Path of the Vampire forum

Nyla was in an absolutely foul mood. This wasn’t new for her by a long shot, but it didn’t make the mood any less foul. The first time she’d tripped over something while searching the catacombs she chalked it up to simply not paying enough attention to where she was walking. The second time it had happened she’d glared at the random looking log like it was to blame for all of the world’s problems. She couldn’t understand what a log had been doing in the catacombs anyway; it wasn’t like there were trees down there.

The third time had been the last straw. After the log she’d been paying close attention to her surroundings so there was no way she could have missed the trip wire that caught her ankle. It had appeared like magic in her path, dropping her down to the ground hard and sending her sword clattering onto the floor. As soon as she’d been able to see past the anger, she picked her sword back up and swung it down in an attempt to slice the offending wire. Instead of meeting the resistance the wire should have given, her blade went undeterred all the way to the floor causing an obnoxious echoing sound to surround her. The trip wire had vanished.

That had been the last straw and she’d left the catacombs fuming. Logs and trip wires didn’t just appear out of nowhere, and they certainly didn’t vanish moments after tripping someone. Lately she’d been trying to work on controlling her emotions and moods, so instead of finding something socially acceptable to kill she was walking aimlessly through the city. It wasn’t exactly helping, especially considering she kept looking everywhere she was going expecting to find some new obstacle looking to trip her. The more she searched for another culprit, the fouler her mood became until she was walking with both her hands and jaw clenched tight together resulting in an aching jaw and her fingernails piercing through the flesh of her palms.

Nyla stopped, closing her eerily dark coloured eyes while trying to breathe and slowly loosen her jaw muscles. Her now bloodied palms were wiped against the outsides of her faded blue jeans leaving obnoxious red streaks before the shallow punctures began to heal themselves. Slowly but surely her jaw relaxed and the slight pinch of pain in her palms was gone altogether leaving her free to open her eyes once more.

The foul mood hadn’t been helped at all yet, but she knew she needed to get it under control. A dark area to her right called to her and without even questioning it she stepped forward until she found herself just inside of the dark shadowed place between two buildings. The blonde leaned so her back was flush against one of the buildings, uncaring if the plain gray t-shirt she wore got dirty from the action; all of her clothes got filthy so she was beyond worrying.

Now she was on to just breathing and trying to use the rhythmic motion of the useless function to comfort her body into thinking everything was okay. Her breaths in and out were her only movement as she kept her eyes trained outside of her little hideaway, watching the world around her with each breath.

Though the season had already begun, the Gridlock Gliders were always looking for new recruits. There was a process by which new recruits were found and eventually taken on board. There’d be a series of try-outs; Zelda would be present at all of them. She loved try-outs. She loved discovering fresh meat—teaching those sapling girls how to toughen up and take a hit. How to give a hit back, where it was deserved. She remembered being one of those saplings. She remembered how she’d appreciated the kindnesses sprinkled in with the bruises. She liked to be the calming, optimistic, happy salve. The light that the saplings followed, blindly, like she was some kind of wheeled, red-haired pied piper.

The fiery locks of her hair were pulled up into a high pony-tail. It was smooth as it swished from side to side, the ends of it tickling her one bare shoulders. She wore a skin-tight, red and white plaid jumpsuit, as if she were about to go swimming even though there was no large body of water nearby. Over the top she wore a pair of bright blue shorts, all torn and frayed; she wore a sparkling red bolero over her shoulders, though it had slipped off the left. The words ‘Crimson Catastrophe’ were etched into the back, cherries hanging from the last ‘e’.

The roller-blades she wore were not the ones she wore on the track. They were the ones she wore around the diner, while at work. Work, which she’d just finished. She was handing out flyers on her way home; swinging from sidewalk to sidewalk, across the street and back again due to traffic that did not exist. A smile was plastered upon her red glossed lips, her lashes dark and drooping in the dim light of the streetlamps.

She avoided anyone over the age of thirty. She avoided boys, even though there were definitely derby teams with boys on—the Gridlock Gliders were not one of them. They were an all-girl team. There was one girl who looked particularly sassy. She had headphones on and a violent expression on her face, her feet clad in heavy black boots. She showed some interest as Zelda approached, the back of the roller-blades scraping on the pavement so that she could halt her smooth movement.

”Hey there!” she greeted, before waiting for the girl to remove her headphones. She passed over the flyer, which gave the Arena as an address, and the date and time of the first round of try-outs.

”You look particularly feisty. Ever roller-bladed? No? Doesn’t even matter! That can be learned pretty quick. You might be surprised – you might be a natural. Swing by. Yeah? See you there? Maybe?” she grinned, and winked, and then moved on her merry way.

It was the bright blonde in the dark alleyway that caught her attention. The blonde hair was like the glimmer and spark of something shiny hidden in mud. Zelda had breezed on past the mouth of the alleyway; the blonde she’d caught in her peripheral vision. It crossed her mind, for a moment, that it was a bit odd that a woman should be hiding in an alleyway. But she was a young woman. Potential sapling material. Kind of. And so Zelda did a loop, happily circling back to that particular alleyway, to that specific darkness. She stopped just outside, remaining in the light provided by the street.

”You all good in there?” she asked, not even waiting for an answer as she thrust out a hand, flyer flapping in the light, cool breeze.

”Ever roller-bladed before?” she asked, ready to start the same old spiel she’d started with a dozen others over the past twenty minutes.

A floating pixie caught her attention as she continued to keep an eye on the goings on just outside of her immediate area. The vision she had seen slowly caught up with her while she stared at the spot the pixie had disappeared from. The sound she’d heard as the pixie had passed reminded her of passing a skate park, making her think the floating she’d seen may have been some type of wheeled creation.

Nyla was still forming the picture in her mind, trying to turn the pixie into something that actually made sense, when the sound she’d heard grew louder again bringing the pixie girl back into her line of sight. She stayed on the sidewalk, which was smart of her; dangerous things lurked in the darkness. Between the light outside of the alleyway and her heightened vision it was easy to make out the bright red girl, who she still wasn’t completely convinced wasn’t a pixie.

Pushing off slightly from the wall she’d been leaning against she took a small step forwards so she was still at least partially covered by the shadowy darkness. She hadn’t been able to confirm for herself that her eyes were in fact not the colour she’d always known them to be but black instead, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be careful about it. Thoughts from the night when she’d had her reflection seen still haunted her and at times she still awoke completely convinced she’d heard the sounds of an angry mob coming for her. Sometimes she didn’t wake up in time and instead her sleep was plagued with watching herself die in one manner or another; her subconscious was obviously way too creative for its own good.

Even that small step forward brought more of the pixie girl’s aroma to her. She inhaled, a reflexive action, bringing the sweet smell into her lungs and seemingly injecting it straight into her brain. It was a lovely smell; a delicious smell. Nyla wasn’t often the type to find herself drawn to feed and she was blaming the treacherous power that had caused her foul mood instead of letting the idea that her vampiric instincts were taking over percolate in her brain. She liked that reason much better.

Regardless of the reason, she kept her eyes locked on the pixie girl as she reached her hand out for the flyer that was offered. At least, that was what she’d meant to do, she thought. The moment she began to reach out she felt the tingling sensation signaling her fangs were beginning to descend and by then it was too late to stop it, even if she had have wanted to.

Bypassing the flyer entirely, Nyla’s thin fingers gripped around the girl’s wrist. She was oh so careful not to squeeze too hard, knowing full well that she had the power to completely pulverize the little pixie’s fragile wrist. She wasn’t gentle by any means either, however, and the grip she was using would possibly leave the wrist sore and bruised in the morning, the pixie completely unaware of what she’d done to it.

The second she established the grip she was springing forward, using her brute strength to trap the pixie against the nearest wall and completely uncaring of the light that she was now bathed in or anything else. All that mattered was this next feed. Her movements were quick, her elongated fangs sinking into the tender flesh of the pixie’s throat allowing the blood just beneath the surface to flow freely.

She’d had no need to feed prior to assaulting the pixie, so she was pulling away even sooner than she normally would have. She wasn’t frenzied with blood lust, at least. The blonde quickly sealed the wound just like normal, but after that it all went wrong. This was the part where she’d usually pull her vampiric mumbo jumbo on the human to leave them completely unaware of what had just transpired. Her focus, however, was completely broken by the fact that as she tried to retract her fangs like normal they wouldn’t go back. She could still feel the points of them digging into the inside of her bottom lip causing her to almost forget about the human in front of her while she tried to fix it – she had enough problems without fangs she couldn’t get rid of.

There’s a cheery smile plastered on Zelda’s red lips. Her honey eyes are wide and expectant, waiting for the blonde to answer her question; it’s an easy question, Zelda thinks, though it really is a wonder how many people take a long time to respond to it. As if skating, for them, is a childish past-time that they have to actually struggle to recall. Zelda nods encouragingly as the woman reaches for the flyer—still not answering the question. Maybe she’ll be able to remember exactly what roller-skating means when she sees the picture.

Instead of taking the flyer, however, the woman’s dainty hand curls around Zelda’s wrist. The force with which she grips defies her visage; if she squeezed any tighter, she’d surely break several bones.

”Ow, hey!” Zelda yelps, flinches, shoulders hunching as she does her best to pull back and away. She can’t, however. The grip is too strong, and besides which, she has no time. Even if she’d managed to pull her hand free, she’d still be trapped up against the wall. It happens so quickly she isn’t even aware of what’s happening until the canines have painfully ripped into the tender skin of her neck. She gasps, and the scream is caught dead in her throat. It comes out as a croak; instead, she’s preoccupied with taking a deep breath. A very deep breath, that she can use to push out an ear-splitting shriek. Which is exactly what she’s planning on doing.

The skates are no good for this kind of struggle. She fists her hand around the woman’s blonde hair, doing her best to wrench the teeth free of her neck. Her other hand is pummelling the woman’s shoulder. Her feet are flailing beneath her, the skates rolling uselessly on the pavement.

The struggle feels as if it’s dragging on; as if it’s a lifetime longer than what it really is. But soon enough the blonde has pulled away. Zelda no longer has the support of the woman’s body holding her to the wall. She loses her balance and slides to the ground, tail bone cracking painfully against the cement, her head smacking against the brick wall. She’s still dragging in a ragged breath as she lifts her fingers to her neck; she’s dizzy, but she’s aware that there’s no wound.

Finally, her lungs are full enough. She pushes herself up against the wall. Her mouth opens. Her honey eyes are wide as she looks up at her attacker. The scream that barrels from her throat is that of a frightened, desperate banshee.

No use shouting ‘Fire!’ No. A full throated scream is just as likely to lure a knight in shining armour. Maybe. In this city, the chance of a knight is dubious.

An ungodly shriek assaulted Nyla giving her a mental picture of someone dragging their nails down a chalkboard. The very sound made her teeth ache and her attention go right back to the little pixie in front of her. Whatever was wrong with her fangs took the back seat as her list of priorities was erased save for dealing with the pixie girl. In no more than a heartbeat Nyla was crouched down in front of the red head with her right hand clamped tight over the screaming mouth.

The look in her dark eyes was fierce as she glared at the pixie, willing the noise to stop. The sound had been loud and Nyla had no doubt that someone had heard. Chances are at least one of them would come out to investigate. The flicker of a light turning on in her peripheral vision made her realize that she might not have much time to fix this. She had to fix this.

Before she even realized what exactly she had planned she was flipping her phone out of her pocket with her free hand, using the few seconds she estimated she had before they’d be discovered to call Solara. The phone barely rang through once before the girl picked up. Hopefully she was at home and not at TBD. Nyla gave her no time to even complete her hello before she rattled on, knowing the seconds were precious and ticking by. “If you’re home open the door. If not, get there. Now.”

She said no good-byes, no pleases or thank yous either before hanging up the phone and stuffing it roughly back into the pocket it had come from. She could feel it to her core that her seconds were almost up and she had to move now. It never occurred to her that she could simply leave, that even if the pixie girl gave a description of her attacker that chances are she wouldn’t be believed.

Just as quick as when she crouched down, Nyla moved her shoulder down to press against the pixie’s stomach while moving her hand from the betraying mouth to wrap around the girl instead. It was weird thinking she was actually strong enough to do this considering how small she was. In the next beat of the girl’s heart Nyla was up with the girl over her shoulder. It was an awkward carry and she wasn’t exactly sure she could keep it up for long, but luckily she wouldn’t have to.

Not another second was wasted as Nyla took off, her speed growing until they were nothing more than a blur. She had to focus, looking at landmarks until she could figure out where she was and what the route home was. After only a few wrong turns and dead ends she had her bearings enough to make her way home. She ran down sidewalks, crossed deserted streets, ran between cars parked at stop lights and maneuvered herself around pedestrians on her way to the trailer park.

Solara was just moving out of the way as Nyla ran up the stairs and in through the door only stopping when she was able to place the pixie down on one of the kitchen chairs. “Not a word.” Was all she bit out at the pixie, hoping the shock from being carried at such high speeds would put her in enough shock that she’d actually listen. Once that was done she looked over to the stunned platinum blond in the flowy white skirt and bright orange off the shoulders long sleeved shirt. “Shut the door. Now. And find me some rope or duct tape or something.”

With that she turned her full focus back on the pixie. She wasn’t worried that she’d run or scream. Nyla was fast and could catch her or clamp her hand back over the girl’s mouth at a second’s notice. Now that she was back at her trailer with the girl however, her mind was starting to catch up with her and she was realizing just how deeply she’d dug herself. She couldn’t let the pixie see this. She couldn’t let the pixie realize how bad she was freaking out or that she had absolutely no idea what to do from here.

Zelda has been subject to a few dangerous incidents in her life. At least a few muggings, anyway, because assholes see her as an easy target. She likes that she looks rather innocent and easy. Likes that she has that, as a kind of cloak against what she really is. A feisty little creature who can throw a punch should she really need to. She loves the look of surprise when she manages to best someone who thinks she’ll start crying about a broken nail. **** that.

But never, ever in her short life has she ever been kidnapped. Oh, no. Not only has her mother taught her well not to wander the streets alone (that one, obviously, Zelda didn’t take fully to heart. How’s one really supposed to avoid walking the streets alone at night?) but her mother also taught her never to get into cars with strangers. Never to give a stranger the kind of information that will allow him or her to track you down. No, Zelda’s mother was a little bit paranoid about secrecy and privacy. Zelda was never one of those girls to give her email address willy-nilly to people online—oh, she knows quite well how they’re able to discover everything just with an email address. She knows, because she’s one of the ones capable of it.

Hacking into other people’s private affairs doesn’t help her here, though. The blonde looks weak—hell, she looks just like the easy target everyone assumes Zelda to be. But she’s not weak. Even though she’s only got one hand over Zelda’s mouth and using the other to play with her phone, Zelda can’t budge. Shoving and clawing at the woman does nothing, though she’s not using her full strength. Her head is spinning, and her limbs feel like they’ve been wrapped in steal. And anyway, it’s not long before she’s being hauled bodily from the ground; a gasp rasps from her throat as the world seems to turn upside down. Her stomach flips.

The next second, Zelda can see nothing but a blur. She’s certain that’s the ground moving along beneath her, but she can’t discern whether it’s gravel or cement, whether it’s grass or dirt. Her hair whips around her head and she holds her breath. As loathe as she is to do so, she grips madly at the woman’s clothing as she’s terrified of being dropped. She tries to lift her head, to at least try to figure out where they’re going or what the **** is going on, but it’s like she’s stuck on that damned graviton ride at the travelling fair—gravity keeps her stuck in place and she can’t lift her head to save her life.

When finally the world had become solid again, Zelda realised, very slowly, that she was in some kind of caravan. At first she thinks she’s seeing double, but then she realises there’s another person there, too. Another girl, who doesn’t at all like a threat. But she’s being told to get rope. Or duct tape. And Zelda then realises that she’s been kidnapped. ******* kidnapped. Kidnapped, for crying out loud.

The blonde has told her not to speak. Zelda, again, draws a ragged breath; she’s about to ignore the demand. She’s about to ask half a million questions, spiced with a quite a few choice swear words. Her voice catches in her throat, however. Her stomach has chosen that moment to flip right side up again. Her head still hasn’t quite stopped spinning. Instead of words spewing from her mouth, she’s projecting the evening’s meal all over the caravan’s floor. It smells vaguely of gravy, though pretty much just smells like acrid bile. It’s dotted with yellow bits of corn and god knows what else. Oh look! There’s a bit of the cherry she ate with desert.

She doesn’t even think to apologise as the last of it drips from her lips; as the back of her hand rises to wipe the drool from her mouth.

”What do you want with me?” she asks, eyes vicious as she raises them to her company. There’s that hardness, there—although she doesn’t say it, she’s thinking it: I hope you have fun, cleaning that up. You deserve it.

Nyla’s attention moved back to the pixie just in time to see and hear her empty what seemed to be the entire contents of her stomach all over the floor. Of course, as usual with such things, it wasn’t just the floor that received the overly generous gift of stomach contents; the table, chairs and Nyla’s clothes also received some of the projectile as well. They were far enough away from any walls that she hoped none made it there too.

She just stared at the pixie, her nose wrinkling at the smell that was assaulting her senses. She’d been ready for the girl to run, ready for her to scream or cry, ready for her to fight. There were even several more scenarios that the girl could have tried that wouldn’t have surprised her at all. Vomit was not on her list of what to expect.

A thud to her left broke the shocked spell she was in and she looked over to see the duct tape and some rope on the table. She heard the pixie’s question but didn’t answer her, speaking to Solara instead. “Could you go get me something else to wear please?” The girl didn’t hesitate in moving down the hall and disappearing from sight to do as she was asked.

She took two steps backwards, keeping an eye on the pixie as she did so. The move brought her up against the countertop that held the sink and was just below the cupboards where the few dishes she had were kept. Just to her right was a nearly full roll of paper towels which she grabbed, starting to unroll some as she walked back towards the table. Tearing off the groups of sheets the blonde began layering them over top of the worst of the mess until the roll was completely empty.

She didn’t exactly want to clean the mess up, but she definitely didn’t want the stuff on her floor anymore. Not once did she think of demanding the little pixie do it. After tossing the empty paper towel roll over to the corner she crouched down, doing her best to use the layers and layers of paper towel to round up the mess beneath. She was grateful that the sheer amount of paper towels was working as an efficient buffer between her hands and the feel of the throw up.

Nearby footsteps coming from the bedroom alerted her that Solara had returned. “Put the clothes somewhere clean and grab me the trashcan.” She didn’t move her eyes to watch the thrall, but heard when the garbage was placed next to her. With a grimace, she finished corralling in the mess and lifted the swaddled contents up and into the can. It wasn’t a perfect clean at all, but at least it looked like she’d gotten the majority of it and any of the chunks.

She wanted to jump in a bleach shower but made do with walking back to the sink and scrubbing her hands nearly raw before drying them off. The whole time she kept the pixie in her peripheral vision. A quick look revealed that Solara had placed her clean clothes on top of the table holding the game consoles just behind the chair where she’d placed the pixie. She didn’t walk the whole way over there at first, but carefully stripped out of the soiled clothes while she was still next to the garbage can and dropped them in along with the rest of the mess. She had no intentions of ever wearing those clothes again. Blood was one thing; vomit was something else entirely.

Solara still found it strange, considering how Nyla had been before that it was no so easy for Her to just drop what She was wearing. It hadn’t been the first time She’d done it since everything had happened, but She definitely hadn’t done it before. It was as eerie as the new eyes She had.

“What do I want with you…” The words were just as soft as before and spoken while she was stepping into the polka dotted pajama pants Solara had brought out for her. “I want for you to have not seen what you saw. I want for you to have forgotten what you saw.” She had to pause then, slipping the matching tank-top on before pulling her hair out from underneath of it. “Now I just need to decide what to do with that.” The words were calm, oh so calm. Inside the fear was starting to boil back up again. She didn’t know how to fix this.

Zelda can only watch, incredulously, as the blonde begins to clean up the mess. No fuss. Just starts to clean, like it’s not even a problem. Maybe it’s all an act. She doesn’t want her kidnappee to know that she’s actually angry, or bothered. And it works, too. Zelda’s seen the movies. She knows that any well-to-do kidnapper would make their victim clean up their own goddamn mess. An ordinary kidnapper would have her at gunpoint, on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. Right? But no such thing happens. Zelda can’t see any weapons. Not right away, anyway. The only reason she stays still is because she’s still recovering; although her gaze darts to the door, she’s not sure she’ll make it without careening sideways and knocking herself out against a hard surface. And besides, it’s freaking her out. It’s freaking her out that this woman is commanding this other woman around. That the other woman just does what she’s told, without a peep, without a muttering of protest or suggestion. It’s freaking her out that her question isn’t answered—that she has to wait for the woman to finish cleaning up, to strip down to her underwear and get changed, first.

The semi-nakedness doesn’t bother Zelda at all. She’s used to it, if not full-nakedness. The change rooms at the Arena were always full of very rowdy women peeling their clothing away from bruises and gashes, or just simply changing before and after a game. Always a little bit more rowdy after, of course, especially after a game has been won. Zelda has seen her fair share of female nakedness. She understands the blonde’s reasons. She wouldn’t want to stay dressed in puke-ridden clothes, either.

Zelda fights to regain her focus, and her composure. Her breathing had been fast and laboured; by the time the blonde had finished cleaning herself and most of the mess up, Zelda’s breathing is even and controlled. Her knuckles are white as her fingers cling to the edge of the chair; her eyes are bright as she stares up, incredulously, at her captor. She didn’t look threatening before, but now she looks even less so, dressed in polka dot pyjama pants. The skates are still on Zelda’s feet, and this, too, is part of the reason why she hasn’t moved. They might make it a little difficult to get free, especially when she doesn’t know what’s on the other side of the exit. Regardless, she places some of her weight upon the skates. They slide against the floor, only slightly, creating a mini sound of thunder beneath her feet. It’s that sound that encourages her. Oh, she’s capable of so much when in that Derby ring. Why not now, too?

She doesn’t ask why the woman doesn’t just kill her, then, if she doesn’t want her to know anything. She doesn’t beg, either, or promise she won’t say anything to anyone. It’s not in Zelda’s nature to beg. Not on your life. And she would never forgive herself if she doesn’t at least try.

And so she holds her breath, heart pounding in her chest. One, two, three!

One foot forward, she pushes herself up and out of the chair. She launches toward to the door, the thunder of the skates against the floor reverberating up her legs, splattered with her own puke. She gasps as she slams against the door, fingers curled around the handle. She pushes herself back just a little so that she can wrench the door open, which she does—and then stupidly risks a glance over her shoulder.

She hadn’t really thought much about the roller skates, not until she noticed the slight shift in the pixie. She could have stopped her from making it to the door, tackled her at the door or even just torn her away from it after she’d wrenched it open. She did none of these things. She’d just had to clean up vomit, which wasn’t even completely done yet and had even gotten on her clothes. Simply stopping the pixie or pulling her back wasn’t good enough to cover all that.

Instead, Nyla waited until the door was wrenched open by the pixie and ran, letting the power inside of her ignite in that wonderful way that allowed her to move so fast. She may have already done this once tonight, but she found it easy to do again. Maybe the fact that the distance she wanted to travel was so small was the key?

She had to duck as she ran, which was rather awkward and had her glad she wasn’t any taller than she was. Running fast didn’t allow someone to run through things, but luckily the pixie had left enough room underneath of her arm for Nyla to run through. There was no removing the wind caused by her movement, which left her to only hope the pixie would match it with the fact she’d only just opened the door. Not that it would matter.

The blonde didn’t stop right at the threshold, but instead ran out of the house, down the stairs and turned herself around in the driveway to run back up the stairs and stop just in front of the pixie. Her viewpoint allowed her to see Solara in the background shaking her head while holding the Swiffer. Excellent; Nyla wasn’t going to have to finish cleaning up the mess at least.

“Going somewhere?” Again, she didn’t raise her voice, choosing to keep it in the cool and calm tone. As soon as the pixie’s attention was on her, she moved forward, man-handling the girl back inside and shutting the door behind her as soon as she was clear. “We can’t have that.”

She didn’t pick the pixie back up; only because she’d skated her way through the remnants of her stomach contents and Nyla didn’t feel like changing a second time. She went through clothes fast enough as it was. “Solara, can you open the gate for me please? I think that’s a lovely place for our new friend to hang out for a while.”

The thrall did so without question, allowing for Nyla to easily navigate her way to where she normally performed her rituals. It was at the far North West corner of the trailer, and the entire corner was completely gated in. In her mind she knew the metal bars wouldn’t really keep the demi-fae locked in if they were to escape, but it made her feel better just the same. The girl was lucky she’d recently moved all of the severed heads and other body parts over to the cabinet just on the other side of the gate up against the wall.

She didn’t close the gate, but leaned against the metal bars instead as she continued to stare at the pixie. She was so screwed. “Why don’t you just have a seat now; make yourself at home? Solara, can you bring me your phone please?”

She’d been about to ask for her own phone, but then realized she hadn’t removed it from her pants pocket before tossing it into the garbage can. She’d get a new one later. Solara handed the phone to her and then went back to Swiffering the floor. Nyla had made sure all her contacts were placed in Solara’s phone in case the girl got into trouble, so had no problem looking for the name she wanted. He was going to kill her, but she had no idea what she was doing.

After tapping the “call” button next to the contact’s name she put the phone up to her ear and listened to the rings, preparing herself for Micah’s usual charming greeting.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Micah> He could hear footsteps coming from somewhere to the west of him. Taking advantage of the shadowed corner just to the right of him Micah quickly slipped in and let the shadows cover him. The footsteps moved past and when he could no longer hear them he darted from his hiding space and headed for the door that would take him to the next floor. He never saw the guard as she came up behind him and one smoke bomb later he was standing outside the building. As he stood there glaring at the building his phone vibrated and without looking at the display he grabbed it from his pocket and answered. “What?”

<Nyla> Nyla snickered into the phone at the familiar greeting. “Hello to you too! ‘What?’ is a very good question.” She turned to look at a noise behind her, watching as Solara put the Swiffer back up and started rooting around in the cupboards. Nyla’s attention went back to the pixie as she knew exactly what Solara was doing; baking. The smell would soon fill the trailer. “I seem to have done something… I was hoping to get some advice on how to uh… fix it.”

<Micah> He recognized Nyla's voice but that didn't do anything to improve his mood. “Hello to you too,” he mimicked and started to walk away from the building he'd just escaped from, grumbling under his breath. He could hear activity on the other end of the line and wondered what Nyla had done this time. He didn't hear from her much unless she needed him which he was ok with. At least she knew she could turn to him if she had to. “Why do I have the feeling that I am not going to like this?”

<Nyla> “Probably because you aren’t…” The girl couldn’t help but flinch, knowing full well she was going to catch holy hell for this. “I messed up. Really bad.” Her words were slightly altered than usual as she was still not used to the feel of having fangs in her mouth when she talked. “I couldn’t retract and I freaked out and lost my concentration. The girl wasn’t confused. She screamed, so I grabbed her and ran her back to my place and well…now she’s here. At my trailer.” She stopped talking then, mentally finishing her thought of I’m so ******* dead in her head, feeling no need to say this aloud.

<Micah> Micah stopped dead in his tracks. Surely he didn't hear her right did he? He replayed Nyla's response over in his head a couple of times and came to the conclusion that no, he hadn't been mistaken. Lovely. Trouble always seemed to find Nyla without fail and he was starting to wonder if she was bad luck. Was that even possible? He was really beginning to think so. “Now let me get this straight and feel free to correct me if I am off base here. You fed off of a human and you couldn't retract your fangs. She freaked out and you decided that kidnapping her was the right course of action?” His voice was deadly calm which was never, ever a good thing. Kind of like the calm before the storm.

<Nyla> ****, ****, ****. She’d known he was going to be upset with her, but surely this was better than continuing to dig herself deeper without asking for help, right? Deciding that she needed to put at least a little bit of distance between her and the pixie she took a couple of steps backwards before closing the gate and clicking the lock shut. It was one of those combination locks and there was a spot for it on both sides of the gate so she could keep it locked no matter which side she was on.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. I was so angry. Something was putting stuff in my way and making me trip. I was trying to calm down so I went for a walk. The pixie just came out of nowhere and the smell… I didn’t even mean to bite her. She screamed so loud I didn’t know what else to do.” By now she was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, still keeping her eyes locked on the pixie incase she tried something. Again.

<Micah> He sighed a scrubbed a hand over his face. A magnet for trouble, that's what she was. But she was his responsibility since Jax had disappeared and he took his responsibilities seriously. Though he didn't even know where to begin with this mess. Jesus Nyla had become a kidnapper. “What do you need for me to do Nyla? I admit that I don't even have a clue here.”

<Nyla> “Help me take it back?” The words sounded utterly defeated, even to her own ears. She knew where this was going and she just wanted to take it back. She still blamed herself and felt guilty for taking Solara’s life from her, but at least she still had her humanity.

<Micah> How could he be mad at her now when she sounded like that? He was to a point, but it sounded like it was just one of those things that always happened to Nyla that couldn't be changed. "You know I can't do that. I...Nyla you've got a big problem here. She's seen you and she can recall what you did. Something happened that she wasn't left dazed like humans normally are. And you've kidnapped her now. I want to say that the best open is to sire her but I don't know how you'd feel about that."