Path of the Vampire forum

Sometimes what seems like a great idea turns out to be anything but that when the smoke finally clears. The sounds of metal working back and forth in a way that it wasn’t meant to was the only sign that something had to give and was going to ready or not. The sound of air parting under the force of dead weight dropping through was the last clue when the lighting fixture above the dance floor had held on as long as it could. The crash of it’s mass to the too blue flooring sent the shattering shards of glass back into the air like shimmering confetti. Silver orbs fighting to blink watched the floating pieces land around her. Her mind and her mouth still had no reliable connection and what was meant to be something close to ‘Holy **** I think I am dying’ came out as far from that as possible.

“Ditch choo! Sip!”

A soft clink next to her ear told her that she just lost one of her teeth with her bizarre words. Despite the obvious physical damage done she still knew it was a good idea to close her lips and keep what she had left. Which she quickly did.

Every single part of her body was on fire with pain that she couldn’t see any sort of end to. In fact, when she tried to move she was aware of just how many single hair follicles she actually had on her whole head. With the path of the bullet that was likely lodged somewhere too deep to reach she was feeling air in places she shouldn’t. It was getting really old. Being a storm chaser was starting to cost her a little more every time she stood in the path of the merciless eye of Hurricane Andras.

Her hand floated around awhile and finally made a landing over her face. She was too weak to even stop the stream of air floating into her skull with the power of self-healing. All her energy went to fighting Mr. Crab ***. Her body lifted and twisted as much as she could manage with part of her back blown all to hell. That was about as far as she got before other parts of her body decided against her wishes and it all went back to where it was before she started.

The battle worn necromancer figured if she rode out the next twenty four or more hours perhaps Bugs, Furious George, Juice or Percy would peel her *** off the dance floor while sweeping the place up. If not then someone was damn well losing their blow torch. A series of steps approaching caught her frayed attention but she was screwed if she was expected to react. A voice broke through as the scent of cool vampire she couldn’t recall meeting lingered over the space blocking her view of the shattered ceiling above her.

Piss him off was it? Oh she had a few words to say about that.

“Pits tish!”

With that announced she moved painfully slow but determined. Satine was damned that anyone she didn’t know beforehand was going to get to see her down and out on her back like she lost, which she really did. Her body lifted up to sit and her legs pulled forward until she felt she had enough surface beneath her questionable feet to stand on. A tip forward and she felt weaker than ever yet stronger just for rising to brace the ground in front of her with the her open palms. Her fingers inched closer together until her fingertips propped her up a little more. She pushed down and rose to her feet. A little dizzy and predictably wobbly the petite bloody headed necro was ready to face who walked in. She had next to nothing left to offer in another confrontation but what the hell. Not like that ever stopped her before.

Satine had a hard time standing straight when her legs felt like she was trying to rely on jelly to keep her *** off the floor. What was it going to take? She gave the woman the focus of her good eye while the other twitched and finally rolled back leaving a white show for what was surprisingly hanging on in it’s socket.

**** her? Well, **** her too.

The damaged vampiress let the thoughts stay right where they were. Chances are with the way her luck was going they would seep out of her ear canal or a bleeding nostril anyways. Her unusually pale hand found its way after a few flips and flops on the way up to her nose. One her fingers were cool with a coating of her own blood she wiped the evidence on the back of her skirt.

She boldly leaned over and after a long series of pinch and fumble attempts she corrected her stance to have the majority of her petite body teetering on her right foot. The tooth that had dropped out of her mouth was held gingerly as her busted fingers tried several times to slip it into the micro pocket at the front waistline of her black a-line pencil skirt. A skirt that had become something that given it’s condition would likely be used for rags or just burned altogether. Once A cracked nail caught on the material the other fingers somehow managed to stuff the pearly white down into the pocket.

“Sisni goot bifs.” Her attempt to say that the place would be good as new and hopefully quash any reports back to the unstable Hurricane Andras came out once again like she had a mouth full of marbles to work around. “Fut!”

While adjusting her shreds of blood saturated top over her bruised stiff shoulders she winced the eye that she had left to rely on. What was that? Her mind was in the processing department but she hears something that stuck hard and clear. Jayd. It was so difficult for her to refrain from repeating his name. A whisper came out instead as she stood there nearly defenseless to the effects of what she was unprepared for. Like something good had found a way to reach her and touch those places she hid really deep.

Could it be true? Even after the distance, the conflict and inner wars between her sister, her sire and the family that Jayd risked coming to her aid and did what the woman claimed? He sent the woman she was staring at, or at least giving her one eyed best effort at doing. Her silver orb tracked the hands that were lifted up to reveal no immediate threat. Not that she could do anything about it if there was. Spirits appeared and still she waited. No move was made towards the one source she had learned could give her just enough strength to repair what was in dire need on her body.

Every Andras.

Satine's tender jaw knotted up when the woman said it. It was announced with the tone that left no question she was proud to say it. She felt the ditance and it was suddenly colder to be standing where she was. It seemed like a universe away from where she should be. Or was it really?

Finally she made an effort to get hold of the one thing that gave her strength that was still currently in the club. A series of random clicks and groans from her lips she covered an impressive yard, give or take a few feet to where her custom weapon was still in one piece. A relief filled her that could only be topped by her body being wound free. Her left hand took hold of the ax that Micah had given to her. Chester. A bloody hand held on to the gift that would keep on giving. Just as soon as kings people residing in her twisted version of Wonderland came and put her humpty dumpty *** back together again.

“Saps.” She held it up her ax and lifted the opposite arm until she felt a mind blowing sharp pain jolt up from the movement to her brain which she was starting to feel. Her hands went up further to show she was not making any moves. Another spasm.“Fut!”