited Fforde experience equalled Jesse. “******* H—” Contact was brief, her footing easier to find than anticipated. Her core strength might be affected by the injury, but her reflexes remained sharp: the vinyl bag was caught before it slipped completely from her grasp.
Casting a glance upwards, her eyebrows arched. The link between mind and mouth jerked at the sight of the unexpected. The curse-word hanging on her tongue shifted into something a little breathier as the curve ball caught her behind the head. Mental whiplash. It thickened her accent and elongated her syllables: “—ello.”
This was certainly not Jesse Fforde. It wasn’t just blood that she shared with this man. They shared a sire. How odd was it to know such a thing without being told or having to ask. Jesse’d mentioned two new childer had joined the ranks—Raegan and Balthazar.
There was a superficial familiarity that pulled at her conscious, the brain’s inability to understand why—despite this not being who she expected it to be—did she feel as though she was staring—in some fucked up way, at Jesse. Her eyes roamed the stranger’s decorated form in search of the distortion’s source. Maybe the answer laid in the tattoos, though the woman’s face inked across his chest had nothing offer. The snakes, on the other hand, did. Blue gaze darted to the face, lingering before the elevator’s closing doors distracted her.
When the stranger stumbled forward, her hands instinctively moved towards him. The blood back slipped from her grasp in the process, and her fingers never reaching the bared flesh in favour of her meal. He seemed to be perfectly capable of handling himself, though it didn’t escape her notice the state he was in.
“I dun ken anythin’ ‘bout the continental, but ye can request meals be brought to ye—.” As Charlie spoke, she stepped in, reaching for the button that would hold the doors open from inside the elevator. “—Cheers. But yer **** out of luck fer a pool. Jesse said ye’d be wandering around though. Ye must be doing well if ye feelin’ well enough to swim?”
Please Note — Charlie is an Allurist with Mortal Aura and Healthy Complexion
Balthazar blinked while the bounce of a fluid filled pack stood out until she regained control of it. There was a sound he hadn’t heard in quite a while. Not the plastic filled blood bag. The one word greeting. It was rich, pleasant on the ears, disarming with directness and bold delivery. How could it be that she ended up in Fforde Tower? She had to be a bit farther from home than he was. He watched her for a few seconds to see what she would do next. Did he dare ask? She seemed in far better shape than he was. Perhaps there was there something she could reveal that he wasn’t already told?
Zar’s empty gut was trying to revolt and it interrupted him from asking. He didn’t really have it in him to go through it all over again in front of her. A complete stranger. One he couldn’t clearly make out in detail. Not if he could physically help it. He wanted to know but it came down to one of those maybe later deals. He was still processing his own demise or delay there of to get himself invested in anyone else's life changing story. The appearance of her said there was hope and for the moment that was enough. The mention of him being around meant Jesse had talked about him, there was an expected light at the end of the tunnel. He just couldn’t see it as long as his dying time was stretching out longer than ‘31 U.S. Open.
“Swimming or drowning. Whichever requires less effort and delivers the quickest results?”
While she stepped in and pushed a button he noticed that the door stayed open. He glanced around and found nothing terribly exciting to stick around for. Then again he couldn’t clearly see anything until it was close enough to bite him in the *** so why stick around? He stepped into the space and managed to situate himself on the opposite of the elevator.
“There is room service?” His hands patted the railing at each side of him. It would appear brother Fforde was doing better for himself than first suspected. Obviously far better than diving for lost golf balls could pay for. Balthazar was never into money. Not enough to have people on staff wandering around waiting to send an omelet to his bedroom door. “Not sure which floor I was coming from but if you don’t mind dropping me off that would be great. When I got here I wasn’t really in the condition to pay attention where I was going.” His fingers locked down on the railing as the elevator started moving. All it took was a rise or drop from where his feet were planted to get the insides fighting. He caught his breath and held it which was obvious in the way he clarified what he said. “Well, being taken to that is.” He exhaled and the sour scent of his own breath flowed upward while delivering increased air flow over his perspiring face. "Is there by chance any complimentary toothbrushes and paste? I forgot to pack mine."
Charlie chuckled at his expense as she pressed the second floor pushbutton. There really was only one way to go, unless Balthazar wanted to truly **** himself up with the traps littering the ground floor below.
“Not exactly, but…” Explaining it would require more forethought than she’d anticipated. Brushing off the end of her sentence with a flick of the wrist, she settled her weight on the railing as the elevator begun moving, and watched him. He really was in dire need of a makeover, one involving a hearty dose of morphine, a bath, and— well, she presumed the moustache was intentional.
The elevator stopped, doors opening slowly. Charlie made no move to get out, instead holding the door open by pressing the pushbutton and motioning with an elegant swing of her hand towards Cerberus. There was little use for her to come up here these days, but a plastic container where she kept a few changes of clothes. On more than one occasion, critical wounds had kept her confined, and no amount of brain leakage was going to keep her from a fresh pair of clothes every few days.
“I’m only passing through—” The allurist spared him the mention of the corpse she’d come to drop off, unsure where he stood on the whole ‘murder’ business and unwilling to make a poor first impression. “—but I can be back within the hour and swing by the shops beforehand. Anything else?”
Charlie stepped out, pausing just short of the doors sliding shut behind her. The wound in her abdomen was uncomfortable, but nothing she couldn't outlive. Tossing the blood bag from one hand to the other, she glanced about, wondering where Balthazar had been parked. There were no assigned rooms or couches, but she would wait until he'd made himself comfortable before wandering off.
Please Note — Charlie is an Allurist with Mortal Aura and Healthy Complexion
