Path of the Vampire forum

Posted: **10 Jun 2016, 16:06**

The pen traveled across the paper as the hooded figure glanced down to the page. Written in meticulous, neat little letters were a list of warehouse locations. Of course, Azraeth's ability to get into anywhere with substantial security was, at best, a joke. However, he had his ways of getting into places when he needed to. "What do you mean you didn't see it? That's the last possible place it could be." He complained to the specter looming around him. Avignon, originally called Hollister, was Az's wraith, had been for years. With a thick French accent, it was clear how the spirit had gotten the name. In fact, it had taken Avignon a long time to pick up even the most rudimentary English. Serpentine pupils dilated, slowly dragging in light as he glanced upwards from the pad. Every last lead had been completely exhausted.

The mystic reached out, his fingers pressing through the shadows which seemed to comprise his summoned ally. There was this chill that felt almost like cold electricity rushing along his spine. And then he was suddenly looking at himself through the ghost's eyes. Az had heard of people who could not control the beings they dragged out of the Shadow Realm, and he couldn't understand that. Part of having chosen a new name for the entity had been imposing his will on Avignon. They did not have discussions, they had the distribution of orders and the summary execution of those orders. "Go." The vampire said, and that was when the spirit began to move once more, suddenly retreating from him into the dimly lit warehouse. Why Az hadn't just done this to start was beyond him. He was just enough of a control freak that he needed to see it with his own eyes. Had to be absolutely sure.

Seconds later, the wraith was creeping along a long line of crates. It seemed to be some kind of deep storage. Some of the things inside had a thick layer of dust. It had been years since many of them had been touched. There were stacks of crates on enormous racks reaching all of the way up to the 50 foot ceiling. The box Az was looking for had been shipped during the second world war from Germany. When the Americans had rolled through, liberating Nazi households of precious pieces of art and objects of historical significance, the relic which Azraeth was searching for had been buried in one of a dozen or more trunks. He had been systematically searching for it over the past six months, gradually going through each and every possible place it might have been. It was only by chance that the last one was in Harper Rock. Home base.

All of the evidence. Every little piece of information he'd gathered, said that if it wasn't amongst the items in the crate inside of this enormous warehouse, then finding it was going to be next to impossible. In the wind, like the ashes of a dead man.

So Avignon crept towards the object of Az's curiosity. And then, when it was there, the being began to carefully pressure itself through the physical aspect of the crate. It pushed through layers of junk. Old weapons. Memorabilia. Pieces of history that belonged in museums. Art that had been lost for decades. And yet. None of it was what Azraeth was searching for. He checked twice. Three times. A fourth time. And then he growled a low sound before he cut the connection with his wraith so he could begin on his way home. Normally he would have just used his tome to immediately appear yank his form to the tether that was his ritual altar. However, he needed some time to think.

If it wasn't there, what did that mean? Maybe one of the soldiers had stolen it? What then? It had been decades. In fact, the world was only one generation away from it having been an entire century since WWII. If a soldier had stolen it, it might have been destroyed. Or lost. Searching out every single man who had touched it, as well as their ancestors would take ages. Was it really worth him to have it in his personal collection?

Of course it was.

There was also the chance it had been incinerated. Or overlooked. Or that it had been pawned off somewhere. He had already been forced to go back to the drawing board twice. But as the 'Curator', he had a responsibility to find those ancient and potentially mystical treasures. They were really only safe under his fingertips. Kept away from the potential dangers of anyone else who might somehow abuse their power.

Perhaps one of his contacts might have information.

Posted: **17 Jun 2016, 10:10**

Inside an old Victorian home not a living soul peeped, though one of the dead had been scheduled to arrive in the next few hours. An overgrown garden behind the house in need of dire trimming offered a beautiful escape from the grim reality of this location in particular serving a dual purpose of both household and mortuary. Thick with wisteria and ivy that competed to overthrow a small barn like shed, this garden offered year round delights of flowering plants for all seasons with many trees to provide plentiful shade from the sun's callous rays.

There rested in one corner a healthily sized koi pond framed with bamboo beside a small iron table and chair where a young woman sat. Her hair was a sun kissed gold while seasonally managing to darken with grey during the winter months. An all-white sun dress and black lace boleros had been the chosen look for the day, her shoes forgotten at the back door's entrance. Her name was Lilith, the youngest and only daughter to the family that owned the house and business. In her delicate fingers she cradled a book with a weak spine that had seen a great deal of abuse over its nearly hundred years of existence. It was just one of many treasures she had broken her back to acquire for an interesting group of four young women.

Occasionally, bright eyes that were neither green nor blue would glance almost nervously from the Latin words transcribed into each page to an object that sat on the paint chipped table. She worried her bottom lip stained a rosy, faded red with her teeth and trained her focus back onto the piece of history in her hands, a journal. She was keeping an old item safely at the bottom of her lucky leather backpack wrapped up in worn out linens speckled with holes and the occasional paint blotch. Why was this bag lucky? No reason in particular. Lilith had a tendency to declare these things on a whim without experiential backing to support the claim.

She had been instructed to carry it with her wherever she went and not to leave it unattended, to treat it like a child in a crowded room filled with strangers until a given night and that night was fast approaching. It gave her an odd feeling, every time she looked at it. The way the four witches had behaved when delegating the tasks to individuals set her bones with uneasiness. No one wanted to claim this artifact and in hindsight that might have meant something vital that Lilith had not concerned herself with at any moment during their last meeting.

Save the noisy conversations of birds and a mewling feline that was sunbathing a short distance away with sleepy eyes, there had been only the rustle of pages turned carefully by the girl until from the front of the house a door slammed shut. Was it mother, father or brother? Lilith gently but quickly closed the book and packed it into her bag which she pulled from the table. She got up in a flurry of motion and rushed out into the sun where her feet met with hot stepping stones that she jumped away from, her form weaving through the various patches of shade and light until she made it to the back door where she quickly pulled ankle wrap wedges in an off white color onto her feet and inside the house.

She was greeted by the sudden stillness and a rush of motion from her peripherals that disappeared behind a wall, "Hello?" She called out with a frown and large eyes while turning a corner in the house. Lilith stopped within the half-circle archway giving passage to the formal living room that also doubled as consultation room where she observed a young woman decked head to toe in black with wild blue hair lounging about on a leather arm chair while gazing off into a mirror to admire her own reflection. Lilith cleared her throat, causing the blue haired female to focus forward. She called herself Mab and was the most spontaneous of the four. Mab often arrived to their meetings either drunk or higher than a kite and she cursed like a sailor.

"Heeey, sweet girl." Mab gave a cheeky smile that highlighted the crow’s feet at the corners of her heavily colored eyes that demanded attention away from her thin lips and hallowed, almost sunken in cheeks. Lilith, awash with confusion failed to respond, instead she stuttered, "Wha-w...h-" Noticing the futile attempt and the guffawing witch in her home she took a few moments to gather her thoughts into a coherent sentence. "How did you find my house?" She asked more firmly. Lilith had never given her address to any of the girls. There wasn't the desired element of trust between them all yet, and, if Lilith had to name a witch she trusted least, it was Mab.

"Don't worry about that!" She dismissed her concerns immediately; Mab's glaring white contact lenses showed more clearly the direct location of her gaze. She raised a grossly long finger nail varnished with red and pointed towards the bag, "Is that it?" She asked side-eyeing the item with a subtle scrunch of her nose that furrowed the brow and lifted the cheeks. Lilith's gaze dropped to the bag freely hanging by one strap from her left shoulder and gave a cautious nod. Pulling it around and lifting the flap she dug the bundled linens out and waved it in her hand before replacing it in the bag.

"Good. There's only three more days left until our next ritual. I came for two reasons; one was to see if you were able to procure the item." She shrugged indifferently before rising from the chair making quick strides on long legs towards Lil. "I'll see you later." Mab dropped a heavily ringed finger on Lilith's shoulder before passing her and moving towards the front of the house to the double stained glass doors. "Mab!" Lilith called after the woman while turning on her foot, "What was the other reason?" She didn't get an answer though Mab turned her head and winked before slamming the doors so forcefully that Lilith could feel the house shaking beneath her feet.

The next person to enter those doors was her mother who passed Lilith with not a word, but a glare as she walked up the twisting stairwell with stiletto points noisily echoing against the old wooden steps. A heavy feeling weighed against Lilith's chest as she rose from the chair in the office and moved out of the house and out of the way of adversary. To be clear, her mother was a perfectly well-adjusted and polite woman... except when Lilith had exposed her dirty secret to her father. For the last three years, Margaret had been seeing other men, a habit that continued even as she still lived in the house with a pending divorce looming over her head.

Lilith walked with the leather bag against her back out into the street for a stroll out into the city that her house rested on the skirts of. Her head hung low with glassy eyes straying from the vibrant lights of illuminated street signs and the headlights of cars until she felt a soft nudge on her shoulder that caused her to look sideways. "Not now." She mumbled to the empty space beside her, it nudged harder this time. Her head titled with a long sigh. They were passing the favorite restaurant of her 'imaginary' friend. Lilith didn't know who or what the entity was but they appeared at random intervals on constant basis since she was a young child. She called the thing that chilled the air near her shoulder August and crossed the street, weaving between the bodies of people towards a cafe.

She didn't particularly like the cafes in this town; they had an unexplained tendency to creep her out half the time. But she passed beneath the door way which announced with its bells her arrival while taking a look at the desserts featured behind the glass. There came a growl in her stomach but to be truthful she wasn't at all that hungry. Still, Lilith walked up to the counter in the mostly empty establishment and ordered for herself strawberry shortcake that was kept inside a plastic bowl casing that was pulled out from behind the window. With the proper exchange of money she was free to take a seat behind one of the red leather booths.

Posted: **22 Jun 2016, 15:21**

There was a loud thunk as the solid mahogany desk was thrown onto its side, not an easy feat considering the files on either side, filled with histories and reports, and any number of documents of ownership and authenticity. A crash as the antique student's desk lamp hit the ground and the semi-cylindrical shade was crushed. Papers flew everywhere, like the spores of a cotton-head weed blown into the wind for the sake of wishing. What had once ben neatly stacked racks, pens, and an enormous calendar to go with his daily planner, there was nothing but a mess. Thankfully Bertram had decided to follow him from the Beta apartment. The human servant of his sibling immediately began to pick up the items one by one. Without order. Without comment. The item had surfaced for the first time in decades, and Az had completely overlooked it. He was still gathering together the scant details, but he knew he wouldn't find out much because secrecy was the code of his business. If someone wasn't careful, an item in their possession could earn them a knife planted cleanly between the ribs. That was how dangerous the game was. Because the people who wanted these symbols, these relics, these artifacts of mystical significance were generally wealthy and used to getting their way.

Bertram wouldn't be able to right the desk. Too heavy. So Az leveraged it and helped him to get it back right side up. Working for the Dragomir was a trying practice at the best of times. Azraeth was easily one of the most reasonable. The mediator. The careful planner. The negotiator. However, even he was known to give into the darker side of his personality. At one point Bertram had told him a few of the tricks he used to clean up after their messes. Red kerchiefs so that he didn't have to waste time pre-soaking white. A mixture of equal parts zinc oxide and salt formed into a paste to deal with holes in the wall, and then a little paint to clean it up. It was easy to get stains off of almost anything if you knew how. The right combination of baking soda or vinegar, or lemon juice. And the Dragomir offered Bertram ample opprotunity to clean up messes. A task which had normally been Az's, and the reason for his own curiosity. These days, Azraeth handled bigger fish, and broader strokes. He didn't clean up directly. He ensured that evidence never hit the web or paper, or any other potential news sources. Even though secrecy of vampirism was slowly dying. Well. That didn't mean the Dragomir had to paint a target on themselves did it?

Careful planning. Careful steps made. In fact, the outburst, the literal table (or in this case desk) flipping was wildly out of character. Az blamed the closeness to the full moon. It was the seventeenth, and they were just three days away. He could feel his power leaving him. He could feel every drop of it dripping from him like a pig hanging upside down in a processing farm, blood seeping out of a single wound. When the full moon came, he would be almost entirely human. No powers. No connection to the magic. Left only with his preternatural intellect, and speed, and strength. He hated it. And yet every month was exactly the same. Every month he knew the moment would come when he couldn't summon that ball of light in his palm, or walk across the surface of the water, or worm his way into the minds of those around him. When he had first realized, he'd hidden himself away. Isolated himself. Buried himself under tons of stone in the crypt beneath the Dragomir Temple. But doing nothing was the weak man's gambit.

So he had taken to performing a ritual every single month. A prayer to the moon or to the gods, ancestors or past dragons. He didn't know and didn't care. Ritual had become habit, and he couldn't stop himself. It was part of him. But the anxiety was still there. The worry that if he missed it, he would be without the power he had worked for half a decade to build.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it to listen. A few brief sentences. No questions asked. There was the click of a landline being put down on the other end. "Avignon." He called out a second later, summoning his wraith. The being appeared almost instantly, a blotch of darkness against the wall. "Apparently it was a local exchange. I want you to begin exploring options." Of course it had been local. Harper Rock. Mecca for the supernatural world. Ground zero for vampires. The city of monsters, and demons, and darkness. Of course. But at least the search was back on.

- - - THREE DAYS LATER - - -

The moon was full overhead. Illumination poured down over the scene in the heart of the wilderness. If Az was afraid of the Fae deciding to intercede, it wasn't obvious. On his face was a canine skull. He looked through a wolf's eye sockets. A long nasal bridge, the maxilla stretched out in front of him, with sharp, polished canines jutting down over his mouth like daggers. The effect shadowed the lower half of his face. The rest of the skull was fitted under his chin and bound to the top by thin straps of leather. He looked down over the stone altar in front of him. He could see fear in the eyes of a man who had been forced to wear a mask of cervine bone. There were deer antlers branching out from overtop. He was bound in place by ropes and Azraeth held a knife in one hand. The pair were nude save for the facial adornments.

They were in sync. Breathing the same way. There was only one heartbeat, but it had kicked into high gear. Faster. Faster. More terrified with each passing moment. Until it abruptly stopped when pierced by metal. Blood ran over that stone altar. A corpse was left for the crows and wolves. The vampire screamed louder than the human had. He was covered in blood as he began back towards the city, dark red congealing onto his otherwise pale flesh. No magic. No power. But the ritual was completed, and he would be safe in the following month.

He heard a voice, but saw no face. One day out of the month, he couldn't see Avignon. He hated it. But it seemed the item had surfaced. It was time to find it. Especially if the rumors he'd heard about it were true.

Posted: **09 Jul 2016, 07:54**

Lilith felt ill at ease that night as she walked a dark narrow path into the woods. The strangeness of Mab's visit still lurked in her mind and set a rigidness in her bones. The young, mortician's apprentice was not normally considered skittish. Nothing that went bump in the night could have scared her in the past, no threat of death could have stirred her into even the slightest of worry. Tonight was different. It was one dangerous encounter after the other. With the wrapped up relic and a small rabbit clutched tightly to her chest she felt that the slightest breeze at her neck could send her jumping out of her porcelain skin. Not only was it too dark for travel but the wilds had a life of their own and so did these trees.

There were times were Lilith thought she could see something dancing from the corner of her eye though she could never be sure if this was due to lack of sleep or the discomfort playing a trick against her mind and eyes or if it was August out to play. But she had not seen eye or tail of her imaginary friend since her adventure to the cafe.

The ground was cool against the bare pads of her feet and she could feel the foliage and dirt with each step and it was these sensations she kept her mind focused on and not the rustling of trees on the wind or the sound of birds and other nocturnal creatures sweeping the wooded floor.

Earlier, the heel of one shoe had snapped beneath her weight spontaneously, her blood red cloak then caught on the branch while she herself had to duck low and remain hidden having heard the conversation of canines passing through. There had been wolves in this part and she had been unlucky to find them. Beautiful though they were, and often scared of humans, Lilith was not about to test her fate with a pack of them as she waited low inside a bush for them to pass.

The wolves were not as concerning, however, as the mountain lion was. Their only warning had been a low grumble and the inaudible snap of twigs their powerful paws walked over while stalking through the body of slender tree trunks. This large cat crept along for food with a stealth that Lilith had only observed in wild beasts. The animal had forced her to remain hidden behind a rock for over an hour with her hand clutched tightly to her beating heart. It was here that she acquired the brave rabbit that had arrived within distinguishing distance of her sight and had grabbed before it could launch itself towards death. Mid-jump, she buried the animal beneath her cloak in hopes that it would survive the panic she brought to it.

Now she was late, she just knew it, and she could already hear Mab's laughter wailing in her ears as she trudged, dismayed, quickly forward. As far as this cult, pardon, coven, was concerned Lilith was little more than the errand runner and she wondered how much longer it would be for them to consider her seriously. Lost in her thoughts and without light, a sudden awareness arrived that she had reached her target location. There was silence. There was darkness and the vague darkened shapes of the objects between them on the ground surrounding a large tree stump. Odd.

"Very funny. Jenna, I brought your 'relic' with me so if you and the others could come out now that'd be wonderful." Not believing what she said, she tested the surroundings, thinking that the lack of activity was a joke being played on her as her eyes peered into the pitch. She considered also that the ritual taking place tonight was a farce. An excuse to make the young occultist venture into the dangerous wilds all alone. She also considered then that she had arrived too late, and everyone had gone. Taking a side step, Lilith turned slowly and cautiously with eyes straining, only barely making out the shapes of trees in the distance which were slightly illuminated by an unknown source of light.

Chewing on her lower lip, she felt the rabbit squirm and fastened her grip on the small thing. Holding it now, selfishly, for her own comfort. She walked around the site, stubbing her toe on a chest that she hopped away from without screaming out. In place of a wail formed a twisted frown anchored to her visage while the hair on her arms started to raise as she paced around the stump. "Cas-"

"--sie?"

Wet. Calling to one of the girls, instead of a hello, or an overly amused indication of a prank, she was greeted by a warmth beneath her feet while a cold liquid trailed over her skin. But, there hadn't been a drop of rain this evening, though, she recalled as she stood within a puddle... and the floor elevated with tree roots had been quite dry up until now. Stepping out of the liquid her foot placed itself in the path of a fleshy texture in the shape of a hand.

Blanched as the blood drained from her face and momentarily frozen, Lilith processed what she felt and then lowered herself cautiously in the dark. The wrapped relic was shuffled into the hand with her new companion who was motionless, but alive as she could feel their tiny heart beat against the white lace of her shirt. Reaching forward with her newly freed hand to feel around the darkened silhouette beneath, there existed the still warm contours of a heavily pierced face covered in the same warm fluid that she had stepped in.

There was no breath, no sign of life escaping from either nose or mouth when it was finally understood that, unmistakably, Jenna lay before her dead. In a pool of possibly blood, not breathing, thus, was dead far out in the wilderness. Being surrounded by death it was the most logical conclusion to make. What happened next was purely instinctual. Not lingering long enough to find the remaining corpses, the young blonde ran towards the unknown light that was coming from within the wood. Where there was light, there was people. Where there was people there was help. Or so she assumed.

Posted: **11 Jul 2016, 15:34**

N P C + P O S T

Octavia Mura of the Lionelli

I feel the whisper of the wind across my flesh as white chiffon and lace drag soft over the sensitive alabaster that is my skin. It floats like a cloud. It clings like death. Redness congealing the fabric to me like a flower unable to fully bloom. Frustration ripples through me like a child hammering the surface of once still waters, until I can feel it foaming white and angry up to the surface. I have left behind the corpses of a few humans. Foolish children who do not understand the weight of the games they are playing. Who do not understand the power I command, nor the power I seek to gain.

I can hear their screams still in my head even a short time after they have fallen cold and silent. I stood there for several minutes afterwards, feeling their blood rush over my fingertips. Around my neck is a gold choker with a single bright garnet, the focus by which I command my magic. Willpower. Focus. Effect. These are the steps which lead to successful use of power. Efficient. Taught to me by my sire, who was taught by his before. My palms glow eerie and white, illumination pouring out of them as I move my way through the wilds toward the safety of the city streets. Away from the dangers of the fae.

Still, I feel my rage bubble. I had been promised a relic of some power. I had been promised a focus by which to channel arcane energies through. A gift for my first turned childer. To ensure he is of use to the Lionelli. Because we only keep the strong. Because we only keep the useful. All else are to be killed and discarded and killed again until their will has diminished and they are nothing. Or until they learn their lessons and fight alongside us as we seek to acquire more and more power. Only a few months ago, we suffered a substantial loss as the other vampires of Harper Rock decided to attack. We faired better than the Order of St. James. Better than the Brotherhood. Still, we are not as strong as we should be.

And the pressure continues to mount. Results. That is what the bloodline desires. One could say it's coded into our very blood. The desire for perfection and the acquisition of control.

I slaughtered those girls because they did not have what I wanted.

If I have to pave the streets with blood until I find it, that's what I will do.

And, as if by magic, I hear the approach of a body. I hear the crunching of limbs and dry grass. I whip around, hair like rubies drawn behind me. Blood glues what was once a white dress to my pale skin. My eyes are gold and they take in the scene before me. A young woman. What is she holding so close?

I recall the report. There were supposed to be four of them weren't there? It's not like me to forget the small details. It's no coincidence she's there. There and ready to hand over what I desire. My hands slip up, still glowing. They each form a crescent, the curves aimed at each other. Hovering in front of my choker. Flanking and forming near the large garnet so that the eye is drawn to it.

"From the ether, I call a spirit servant of air and silence." I say with practiced intonation. There is a shrieking that could shatter eardrums. Destroy glass. It grows louder as a human shape ripples into existence in front of me. It seems to be made of light, though it fades in and out of reality. There is nothing but deathly quiet, not even the sound of a heartbeat, as it flies towards the human girl.

Posted: **11 Jul 2016, 15:57**

He continued through the forest clad in nothing but that skull which acted as a mask. Canine features jutting out in front of him. Around one leg, resting on the outer thigh was a sheath which held his ritual blade, newly cleaned and tucked into place. To one side was a pouch containing a few scant ingredients left over from the ceremony. Crushed bone. Dried flower petals. Congealed blood. Finally, there was a bone strapped to the other side of the blade. The bone was the radius taken out of a human arm, and then etched with words in a language which most humans did not know existed. The etchings had been packed with dry ink and then thick layers of varnish had been painted over the whole thing to seal and protect. He slid through the forest with ease, bare feet moving over grass and brush, as small animals fled from his gliding form.

He might have made it fully back to the city if a scent had not tugged at his nose, drawing him to a full stop and leaving him glancing in the direction of a stump. His enhanced sense of smell was gone, but he knew that aroma well. Blood. Thick and congealing. Coppery. Delicious. His mouth watered as he took a step towards the scene. It was not unusual for one vampire to stumble upon the violence of another. Not in a city like Harper Rock. Not when people didn't seem to give a **** about secrecy anymore. He halted though, when he realized there was the underlying odor of death there. Fresh death, but death all the same. So the benefits of the anima to be found in that blood was almost non-existent. Not worth his hunger. Not worth anything really. But his curiosity was piqued, so his gaze continued in the direction of what appeared to be light coming from a short distance away.

Tongue drawn over his lips, he could taste the bone covering his face. Much of it was still exposed. He set off again. By all rights, he should not have gone so willingly into the realm of danger, with none of his powers to call upon. His preternatural strength was almost non-existent. He was marginally able to overpower an average human. He was fast though, but only because he was abnormally quick, even by vampiric standards. Still, he had no clue if he could hold up against another of his kind. He knew for a fact he could not fight one of the Fae without coming out on the losing end. But his curious nature, his inquisitive desire was what defined him. It was his weakness. It was his strength. He would walk through hell to find the answer to a question that burned in him, and he feared nothing.

So he continued in the direction of that light, coming to a halt when he caught sight of the scene playing out in front of him. There was a woman with auburn hair and bloody clothing. The one who had murdered the bodies in the forest. He could tell who she was. What she was. He heard her calling for one of the Sidhe, and a hand dropped towards his thigh as if intent on defending himself. Though that made little sense. She had no beef with him. No need to attack him. There was a human there. A girl. The last of a group of friends perhaps? It was not his business. He knew it was foolish to get involved. He had nothing to gain from it. But what if it had been him in that position? Defenseless. Weak. He moved without even thinking really. His blade was drawn and thrown full force as he leapt towards the girl.

The knife flew through the air and the demi-fae passed through it before glancing back to its mistress. Octavia. The vampire. The hilt of the blade was sticking out of her chest. She was silent. There had been no thunk. That was when Az realized the Sidhe had soaked up all of the sound. He tried to call out for the girl. Nothing. No rustle of his feet on the ground. No voice. No screaming. Octavia's eyes widened when the pain finally registered and her hand dropped to grip the blade. Az caught up to the girl at that point and yanked her firmly away from the approaching demi-fae. The creature whirled past them and then dissipated as the connection to Octavia dissipated.

Suddenly sound returned. "We've got to run!" He said as he jerked the girl against his chest. He scooped her right up. And then he was doing just as he said. Running away from the image of the screaming Octavia, whose hands had drawn the knife out and dropped it to the ground. She was bleeding, getting ready to cast another spell.

Posted: **09 Sep 2016, 23:59**

The distance concerning her and the light had been significantly misjudged. It was by no stretch of the meaning, close to nearby and it appeared to only get farther away. Not yet close enough to share words with the woman, she was nearly about to call out to her to wait with her voice raised to a cry. Nothing escaped. Just the harsh croak of words with her lips parted and a pained expression as she tripped over a branch and hit the earth hard with a thud. The rabbit was gone, had wriggled out of her grip and was running now faster and faster, far away from the scene and out of sight. She could hear a sound in her mind; a low rolling, thunderous laugh. She had to wonder now if she was losing her mind. She had experienced such moments before. She blamed it on her imagination, or occasionally something she had eaten the night before that wasn't agreeable with her. But this was different. A white hot feeling of fear cut through her in response to the unfurling laughter.

Lilith's rise was not a graceful one, she wavered to her feet, hugged the linen to her chest. There was need to catch her breath for a moment. The air filled her lungs sharply giving life to her body. Briefly she turned to look back for the rabbit that was long gone. She had clung to the creature out of fear, fear of being alone in the woods without any support, doing it more harm than good. She was alone, just her...and whoever it was out there. Eyes watered, forming pools at the sides until they eventually spilled over in rivulets, warming her cold cheeks. Her chest heaved, muscles roasting and heart battering in its place. Come on, She encouraged herself, keep going! Her feet struck heavily upon leaf and branch while her legs had experienced enough and her dash slowed to an exhausted run. Her body tried to carry her faster still across what remained of the distance, eventually slowing to a staggered walk, she was having a very very bad night.

Her back grew cold as the spirits attracted to her still lost in the forest left a hand on her shoulder to try and jerk her backward but they couldn't stop the young mortal from walking closer towards danger. She faintly recognized August's voice, amid the laughter whispering faintly to her but she couldn't understand the words when spoken like gibberish. What is so funny? Why are you laughing?! She wasn't certain if she had spoken these words or thought them, she didn't recognize this voice and it didn't belong to August as it bounced around her mind. Energy moved around her. With billowing tendrils the cold drew a long nail down her spine; a wisp of frost licked at her neck. Lilith watched the cold turn her breath into a mist before her. In a moment of pristine clarity or hallucination, she could hear the voices of Mab and Jenna, whispering to her. It was a single word. A three lettered word.

She had made a fatal mistake, Lilith knew this now as she stopped and stared and listened to the woman speak at the once safe distance. Finger tips trembled over the bundled treasure. Her skin afflicted by goose bumps with risen hairs speckling her skin. Silence engulfed her world when the being arrived from nothing. She could finally feel the way her knees burned with pain from the scrapes and she could feel now how tired she was. Exhaustion had caught up to her and she was convinced now that this was it: She was going to die. Intuitively she knew that whatever had just been summoned she was not a match for, that this woman meant harm, not well. The wheels were starting to turn in her head and she could see how every action resulted in the current moment.

She missed the dagger as it shot through the air in front her while her eyes were lingering over the enchantingly beautiful woman behind the energetic being, at least, beautiful from what she could see of her in the light. She didn't get to look for long, she hit the surface of something soft but hard and her feet were removed from the earth. Someone had spoken to her, picked her up.

"We have to what..?" Lilith said in a hushed voice, her mind rushing back to reality and the voices, the laughter, it all faded… yet, she could still tell that her 'imaginary friend' remained. She understood the one word Mab and Jenna had said: run, and it brought with it many questions. "Wait no! What was that?! Who is that?" Her head snapped back and she stared at the red woman. Her lips parted again to speak another question as she struggled and kicked her legs, wanting down. She could run on her own, at least she wanted to try. She could see the woman closing in on them; a frown anchored the soft features of her face and her brows downward. It took her more time than it should have to understand. She killed them.

It was crystal clear, anger found flint and stone and made a fire inside of her along with a sudden need for justice. But first, she and this man who had risked his life needed to find safety first and she had no idea where that was in this sprawling forest and there was the matter of the bloody angel hot on their heels…or demon.

Posted: **25 Oct 2016, 18:29**

Eyes like a chasm growing in the middle of a peerless blue ocean swung from the girl up towards the sky, to the full moon. He wouldn't be back at full power for another day. His options were, at best, limited. He didn't have time to regret the choice to help the mortal though. The battle lines had been drawn and he could not back out now. "We're running." He repeated, but the answer was less to sate the girl's curiosity and more because he needed to say something out loud, some sort of plan. Azraeth rarely did anything spontaneously. At least not really. He surrounded himself with chaos, not because his own mind was that way, but because he worked best when he had activities to keep his mind engaged. A well ordered room was nice for function, but it didn't challenge a person. So while it might have seemed, in many cases, that Azraeth deliberately involved himself with bedlam, the truth was that he carefully thought out most of his choices. The exception? Jumping into a fight with someone who could use magic when he couldn't.

He was thinking on his feet. And those same feet were moving under him as he raced towards the line of trees which framed the little clearing in which the trio had been standing.

Octavia was coated in sticky, congealing coldness. Wind whipped through, raking tree limbs in the same direction as the flow of her auburn locks. Rage twisted her features into an animal snarl, but right as she was about to form some other bit of arcane danger, a different idea struck her. She could burn through her anima reserves attempting to attack a retreating foe, but chances were she would miss every time. Instead, she called out in a clear voice. Of course, with Az and Lilith trying to make their escape, they likely only heard snippets of it. "Marlo. You saw the whole thing? I need you to find them." And then in a lower voice. "Watch them for hours to confirm resting location and then report back to me." There was a shift in the air as the invisible specter disappeared to do its bidding. One hand lifted so she could press her palm against chest wound. She would play a longer game, and be victorious. She was there one moment, and gone the next.

The pain of attack never hit Azraeth, which worried him. He expected it. Expected to feel his blood turn poison in his veins, or for fire to lance through his flesh. Thus was war between vampires. However it never happened. Moments later, he found himself coming to a stop. They were still in the forest, but a distance away from the mad red woman. He listened. Nothing. Not even rustling. From the corner of his vision, he could see shadows twisting against trees and he let the woman who had been in his arms slide to stand on her feet. His hand then dropped so he could grip the human radius which was strapped to his thigh. Fingers tightened against the bone. "I don't trust this for a second." He admitted. "But we should get further away." His hand shot out to grip her by the shoulder, even as he held the bone up, muttering some words under his breath.

The world abruptly changed.

They were no longer in the forest, but rather in an apartment, which had been painted and decorated in painstakingly dull greyscale. There was no color anywhere and the atmosphere itself seemed to be almost oppressive in its weight. His hand pulled away from the woman's shoulder and he dropped the bone onto a stone altar to one side. His movements said he knew the place well, knew where everything was. He began to undo the leather bindings which held the band around his leg in place. "Bathroom is over there." He gestured with a nod. "Wash up. We're going to chat about what that woman wanted with you, and what you were doing in the forest." He said. He disappeared then, into another room, presumably so he could throw some clothing on to cover his nudity. As yet, he hadn't removed the mask from his face, the bones of a wolf making his features seem more angular, canine, and deadly while he retreated.

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