Fool in the Rain [Azraeth]

[Bellum (DELETED 10249)]

“Oh, for ****’s—are you serious?” Edith called out after him with her arms raised, calloused fingers splayed and palms facing upwards. “Ethan!” Dropping her arms to her side, she clicked her tongue in disgust, and glanced back at the approaching zombie. The hazy light radiating from the closest lampposts made it near-impossible to ascertain the creature’s condition, though it was evidently struggling to close the distance between them. Unarmed and unwilling to be someone’s supper, the brunette gathered her purse and began walking. Long legs carried her much faster than the zombie could move, and that was reassurance enough.

Nearing the casino’s parking lot, Edith glanced over her shoulder. If she got to the car without being intercepted by any other cannibalistic corpse, she’d be dandy. Except, the car wasn’t where they’d left it. Stepping onto the asphalt, heels clicking, she scanned the lot, incredulous.

“Oh, that’s great,” she announced, tone deadpan. Pursuing her lips, she contemplated reaching for her phone to call him or simply leaving it at that. Despite her astonishment she wasn’t surprised. Out of all his antics though, this one took the cake. Muttering a few choice insults under her breath, Edith opted for the latter option. There was no imminent danger and while being deserted by her half-witted on-and-off boyfriend soured her mood, the night could still be salvaged. The question was how?

The flashing sign above the casino’s backdoor was her answer.

Drinking and gambling proved a disastrous combination. Determined to get a win of any kind, Edith went hard. Too hard. When she stepped out five hours later, she was a few hundred short on rent. It was a problem sober Edith could deal with though, because as far as she was concerned, she’d had enough bad news for one night.

“Ethan being a spineless shithead isn’t news,” she replied to herself, promptly laughing in agreement. Steadying her feet, the pain from the heels muted by alcohol, Edith began to walk towards Gullsborough station. Honeymead was closer, but Gullsborough was closer to home, which meant it was better for her to catch transit there. It didn’t matter that they both serviced River Rock.

As she crossed the road towards the station, a motorcycle whizzed past her. The purse at her shoulder was ripped away, pulling painfully on her shoulder. She shrieked, narrowly avoiding the curb of the opposite sidewalk as she caught herself on all fours. By the time she got back to her feet, unstable and blearily alert, the motorcycle had disappeared around a corner.

After finding the ticket office closed and no one to help her get home, Edith decided to make her way back to the casino. They’d know her, right? Maybe they could help her, or call the police, or whatever. Wiping the mascara from under her eyes, she slowly made her way across the street, arms wrapped around herself as she checked for motorcycles and thieves. It wasn’t as if she had anything left on her to steal, but the tumble itself was not something she wanted to repeat.

Slow and unsteady, the brunette walked down the sidewalk, practically hugging the walls. As she rounded the corner, she found herself forty yards away or so from a zombie. It stood unsteadily in the middle of the road. Edith barely had time to make sense of it before she heard the gunshots. Her heart jumped into her throat. Bullets travelled a lot faster than zombies and scared her a hell of a lot more.

Without thinking, she dived into the property nearest to her. The building was unfamiliar and old, but she paid little mind to it. Running towards the double doors, she cast a glance over her shoulder at the growing commotion in the street before sealing herself away in the temple.

[Azraeth]

WEARING

In a city with a high crime and mortality rate, there were a number of businesses that suffered, but there were a few which were constantly booming. For example, the police force was always looking for new cops, and morticians never ran out of dead bodies to prepare for their final goodbyes. The Temple was similar. While it was not nearly so old as it first appeared, with its gothic architecture, it still had a history in Harper Rock, certainly enough of a past that it made for a great haunted attraction. With its close proximity to the Quarantine Zone, and a custodian like Azraeth, who had absolutely no problem with calling spirits onto the grounds, until they were permeated with metaphysical energy - there were no shortage of frights for those who wanted to be scared. That was, if the Mystic had to guess, the avenue of success in the city of monsters. It was actually part of why he’d founded the Cryptozoological Society as well.

Why fight the weird? Embracing it was so much easier.

Azraeth made it a habit to check in on the Temple for a few reasons. For one, he liked to be sure everything was running in excellent order. While the property itself technically belonged to all of the Dragomir, Azraeth had overseen the business side for some years - and even that was purely from a managerial capacity. Sometimes he found other Dragons wandering around the halls, as if they were there to roost, even the enigmatic and elusive Nikolae. There was also this sense of nostalgia that came from running his fingertips over the ritual altar, from the scent of the blood of some of his childer spilled on the stone, and left to linger. With the statues and stained glass, and the very soul of the place, if a place could have a soul, it was impossible for him not to feel at home there. The Temple was the cradle of the particular brand of darkness which had given him new life after his untimely death.

He was humming as he stood on that raised platform overlooking the rune etched altar. There were wires running out of his ears and down towards a pocket. Even at the lowest volume setting (save for mute), the sound of the song was ‘deafeningly’ loud. Still, he heard the door open. He didn’t turn immediately, because it was his favorite part of the song, and he was bobbing along with the tune of The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. His back was turned to the front entrance. His shoulders, his chest, head and neck were all moving - the weaving motion of a snake winding its way through the desert, and yet his feet remained planted firmly on the ground. It was only when the sound of Stevie Nicks’s voice began to fade that he let his dark brows lift so he could half turn.

His eyes were a serpent’s, totally inhuman in their presentation. There had been a point when he’d attempted to hide them - these days there wasn’t much point.

He caught sight of a woman pushing the doors to the Temple closed, and the first thing that came to mind was ‘Sanctuary!’, after the style of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Were social graces not an obligation, he might have looked up a song by Ben Howard. “Esmeralda!” He called out, as he pulled the earbuds from his head for ease of hearing what she had to say. He didn’t know her from Adam (or Eve), but that didn’t properly matter. She was in his home, one of his homes, and that made her family. ”Welcome. What brings you here tonight?” He asked, oblivious as to what was happening beyond the wooden doors.

[Bellum (DELETED 10249)]

The heavy doors muted the cacophonous chaos outside. Hands splayed against the rigged surface of the door, her pulse danced across her fingertips, throat dry and chest heaving. There was no time for her to come down from her adrenaline spike, another bout of epinephrine erupting through her bloodstream at the sound of a booming voice. Drawing a sharp breath, only then realising she’d not only escaped a place, but entered another, Edith turned. She all but splattered against the door at the sight of the stranger, her back flush to the wood. It was a futile attempt at making herself invisible as wide, dark eyes surveyed the man at the…. altar?

Edith peeled away from the door as her gaze flickered about. It could have been a church, save for the lack of iconography that so often screamed religion. From where she stood she saw but a man, well-dressed and a bit mismatched to the setting. There was nothing about him that screamed threat however, not from where she stood. Straightening her posture, discomfort spreading across her midriff, she approached, her gaze clouded by alcohol and smeared makeup.

“I didn’t mean to trespass. There are people shooting at a zombie outside, and—”

As she spoke, she neared the altar, gaze studying both the temple and stranger. It was then that she caught sight of something, or believed herself to have caught sight of something that had her faltering mid-step. Pausing at the centre of the aisle, Edith once again folded her arms protectively across herself. As she did this, she felt the wetness along her waist. Cupping her palm around the bloodied curve of her body, she steeled herself as the realisation weaselled its way through her alcohol-addled mind.

“I think I’ve been shot?”

It didn’t hurt until she twisted to look down.
There black dress hugged her tight and revealed nothing, but her fingers came away red.

[Azraeth]

She seemed to have just noticed Azraeth, in much the way he had taken note of her, with just a hint of surprise. There was some of the energy present of two animals sizing each other up to see if there was perhaps danger in interaction. In a place like Harper Rock, this was just a common sense practice. None the less, the vampire offered a smile, intended to be kind. “You are welcome here. More than welcome here.” He said. This was, in part, because the temple was a business, and foot traffic never hurt. More importantly, the woman at the door appeared to be at least somewhat intoxicated. A little bit a mess. She would have made an excellent meal for a vampire who wasn’t too picky about whether or not their dinner was consenting. And there were even worse things to run into in the city of monsters.

A scent hit him and his smile faltered some, because he realized, perhaps before she did that she was injured. “This part of town can be a little bit dangerous at times.” He said, rather than point the injury out. The clothing she wore was like a veil which hid the blood he knew was soaking into it. With time, that fabric would grow heavy and the heat of it would begin to cool. She was moving towards him, and the Mystic decided it would be best to slip closer in case blood loss made her miss a step.

“You do seem to be shot. I’m not sure how bad it is though. Want me to take a look?” He offered. Or he could take her to the hospital, though he tended to avoid them when possible. There were always mirrors in the waiting rooms, and if a nurse caught sight of a vampire, they were usually less than polite about asking them to leave. Too much danger of vampires trying to steal blood packs or being a danger to patients.

“Come on, let’s get you seated on the altar…” Because it regularly had blood on it, and he honestly didn’t want his new acquaintance to let her blood soak into the pews or even onto the carpet. “...Totally promise I’m not going to virgin sacrifice you to the dark gods. That seems like it wouldn’t be too sporting in this situation.” He said, offering up his hand for her to take if she so desired.