[Emerson] Kill of the night

[Bjorn]

Bjorn snorted at the offered stickers, but motioned with his chin towards the roll of tape instead.

“There are some good people in this city, but plenty of assholes to balance it out too,” he commented, still tending to his wound. The ache remained, deep and steadily ebbing. Too sudden or demanding a movement, and he would likely re-experience the sharp pain. It’d be inevitable unless he stayed where he was, in which case the sun would leave him far worse than he was now.

“You gotta be able to hold your own,” he continued, slowly sliding his arm back through his sleeve. “I learned that the hard way, but I found some good folk when I needed it. You, uh, what’s your deal? You got people who got your back?”

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson put the sheet of stickers away and passed over the roll of tape to Bjorn when he asked for it. She raised her eyebrows at his comment but didn’t say anything for a while. There were good people and there were bad people, not only in this city but in this world as a whole. It was inevitable. People were selfish. People were jealous. People got annoyed and frustrated and sometimes there was nothing anyone could ever do about it. But, on the other hand, people were kind, and helpful, and welcoming. Emerson liked to think she was one of those people rather than an alleged asshole. “Yeah,” she finally said. “All kinds of people. I try to hang around the good ones.” The brunette shrugged her shoulders at nothing in particular.

“My deal?” Emerson titled her head to one side as she thought. There were people that looked out for her. Prudence, for one. Maddison for another. Robin too, probably. There were probably other people, too. Ones she didn’t know about at the time. Ones she had forgotten. That man, in her dreams. The one that she remembered giving her flowers and making her feel so safe and so loved. He must’ve been looking after her before, and it would’ve been nice to find him so she could be looked after like that again, but if she didn’t know exactly what he looked like and she didn’t know his name, she had no way of making that a reality.

“Yeah, I do. A handful. Like a little… family,” she said, lacking a better term. “I’m mostly just on my own, though.” Working, eating, sleeping, walking around the city and falling into the wrong situation at the wrong time - that was Emerson’s life in a nutshell. But she didn’t like too big of crowds, anyways. It worked for her. “I guess I’d have to learn to defend myself at some point, then. Especially with…” The girl paused, scrunched her eyebrows, and shook her head.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn hummed to himself when she spoke of family. He struggled to see anyone other than Lancaster as a makeshift relative, even if now he had the knowledge and ability to trace back his lineage. Why should he seek his sire out when he’d been left to fend for himself? Sure, he had questions regarding his turning—notably, why?—but he had no desire to delve into the past. It might eventually catch up to him, and he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

“Sanctuary’s got an equipped training room,” he said, his brow arching at her unidentifiable expression. For a moment, Bjorn presumed she was referring to the fadebeast. He cast a glance to it, noticing the way its ashen skin was starting to shift. Would it disintegrate the same way a Mooncalf did? He’d not stuck around long enough to find out the last time.

“Especially from what?”

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

“Sanctuary? Like a church?” Emerson asked. She wasn’t tied down to a particular religion, or one at all, and she couldn’t remember much of what she was exposed to from her family and friends as a human, so she wasn’t exactly sure of what to expect when it came to those types of things. Although she did have to admit to herself that a training room for fighting monsters such that of a Fadebeast seemed a bit out of place in an area of worship, she wasn’t going to judge. People had their things just as she had hers. Then again, she could be thinking up something that wasn’t even true. Regardless, she’d have to build up the courage to go to the training room at some point. Maybe she could bring someone along, to train with and ease her anxiety.

It was Emerson’s own fault for letting her mouth run before her brain could catch up. She hadn’t meant to bring up the fact that she felt that people were awaiting her in the shadows and around every corner with bad intentions, but it was out in the air. Could she brush it off? Pretend something else was bothering her? Probably. Bjorn didn’t know her enough to be able to tell if she was lying or not. What she meant to say was, "Monsters like that. I thought vampires were the end of the line," and nod in the direction of the fallen Fadebeast. What actually came out of her mouth was, “I think some men are chasing after me.”

As soon as that was out, Emerson was clamping her hand over her mouth, as if she could catch the words and push them back down her throat. She’d embarrassed herself enough already, literally putting the man’s life, as well as her own, in danger with her barely there gunshots. And now she was telling this stranger (because even though she knew his name, he was still, to an extent, a stranger) that people were out to get her. Or that she thought there were. She’d seen two distinct figures out of the corner of her eye as she walked during the night, in the background noise of the cafes. Unless it was all in her head. The girl had quite the imagination. “I dunno,” she mumbled quickly, wanting to get the conversation off her as fast as possible. “It’s probably nothing. Just me being paranoid.” She tried to wave the whole ordeal off with her hand.

[Bjorn]

“No, not like a church,” he chuckled.

It was fairly evident by her demeanour that Emerson had let out more than she was comfortable with. Bjorn knew better that to pry, and he honestly didn’t feel particularly concerned given the new nature of their acquaintance. It wasn’t really the time or place to delve into it either, though he spared a thought to the Crownet as he attempted to shift his weight. He wasn’t going to spend all night sitting here, watching the fadebeast dissipate into shadow and turn to ash.

The absence of her name on the bounty list closed the case.

“It’s a few blocks away from Wickbridge station, towards the wall,” he explained with a preparatory huff. Pausing his speech, he swung away from Emerson and towards the fadebeast and, in one fell swoop, got onto his feet with the momentum. The telepath was a mess of limbs as he moved, staggering unsteadily when pain seared through his midsection. Hunched over, but steady on his feet, he partially wheezed the rest of his words out.

“If you need a safe place to train, maybe even find others to spar with, it’s a good place to start,” he said, turning away to spit out fresh blood from his mouth. “I still hang out there sometimes.”

As Bjorn found his footing, he stepped towards the beast and pulled on the long blade’s handle. It slid away with greater ease than it had gone in, and in its wake left a trail of ash.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Wickbridge. Emerson had been there before - or at least she thought she had. Sometimes different parts of the city bled into one another. Sometimes towns were interchanged, often leaving her lost if she was in a less than familiar section of the city. However, she momentarily wondered why she'd never taken the transits before. They were probably open when she needed them to be, and thus, not very crowded. At least she hoped not. Besides, it'd be a safer and faster way of getting to and from work, or wherever else she wanted to go. A win-win situation, really. Unless men were actually following her and would change their routes as she did. There was only one way to find out.

The girl almost suggested that she help Bjorn stand as she watched him attempt to do so with a slight but noticeable struggle. She somehow knew that any sudden movement could accidentally tear open his wound, sending him back to square one in the healing process and under the wrath of newly budding pain, but Bjorn was up and on his feet before Emerson even got the chance to open her mouth. When she didn't see any signs of new discomfort, she packed away the first aid kid, slung her backpack onto her shoulders, and got to her own feet with as much grace as a baby fawn. Embarrassingly enough, she stumbled over her own feet. If she wanted to, she could blame that on the pain, although dull, that still remained at the base of her head. It had stopped bleeding, and Emerson frowned as she brushed flecks of dry blood off her fingertips. No more memory loss for me, she thought. She couldn't afford any more of it.

"Yeah, I could go." Her hand dropped down by her side. "Are there usually a lot of people?" As proven by her trip to a not so crowded but definitely crowded enough bookstore with Robin, Emerson plus people was a disaster just waiting to happen. She'd rather know beforehand that entering the building would end in some kind of well of panic or anxiety or embarrassment. Because then she would avoid the Sanctuary at all costs. Because that was her logic. "If we could go together, that would be cool," she shrugged, before quickly adding "but only if you want." Bjorn was under no obligation to help her in any way. They had only just met, after all, and the only thing that seemed to link them by anything was the fact that they were both vampires (even though the male didn't exactly come off as a vampire, she'd seen his mind tricks and could only assume. She wasn't that great at differentiating vampires from humans from whatever else yet, anyways). She'd only made the suggestion because she'd know Bjorn a bit more than someone else she'd never met before, and thus would be more comfortable. And she knew he was a good fighter. A better one than she was - although, that didn't take much.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn’s gaze was trained on the newfound weapon. As he balanced both blade and handle on two fingers outstretched beneath the pommel, he spared but a flitting glance towards Emerson. His brow furrowed as he twirled the sword, careful not to drop it before his fingers tightened on the handle. It was a solid weapon choice, and its previous owner was all the poorer for no longer having it. There were no markings to tie it back to its maker, nor any definite style he could pinpoint. What he did note however, was its lack of a sheath. It wouldn’t be hard to come across one, though he spared a thought to the impracticality of carrying such a long weapon around. A gun was easily holstered under the arm or at the hip, and a knife was easily tucked by his ankle, but this would not be a weapon to carry around unless he sought to use it. Considering most his trips to the city’s dank nooks and crannies consisted of portals and tomes, the telepath might easily find use for this sword without needing to alter his clothing style to inconspicuously incorporate it.

“I don’t do crowds so I tend to avoid it when there’s people,” Bjorn said. He gave the weapon another twirl before dropping his arm to his side, grip tight on the polished handle. The blade would need a wipe, if only to get the ash off.

“I usually stop by on my way home to check. I can give you a shout next time. Once this—” he motioned with his free hand towards his abdomen “—heals up and all. I could use a sparring partner. You got a job?”

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson watched as the weapon was twirled, examined, and twirled some more. It would definitely be labeled as more of a sword than a knife, and it would definitely be labeled as something the girl was lacking. She’d only just picked up her first weapon days ago, and it was an amateurish gun. Or, rather, she was amateurish. Maybe it would prove to be more useful than it had been previously if she knew how to use it. If she knew how to aim. If she knew how to remember to not leave her bullets too far away. Something good for close encounters would be useful to have. Her steady paycheck could probably afford a quality weapon. Her training could probably award her some skill to use it.

The girl hummed in agreement. With Bjorn not liking crowds, the events of them training together were promising. Emerson would be able to focus more on what she was doing than on how other people were analyzing what she was doing if the place was more or less deserted. And if she could focus, she could get better. Although fighting wouldn’t come as naturally as arranging flowers, if she was determined enough, she could make it happen.

“Oh. Right,” Emerson said, like she’d forgotten the male had totally just been mauled by a Fadebeast. How could she have? His clothing was a shredded mess and coated in crimson. “M’usually around kinda everywhere, but I have a phone. If calling would be easier." The brunette patted her hips for the device in the non-existent pockets of her leggings. The panic of losing a cellphone (again) made her a bit frantic as she reached back to touch one, then the other, of the side pockets of her backpack. Fingertips found the smooth screen, and with a small sigh of relief, she pulled it free to show him. “And yeah. I don’t work Saturdays, though.” Her thumb hit the power button to display the time. “I could probably adjust my hours if I needed to.”

[Bjorn]

Bjorn hummed at her response as it dawned on him that he’d never intended on calling her. It was a bad habit to form, but he’d been entirely prepared on intruding upon her thoughts whenever the time to do so arose. He turned his back to the moulting fadebeast to watch the screen light up her face.

“I actually meant—” he double-tapped his temple with two bloodstained fingers and explained himself without moving his mouth. The Charles Xavier trick would never get old, though he’d yet to even turn it into a habit given how seldom he reached into other’s minds.

[ More like this. ]

As the telepath lowered his hand from his temples, he brushed the ends of his fingers, cracked blood falling in dried specks.

“I’m not, I actually have been meaning to get a cellphone... I just think I’d lose it if I did, so if you don’t mind I’d rather…”

He tapped at his temples again.

There was always the option of her writing her number for him, which was far better an option than expecting him to remember it, the way Rowan had with her email address.

Maybe it was time for Bjorn to claim ownership of one of the many cellphones he picked up here and there. Up until now he’d made it a point of selling those in good condition, and using those in bad shape to practice his crafting, but being a telepath was limited when the other person didn’t possess the same ability in order to reply.

“Or you can swing by next Saturday? Sometime around, I don’t know, twelve or one?”

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Aside from checking the time - it wasn’t too late, but it wasn’t too early, either - Emerson looked through the few notifications she’d received. A daily text from Maddison, some email or another from the bank, a reminder that she still had yet to feed that day. The girl never really had the time or a desire to go out and grab someone to munch on. She wasn’t against feeding on humans, she just didn’t want to do so when it wasn’t agreed to by both parties. Usually, she just stuck to blood packs. Nuking them in the microwave for a bit did her just fine.

The brunette was barely just shutting her phone off again and tucking it away when she saw Bjorn bring his fingers to his temple before reaching into her mind and speaking to her. Emerson squeaked in surprise, looking at the male with furrowed brows. She slowly but surely put two and two together and her expression relaxed. “Yeah, ‘course. Whatever’s easiest for you.” Her thumbs tucked under the straps of her backpack. “I get it. I lost my old phone, actually.” She offered him a small smile.

“Next Saturday sounds good,” she nodded. “Just let me know ahead of time so I can be ready and find my way.”