Path of the Vampire forum

Shadis threw the coat over her shoulders before she drew the hood up over her black locks, hiding them from view. Next she slipped a pair of dark sunglasses on and tugged a pair of gloves on before she buttoned up the coat. The woman was dressed plainly with no make-up on, which was unusual on its own. It was so then no one would recognize her when she did put make-up on. It was her key signature and she had been practising to do it without a mirror, because she dreaded looking into a mirror to see the horrible image that reflected back. The woman refused to believe she was a corpse, because everyone else was able to see her for the beautiful person she was. Her clothes, the jeans and simple turtle neck, were plain and black, nothing with any logos on them and she wore her plain black knee high boots to pair it all off.

The reason that she had donned such an outfit, was because she had seen the flyer on the cork board at a cafe and to be frank, she was a little bored. If she could make a difference in this new life and that cause kept her occupied, then she would be more than happy to commit to a cause. Shadis had no one to protect, no loved ones except for maybe Elliot, but he was her sire and even she wasn’t sure if he cared all that much. So this was purely to kill time and make a difference at the same time. Her sire, was distant at times and she was determined to place distance between her and her sire. Even so, she still owed him for her new life. This was all the reasoning that she needed and she headed out the door of her room, closing it behind her to make her way out of the pub. The abandoned warehouse, she knew, because she did once live in Harper Rock. So that was exactly where she was making her way to.

Her steps crossed over the snow and she listened to the crunch as she walked, but her mind was elsewhere as she tried not to think about the hunger that plague her. She had to wonder, why did they have to hide their identities? Was it so if they were confronted by something then they couldn’t spill theirs guts out about anyone else? It interested her slightly, but just in case, she had made an email account so then if it wasn’t a good enough cause, she could just simply forget about it. That was the beauty of the net she guessed. You could make up a whole new person and if it didn’t suit you, then simply forget about it the next day. A stop came to her steps as she looked upon the abandoned warehouse and angled her head just slightly. Why here? She asked herself, but in a way it did make sense. Who would really want to go to an abandoned warehouse?

The newly made vampire, slipped in through the door and paused once more as she took in the amount of people that had gathered within the walls of the abandoned warehouse. It was then that her gaze caught the sign in sheet through her sunglasses and she walked over it to sign her name 'Phoenix' before she jotted down the email address. After that was complete, she made her way to a wall to press her back to it. Distance was her friend, a long life friend. Whoever these people were, she was sure that they all had their own reasons for being there. What that was, she wasn’t sure. Shadis, on the other hand, was more interested in the fact that they were all probably there because of a flyer. A flyer that said that their lives were at risk. The vampire was going to keep her new life, no matter the cost, so what was this life endangering cause exactly? That was what she wanted to know.

The nights were starting to get shorter as spring was starting her approach and attempting to beat back the frigid temperatures. Oddly enough, the season tended to have very little effect on The Dungeon's business. The red-headed manager wasn't all that shocked by the phenomenon as vampires, the establishment's main clientele, weren't typically affected by the changes in temperature. Tonight had been no exception as Valentine's Day was traditionally a rather popular night.

Amalea looked around the now-empty and cleaned club, before addressing her employees with a smile. "Good job tonight, team. Thanks for working so hard and keeping our guests happy. I know tonight wasn't easy, but it went very well. Next Sunday, we'll be having an Employee Gathering in the afternoon since you guys missed out on Valentine's Day. You're all welcome to bring a guest. Have a good day and be careful getting home." She answered any questions before following the group out and locking up for the day.

As they walked though the main floor of The Necro, the human noticed a peculiar flyer that had been posted, recently, she assumed. Waving her staff out, she paused to read the text, making mental notes as to the place, given it was already Monday. Lea made her way back towards her apartment making a couple stops along the way. In several places, she saw matching flyers and smiled. Whoever was running this was certainly very enthusiastic about it and she couldn't wait to see what it was all about.

~~ That Night ~~

Two of the purchases the red-head had made on her way home sat on the counter of her bathroom sink as she read the directions for the temporary dye. The flyer had said to disguise your identity and the human knew her hair would stand out, particularly since she was decently well-known by her regulars and had been working at The Necro for nearly five years now. The process was simple enough and she was soon proceeding with her preparations. She had chosen contacts to make her eyes appear brown as her natural eye color was rather distinctive.

An outfit in all black - from shoes to her jacket - adorned her frame, though nothing currently covered her face. She eyed her stash of weapons, trying to decide what to take with her. Lea was certainly not naive enough to thing that this gathering would be without risks and had no intentions of arriving unprepared. Various knives and other sharp weapons soon found homes upon her person, all artfully concealed. A singular gun was placed in her concealed holster before she stepped back to look in the mirror. Not seeing anything a miss, she headed out to the mysterious gathering.

The warehouse certainly wasn't hard to find though the red-head had to suppress a smile as she spotted the structure surrounded by spirits. That alone answered the question as to which 'side' was in charge of the meeting and she had little doubt most of the attendees would be vampires - not that that bothered her in the slightest. Still out of sight, she fixed her black full-face Venetian mask into place. Satisfied that she had minimal chances of being recognized, she finished her journey and entered the structure, noting the gathered masses. She certainly could tell humans were a very distinct minority here as she nodded to all she passed in an effort to reach the small table and what was obviously a sign-in sheet.

After a moment of hesitation - she hadn't considered a codename in her haste - she took great care in disguising her handwriting as she penned 'Decima' along with an email address and phone number, both of which were allotted specifically for this. Pleased with her entry, she stepped to the side, out of the way to wait for the meeting to come to order and the purpose finally revealed.

Nemesis stood relatively still, watching through the dark lenses of his sunglasses as others slowly made their appearances. Some signed the paper immediately, which intrigued and satisfied some darker part of the Dragomir. There were humans among them, he noted almost as soon as the non-vampires entered the building. He did not know yet what to make of that, though in part there was a degree of relief and curiosity. Nikolae had known and suspected for some time that the humans in the odd little town they all called home were much more than met the eye. Of course, there were the ones that openly assaulted and harassed vampires – probably with good reason given the proclivities of his kind – but there were others that he had yet to hear a bad thing of. The sort the Fae, no doubt, looked after dotingly. He despised the Fae, but if the boogeymen of the vampiric world saw something worthwhile in these humans who were so much more than mere mortals, then there must be something there. And, frankly, their kind had just as much to fear from the non-mystical humans as any vampire walking the streets did. Only a fool would think that the human governments, with their sophisticated military equipment and coldly aloof scientists would not be as eagerly interested in humans with supernatural capabilities as they were with the undead zombie hoard and the vampires themselves. And Nikolae, Nemesis, was no fool. Nor was he one to cut off his nose to spite his face – like so many of the true fools inhabiting the city these nights.

He got the sense that, for now at least, those who were going to come had made their appearance. Perhaps others would join later this night. Perhaps more would join should this endeavor of his show fruitfulness in a way he dared not yet hope. He finally stepped forward, out of the shadows he so often haunted, and moved to shut the door with a firm thud of finality. The others here all seemed to be hanging on the fringes of the room, leaving the center, by the table, an open stage. Nikolae had never been one for grand speeches, and had long ago hung up his proverbial hat when it came to leading the rabid dogs of vampire society. If he had seen any other recourse he might have continued in that same vein. Nemesis stood by the table, hands at his side in a casual stance.

“Thank you all for coming. I wasn’t sure that poster would garner much attention, though I half expected a few enemies to arrive and throw a threat or two around. Or enemies of another breed altogether.” He spoke fluidly, because he had never really had much of an accent and was used to speaking clearly for those in his lineage who were not altogether right in the head.

“For our purposes, my name is Nemesis. Perhaps one day we may all know each other better. It doesn’t seem to matter that much, at the moment. What matters is the state of this city, and the threats looming over it that have long been overshadowed by, shall we say, pointless politics and ego-driven chaos.” He hesitated there, considering his words carefully. This meeting, this group, had nothing to do with the sorts of things the town had focused on for far too long. But those things could not simply be ignored, either. “But those politics and chaos are the least of the worries of all of us. Even now, the military bases set up in our town do God knows what to the poor fools trapped inside. Who’s to say who will be next? Who’s to say what their goal really is?” He shook his head and tapped the paper, where the word ARES had been carefully scrawled.

“The supernatural world cannot protect itself from an enemy so large it covers, literally, the expanse of the world. Leaving off the knowledge that this town is all we have. Should we leave here and die, there is no coming back. Immortality trapped in a town filled with enemies is not much of an immortality at all.” Nemesis scowled, looking around at those who had gathered and wondered if his words were reaching them at all. Words he had thought so many times of late.

“There is no recourse for us, for any of us, should the government choose to swarm down on this town and turn it into a smoldering hole in the ground. Or should a great fence be erected to keep us all in and human kind out. What would we do then? What could we do? So long as we live in the shadows and do nothing to protect ourselves, the answer is nothing.” He lifted the pen and set it carefully onto the paper on the table, then looked around at each of the people who had come to the meeting.

Would any of them walk out, choosing to turn their backs on this endeavor entirely? It was possible. It was possible every last one of them might make that decision. But not trying to do something to change the course of this town they all called home – a course Nemesis could only see as ending in tragedy or worst – was not something he would ever abide by.

“I propose we begin to work together, in secret – because too many immortals of all kinds would shun the thought of our species working together. The reasons enemy lines have been drawn no longer matter, not when a bigger enemy now looms. No. We must work together to ensure the survival of all supernatural peoples. It begins small, here and now. Once we have all committed to working together toward this goal. Then we must begin to understand our enemy. Then we must begin to undermine them, to seize back control before it becomes too late.” He stopped himself, and stepped back from the table, gesturing to it as though in offering. “I have many ideas. And hopefully those here tonight might as well. We can only achieve and maintain our freedom, our lives, if we work together.”

Nemesis retreated back to his original spot, leaving the table and the forum to speak open for others. He imagined there would might be argument, questions, even sneering. His ideas weren’t so outlandish, though, he thought. Not really, to any who opened their eyes and observed what this town was devolving into. The smoke and mirrors of the vampire politics had long blinded many, but for Nikolae – who cared little for those shows – his eyes were wide open, if hidden behind sunglasses.

The Killer read the flyer over several times after Nicolette handed him the damned thing. "I thought you might want to..." He held a single finger up, cutting her off in mid-sentence. He started over. The symbol looked like it might be meant to be a V but with the outcroppings at each side it also looked decidedly like a uterus, complete with narrowing vaginal canal and Fallopian tubes. There was no mention directly of the supernatural on the flyer but he suspected that his thrall had been correct in her assumption.

"Hide your identity... are they kidding? Any fledgling Telepath can see through a mask without even trying."

"If you say so master..."

Again the hand rises, cutting the thrall off as she speaks. "People are disappearing... they aren't disappearing. They are dying and being hidden, eaten, turned into zombies or otherwise being disposed of. No one just disappears. That's ludicrous. "

Nicolette remained silent.

"Well, I suppose I may as well see who the rocket scientist is that penned the letter. You said it was on a telephone pole?"

Nicolette nodded.

"I know the place. Hm... Go and get me a hockey mask girl. Since it is a costume party..."

Nicolette headed toward the door without a word to procure the item Trahir had requested.

Watching her for a second Trahir cleared his throat and spoke once more. "Nicolette..."

The woman spun to face him.

"Answer me when I speak to you next time."

"Yes master!" The thrall bowed and rushed off into the night.

A couple hours later he found himself before the Abandoned Warehouse looking like Casey Jones from the Ninja Turtles or maybe a muscled Jason Voorhees. He figured the get-up would at least amuse his mate when he told her about the meeting. His gun was tucked in the back of his waistband not even really concealed. He walked forward, waving Nicolette to drive off and leave him to his business then pushed the door open and made his way inside.
Already someone was speaking.

He leaned against the wall nearby the door for a moment listening before making his way forward to the sign-in sheet, writing Ch-ch-ch ah-ah-ah on the bottom line before making his way to fall in with the others present, taking a seat with them to listen.

He'd only caught the tail end of the speech so far but already he was dubious.

Cathy listened to the man as he spoke. What he was saying made since to her and she agreed with his every statement would she speak out though that would be another thought that ran through her head. She was not one to speak up when she did not want to speak. She keep quiet and just looked at the wraith beside her. She would get stronger first to help out this group and she would find her nitch so she could be part of this group. She was not violent but if she had to she would help them out and hurt someone but she would not kill anyone. That was something the young woman would probably never do though might work up to. She was probably also the youngest one in the room as she looked around and her wraith nodded in agreement. She sent it out of the room to look around the building and make sure she was still safe. For some reason the wraith made her feel safe even if he could not do anything. Being a scout was good though and she liked that about him. If she branched out more she might learn more. For now though she would listen to everyone.

~Michael~

Michael was checking his cell phone, the smart phone screen throwing his masked face into a halo of light. His red blonde hair looking almost white in the screen glow. He was obviously not concentrating on what was going on around him, nor on the people slowly filtering in and doing their best to remain, unobtrusive. Maybe he’d been around vampires too much, his immunity to his own self preservation at a low ebb.

Probably, if he had more than a passing thought for his own safety he’d be doing some sort of covert reconnaissance of the area. He’d have noted who was standing close, who had walked in, or even that there was someone who had made his way to the front of the place and was about to speak.

It wasn’t until the voice cut the silence that he even lifted his head, his finger hitting send and opening up the facetime connection with the small woman in Paris.

He smirked at his own cleverness (albeit obvious unsubtle subterfuge).

And in silence Pi listened to the muffled voice down the hastily palmed smart phone, pointed and mostly hidden, towards the speaker. Michael was obviously **** at any form of cloak and dagger, or he realised quickly, how stupid it was to attempt subterfuge in a situation that was likely to have vampires.

Plus he was pretty certain he couldn’t be the only proxy in the room. What other vampire would actually come themselves when they could send someone as expendable as a human thrall. Not that he thought he was expendable in any way. The exact opposite were true. Michael’s hubris knew no rational limit, it’s just that he was a pragmatic narcissist. He knew exactly how far down the food chain he was, but it held little sway inside his internal perception of his overall awesomeness.

~Pi~

God, he was a moron. Slamming her fingers against the screen she switched off video, turning the screen black so all that showed as black screen, audio only before he’d managed to get the screen turned around.
Sitting back Pi sighed.

He missed her. She knew it, acknowledged it and couldn’t do a damn thing about the situation she found herself in. She had created him to depend on her, to rely on her direction to function yet here she was in another country dealing with her enthralled human coping with his separation anxiety.

His anxiety may well be the death of him as he so morbidly predicted. He certainly wouldn’t last long without injury if he threw himself into situations like these too often.

The fact his anxiety took this particular form didn’t surprise her, but damn this whole situation could prove… sticky. He had good instincts though. From what she heard this group could well be the perfect answer to her personal dilemma.

What did a vampire who cared about the masquerade do when the avenues to protect it in the normal way were blocked to her. Tytonidae hadn’t been an option, they hadn’t wanted her, and she hadn’t been able to bend enough to give them what they wanted. And she was married to a man who clung to his humanity, understood that side of himself as well as she understood the vampire one. She had lived in a conflicted limbo for too long. This, group, whatever they turned out to be, could well be the answer she was searching for.

“Michael…” She spoke quietly, knowing any vampires in the room could hear her, and the French accent that laced her voice with her birth heritage. “You’ve chosen well.” She finished with authority, imbuing her voice with as much weight as she could. There was no telling what that group would do to a human in their midst. There was no way she could intervene if they proved a threat to the male she called her own.

Raising her voice, she spoke louder, assuming whether wrong or not, that the phone, however unlikely, would act as the microphone to the rest in the room.

“Je suis Papillion… I am the Butterfly. We will… work… with you.” Her words were few, but well meant. Delivered over the tinny device, it was the best she could do with the circumstances she found herself in.

“Michael is… mine, an extension of my…. Self.

Merci Beaucoup.”

And with those words she swiped her thumb across the screen cutting off audio and connection. From here on out, she would trust Michael. She would trust him to tell her everything she needed to know, and trust him, not to get him fool-self dead in the process.

~Michael~

Slipping the phone into his pocket Michael cleared his throat. His now phone-less hand reaching skyward, palm out, fingers wiggling.

“I’m Michael.” His accent was very local, his tone verging the wrong side of levity. “I’m Madam Butterfly’s, Executive Assistant.”

And with those rather pithy words, he bent at the waist, bowing low, the hand above his head sweeping down into a rather dramatic swish before lifting again. The other grabbing the tome he kept on himself always… you know. Just in case he needed to get the hell out because the natives got restless and decided to interrogate the poor ******** left holding the smart phone.

Namely him.

As others found their way in, Wendigo rifled through the contents of their memories. This did not, in most cases, give him even the vaguest idea of who they were, but it did often give him a sense of what they were. Several vampires... several not-vampires. An interesting mix to be certain. Thus far, he had not felt the pricking of his relics telling him that he was being intruded upon, and so surface memories were all he scanned. Restraining himself thusly, to his knowledge, meant he would not be detected. Best not to be the one to light this potential powder keg, after all.

When the Nemesis began speaking, Wendigo -- now Argonaut -- listened intently. This was not what he expected at all: rather than being some conspiracy group, or yet another support group for relatives of missing persons, the Nemesis had wanted this. Nemesis had wanted a mix bunch of what he called "supernatural peoples".

Wendigo's knee-jerk reaction was disapproval. He generally viewed such peoples as Masquerade violations in potentia. It was such an opinion that led him to fight so viciously against the Blood Thieves, and the resultant near-genocide had left them broken and scattered. Against the Paladins, the Community had practically united without meaning to, and now the Paladin Order was (by all accounts) in ruins. The squads of Sorcerers seen running with Paladins and Hebigumo interchangeably were equally despised from what he could tell. In any case, these "supernatural peoples" Nemesis was trying to appeal to... they were the enemy.

The notion that they shared a common enemy in the form of this mysterious, ubiquitous, and virtually anonymous government entity was interesting. "The enemy of my enemy..." and all that. That thought, however, was quickly replaced by pragmatism: even if these near-humans could be turned against the government... what good could they really do? A vampire could take dozens of bullets before falling, and upon falling would simply rise again in seven days. This lot? Unlikely. If they didn't die... they would simply become more test subjects: an even greater hazard to the Masquerade than they already were.

He suspected that this lot had no idea what they were up against. He had taken up arms and made runs at government facilities...

"I was in the White Halls," he said before he realized he was speaking. He paused a moment: stealing an identity as he did also meant stealing the surprising behavioral quirks that came with it. Apparently Argonaut was vociferous. This voice came easily, but lacked the resolve of the vampire beneath. "Almost three years ago exactly. Tried infiltrating the base too... almost one year ago. Tried and failed." Did he want to be so discouraging? Perhaps not. Not knowing who he was... they had no reference for how grave his admittance of failure really was. On the other hand, this war -- if it were to be waged -- would not be for those with a weak constitution or a fear of death. Better that lot leave now, he reasoned.

"Other enemies have been weak. Also: stupid, reckless, and under-prepared. Paladins don't have Griffon Helicopters. This lot does." He paused. Were there any Paladins in the room? He decided he didn't care. "The usual fare won't work. They resist enthrallment and bribery. They know we change faces. They know our current trickery. And fighting directly is impossible." He stopped. Stringing more than five words together in a sentence was a strain for him.

"I'm willing to listen," he concluded. "But we need something... unexpected." His eyes flashed: a strange mix of boyish enthusiasm and murderous intent. He tipped his cap toward Nemesis. "Here's hoping you've got something."

<Clover> Clover (known to everyone else as Tiger) had expected some of the same. She’d imagined disagreements ranging from heated words to heated barrels, and yet nothing, as of yet, had erupted. Instead, a single man chose to make a little platform of his own; a single man had risen to the occasion and deemed himself the leader of their little meeting, of a mismatched group of individuals. For all Tiger knew, there were humans among them. The sound of heartbeats lived on beneath the man’s words, like a steady bass to the sound of his voice. She listened--of course she listened--but the sound of heartbeats had her checking masks, trying to pinpoint the sounds. Perhaps she wasn’t capable of being there. Perhaps she wasn’t meant to find the paper that lured her to the abandoned warehouse, to the building surrounded by shifting spirits.

Nemesis, he called himself. And yet he seemed like less of a nemesis and more of an ally. Tiger squeezed the hand of her companion, turning her head slightly to eye his fox mask. Even in the lighting of their environment, she recognized, and took comfort in, the varying flecks on the mask. If she’d gone alone, she considered. What if she’d gone alone? Nemesis, he called himself. What an interesting codename. And she’d assigned herself the codename Tiger. Perhaps she should have chosen something more colorful, something just as meaningful. And yet she’d chosen Tiger.

Tiger had heard about the increased presence of the military, and she’d seen flashes of military uniforms. Most of the armed men had left her alone. Every now and then, she came across them. They were scattered about the city, just as they were stationed at main points, and she chose to kill them. She chose to slaughter them, rather than allow them the opportunity to aid their fellow men in suppressing and suffocating the city. At the beginning, Tiger had considered the government agents useful. She’d considered the military a crucial part in maintaining secrecy. They’d been puppets, really. They’d quarantined areas that became playgrounds for vampires.


<Jesse Fforde> The Fox had been preoccupied. How many years had he been a vampire? He was not completely ignorant to the politics of the city, but he only lately begun to think that he had been privy only to one side of the story; a faction focused on only one thing to the detriment of all else. The Fox had burrowed himself into a narrow state of mind, from which he had slowly begun to crawl. Shucking the shackles of the past and letting the light of burned bridges guide the way, his mind was open to new possibilities. It was only now, as this Nemesis made his case, that Fox realised what direction his subconscious thoughts had wandered. It had started that night in Serpentine, after his discussion with Kaelyn and Stagger.

Only now, as Nemesis suggested that all ‘Supernaturals’ band together did the cogs start to really turn. Where he and his Tiger had come here under the pretence of a hunter gathering, they had instead stumbled upon something completely different. Of course, there could still be enemies within this room; just like Tiger, his ears were focused upon those gathered, as well as on the man on his pedestal. There were humans here. The flier wasn’t overly specific. There could be Tytonidae here, too. This could be considered a rash break in Masquerade; but the Fox instead focused on the proposed mission.

As was the Fox’s usual manner, he remained quiet. He listened. There were others in the room who had questions; he would wait for them to ask what they needed. If he had any questions after the others had been answered, then he would speak up. It was unlikely. He released Tiger’s hand, though his arm snuck in behind her, a gloved thumb slipping through a loop in her jeans. Watching. Waiting. Listening.


<Clover> Tiger had never seen such a big picture. The possibility of losing the entire city to government agents, to military personnel, had never been a priority. If the agents were capable of closing off place after place, of igniting curiosity amongst the people of the city, then they were capable of so much more. Even immortality had its limits. And yet, Nemesis hadn’t meant to drive such a point so deep within them that they left with nothing but fear; he had to have meant to spur deeper thinking, to ignite something more than something so obvious as fear.

“You want us to work together in secret. I’m going to take a guess and say you want to extend the same secrecy to any of our actions,” Tiger spoke, addressing Nemesis. She continued facing the man rather than letting her attention sway to the other who’d just spoken. “We need greater care. We need to be one step ahead. If they know our tricks, then don’t use the tricks. Why not do the most obvious thing and rely on more human methods? Use their tricks. Slip in amongst them. Use powers that most resemble their own abilities. Then again, I haven’t been involved in this sort of thing before. I only suggest methods that have worked for me.”

Blurting things out. Again. Behind her mask, Tiger rolled her eyes. She hadn’t really meant to say anything, but the words spilled out, rolling off her tongue. Was it meant to end in a debate? And were they all capable of a peaceful debate?

<Clover> Tiger had a quick temper, so she wasn’t sure she could maintain an open dialogue. As an afterthought, she shrugged. She didn’t know whether Fox would say anything or not. More than likely, she’d end up saying even more, saying enough for the both of them, and then some. His arm around her had only encouraged her, whether he knew it or not.


<Jesse Fforde> Fox’s thoughts didn’t drift, so much as walk in circles around the topic at hand. True to his star sign – not that he adhered to such hoodoo – he was happy to let other people lead unless it was completely necessary to step up to the plate. In regards to his own family, he had picked up the mantel. He wore the patriarchal crown, and though he had wrangled with it to begin with, he was starting to figure out how it worked. To be a patriarch of something, that something required a cause. A set of rules. A particular kind of loyalty. It was, he hoped, slowly getting there.

He figured it would be the same with this. This… cause. They were all instructed to secrecy. Was that only to begin with? Or would they remain a vigilante group destined to pass each other on the streets without a glimpse of recognition? Though – there were some clever vampires around with clever abilities. Masks wouldn’t last very long, not if someone was determined to find out who they all were. Fox was trying to get his head around the logistics when his counterpart spoke up. He turned sharply to look at Tiger, her voice muffled behind the mask. What else had he really expected from her?

It at least alerted him to her intentions; they didn’t have to communicate each other’s interest or lack thereof. Tiger was interested. If she wasn’t, he had no doubt that she’d have walked them both out of here. Instead, she’d asked questions. She’d offered suggestions. Fox arched an invisible brow, fingers scratching at the denim of her jeans. Fox said nothing. He didn’t need to. Not yet. He was the silent counterpart. But when had he ever really been otherwise?


<Clover> It was her turn to counter his touch. Tiger placed a hand on his chest, as if she were trying to feel out his heartbeat, and then she inched away from him. Whether he approved of her movements or not, Tiger had to go. She was her own person, her own vampire, and she trusted that he understood and supported her decision. And if not? Well, they could argue it out later, sometime when they were concealing their identities with animal masks. Although, Tiger did enjoy wearing the masks. Hiding their identities gave her a boost of confidence. She was someone else, someone with the courage to step forward and go for the table with the piece of paper.

She walked forward as if she didn’t feel the familiar tinge of doubt and the overwhelming itch of anxiety. She’d grown accustomed to those feelings. Anxiety walked with her wherever she went. As she stood before the table, she picked up the pen and turned it around in her hand. Did she have a right to sign his name? And what if something went wrong? Well, she decided, she had the right; if something went wrong, she also retained the right to shove him out of the group. The group wasn’t what they’d anticipated, but they’d stumbled onto something equally as interesting, if not moreso. Fox had to have felt the same way. They were on the same page, weren’t they?

Tiger scribbled her name down onto the paper, then she scribbled Fox’s name. They retained their animal nicknames. For contact information, she put a different phone number, one that she’d used when she’d been in hiding before. Something generic. Something ordinary. Something that wasn’t tied to their family or friends. After she added their names, she went back to Fox, reclaiming her former position. She didn’t want to look at him, just in case he doubted her. She didn’t tell him that she’d added his name, but she had a feeling he knew. She’d scribbled four times on the paper. It was rather obvious that she’d volunteered the both of them.


<Jesse Fforde> Fox watched Tiger with vague curiosity. They had come in together, attached at the hands. They’d stood together, one speaking and the other silent. Now they were parted, one moving toward the table and the sign-up sheet while the other remained static. To all who observed, it would appear that Tiger pulled the strings in this particular duo; that Tiger was the leader, Fox the subordinate. Fox was comfortable in his position, however. In the past couple of months, he had regained his sense of self; his ego, his confidence, his lack of fucks given in regard to what anyone else saw or thought or assumed.

They were a pair, the Tiger and the Fox. They were a two parts of one whole. An unlikely combination, but one that worked. Two entirely different pieces of a puzzle but they fit together in unexpected ways. Here, and now, one was leading the other. Instead, one acted on behalf of the whole. Tiger returned to Fox’s side; Fox did not hesitate to return his arm, his hand to its former position, clicking back into place. His body was relaxed, fluid. She couldn’t see his face. He gave no nod. He didn’t think he needed to.