Path of the Vampire forum

Wearing

Her leg was shaking, doing that bouncing thing under the small cocktail table as she resisted the urge to look at her phone and check the time. It wasn’t a table she’d have selected for herself - far too intimate for comfort; rather her date had already been seated and halfway through some whiskey drink or another when she’d arrived. Greg had won brownie points for dressing nicely and appearing well groomed and like he gave a ****, but quickly lost any chance for a second date, or even finishing out the first one, thanks to the obviously awful personality that was difficult to hide. He had unabashedly informed her that he was already three drinks deep after ogling her in a way to which she had grown uncomfortably accustomed as she sat down. Not that she wanted to be, and had even dressed fairly conservatively without coming off as a prude, to try and avoid it. But guys like him were a dime a dozen and it was almost impossible to weed the very few decent ones out from the fuckboys.

Lydia Martell had no idea why she continued to put herself through the barnyard ritual that was dating in a city. Small though it was, Harper Rock had all the earmarks of a larger one teaming with professional singles just waiting for life to happen. Sex and the City it was not. Tinder was pretty much the only way to meet anyone these days, because no one seemed to want to try it the old fashioned way anymore. It was sort of sad, really, but to a generation that didn’t know much different, those of them that had managed to escape the ennui and general dismay of the Millennials, anyway, it was life. Work, work, work, go out, go out, go out, date, date, date. It was growing tedious, though, for sure, and this sentiment must have crossed Lydia’s very readable face as her date blathered on about himself and her finger traced the outline of her glass, because the next she knew, the creep had his hand on her still-bouncing knee, his fingers sweeping up to tease the inside of her thigh beneath the tiny table. Shock crossed her features as her gaze snapped up to meet his faux-concerned look and her knee stilled just before she pointedly pushed her seat back, so abruptly she almost knocked into a server with a full tray of drinks.

A sigh of relief was breathed when the girl recovered well enough to avoid spilling much of anything, but that did nothing prevent the dirty looks, or to ease the slowly growing sense of disgust sliding through her middle. “Ah… ahem. Excuse me… I’m just… gonna run to the ladies’ room…”

She stood with a bright, entirely fake smile, and swept up her handbag and jacket. She didn’t bother to take her drink with her like she usually would because Lydia had no intention of staying there another minute. It wasn’t the first time someone had taken the liberty of invading her personal space or putting unwanted hands on her, of course it wasn’t, but somewhere in the back of her head while he continued on with his drivel, peppered with hints about where she would be spending the night, she decided she’d had enough, of both Greg and men like him in general. He made some non-committal reply dripping with promise, still ogling her in that creeptastic way, as she made her way to the back of the restaurant where the restrooms were located, filling her with confidence that he was cocky enough to believe she was coming back. But once she was sure he couldn’t see her, she veered left for the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time she’d utilized it as an exit to escape a crappy date and her only gripe with it was the exit let out at the side of the building and too close to the main street.

But it was neither here nor there. She swung the jacket around her shoulders and hurried through, past the chaotic din of a busy night, ignoring the stares and confusion at having a random person scurrying through in favor of just getting out. And once she did, once that door swung open onto the cool night air, Lydia breathed the biggest breath of relief, followed by a shaky laugh. The air, polluted though it was, was fresh and welcome and she took her time to enjoy it. But then…

“Thought you were gonna get away that easily, huh?” Greg’s voice drawled, soft and too edgy and far too near. She whipped around to see him standing there, in the darkness, lighting a cigarette and smirking at her. How the hell he got out there as quickly as he had, looking as casual as he did, she would never know. “Never did have a ***** run out on me before. Ain’t gonna happen now.” He was slurring; throughout the roughly forty-five minutes she had suffered through, he’d knocked back at least three more.

“Um,” was all she managed to get out before he had her pinned against the rough exterior wall, panic beginning to really set in and replace the disgust. Or maybe just enhance it. “Greg, that… that’s not necessary, I’ll… I’ll stay,” she stammered before he leered at her and leaned in for a kiss. She managed to turn her head at the last moment, watching with horrified glee as his forehead knocked against the stone. And in that moment, amidst much swearing and angry insulting, Lydia dug deep. What were those Sandra Bullock moves again? Ah, right. With an adrenaline-fueled sense of victory that suddenly gave her a good, sobering dose of tunnel vision, she stomped on his instep and drew a knee up hard into his groin. Two out of four weren’t bad, she figured, suddenly remembering the acronym, as she spun away from his reach and dodged him just as he puked up everything he’d had to drink, doubled over, swearing at her, and groaning all the while. Too bad he wasn’t on the ground, but then, she didn’t really have much time to hang around and assess the actual damage.

Instead, she hitched her purse back up to her shoulder and booked it out of there, panic still lacing every breath, every heart beat. The strawberry-blonde was proud to say she could run in heels when needed, and she didn’t waste much time doing so. When she finally made it back to the main street, a giddy laugh bubbling up, she turned to check behind her.

And immediately felt her stomach drop. Maybe two out of four wasn’t all that effective, after all, because an angry, hulking Greg was staggering toward her, still ranting. There weren’t many people walking about at that hour; it was still a work night and most were already parked for the night in their chosen establishments, or safely at home. Home… she really, dearly, wished she’d just stayed in that night, she realized, as she took a few big steps back, eyes growing wider by the moment. A few more saw her stumbling at the downgrade into the street, beginning to fumble for her mobile. A few more after that, with Greg coming at her all the while, had her moving rapidly between cars parked along the sides before a loud, blaring horn signaled that she’d gone too far. Still, it was dodge some moving vehicles or deal with a very angry, overgrown frat boy… and by the looks of things, she’d have to be dealing with him on her own.

Without hesitation, Lydia chose the semi-busy street. And that’s when everything went black.

"Thank you for that...riveting presentation." Enver drawled over his words, before he slid the yellow legal pad over the piece of paper he had been doodling on the entire hour or so presentation. He wasn't a good drawer. Actually, he wasn't even mediocre. But, he had people who listened to the meeting, paid a little extra something, while he just showed up as a presence. If it was a meeting that was important, he would give it a half-hearted attempt, but since this was a meeting over cutting fractions of pennies daily, he would leave it to the other CEO's of his company to sort it out and go with whatever they wanted. He had learned long ago to not fight over pennies that people wanted to save. "I'll expect to hear about your personal decisions by...Friday? Say...by noon?" Enver glanced around the oval table and didn't hear any objections, so he stood.

"Thanks again, Stan. I'm sure you'll be hearing from us soon." Enver could almost guarantee it. He had heard some of the things that had been said; the money that would be saved by going with this company over that one; but what of the quality of paper? Enver rather liked thicker printer paper, but also realized that in house memo's not sent through e-mail was a thing of the past. "If that's that?" Enver glanced around one last time before collecting his barely written in legal pad and his doodles. On his way out for the night, Enver dropped his legal pad on his desk and crumpled his doodle up and tossed it in the trash. He wasn't sentimental over chicken scratch and that was what his drawings were.

Enver glanced at the clock on the wall near his office door and groaned. That was why he was so anxious to go. Way past coffee time. He put his suit coat on and headed to the elevator and then out the building. He bypassed his car, content with leaving it in the parking lot for security to watch all night and day. What else were they getting paid good money for? He headed south, to the heart of the city and just before he hit the city limits, Enver took off in a run that would lead him to his favorite coffee place in town. It happened to be on the far side of the city, but thanks to celerity he got there in a matter of seconds instead of a dozen minutes or so, by the way of his car.

He pulled at his tie so that it lay straight and then headed inside to place his usual order of a caramel espresso, and added a pumpkin muffin that came with cream cheese. Grace would appreciate that, if it managed to survive the 'walk' home. The muffin was bagged, and his drink came a few minutes later. The usual 'Mr. Marshall' was written on it with a heart for each 'a' in his name, causing Enver to wave two fingers to the female barista in a friendly salute before ducking out. Hopefully there wouldn't be a restraining order in her future, but for now it was all perfectly harmless. Enver took a left outside the cafe and moved to the crosswalk. He glanced around while he waited and then frowned. His brows knitted together as his eyes fell on a blonde woman in black and white, and a guy going after her.

It wasn't his business. Enver reminded himself once, then twice. But when he heard the horn of a car warning the woman who seemed oblivious to its warnings, he reacted. The coffee and muffin fell from each of his hands as Enver ran to the woman's 'aide' all while calling out, "STOP!" The guy behind her was just as oblivious it seemed, because he wasn't stopping either. There wasn't any reason for Enver not to use vampire powers. He had 'come out' a long time ago. Maybe a year by now. He easily leapt over the body of a car, then blurred to the scene of whatever was going on. His right shoulder slammed into the guy who was chasing the woman, all while his left arm reached out and tried to shove the woman out of the way of the oncoming car.

He was clipped from the side, then spun away from the woman as Enver was forced to the concrete by sheer force of motion from the car. Enver rolled until he rolled up against the guy he had slammed out of the way. He laid there to catch his breath, assuming everyone was fine. The guy was next to him, and he had shoved the woman out of the way. Everyone was fine. Everyone should be fine? But then why did he smell blood around him?

Wearing

A strange buzzing sounded somewhere close by, insistent and obnoxious, drilling into her head even though she didn’t feel like she was within her own body. Not any longer, but her eyes were scrunched closed, something that had happened just before impact, so she couldn’t actually see where she was. A dull ache could be sensed from afar - from her head, down her spine, to the odd angle of her right leg. What she didn’t instantly recall was, where she’d been pushed away from one car, another had been right behind, going the opposite direction, and caught her as she lost her balance in those bloody heels she would have been cursing if she had the memory to pull back up into the present.

The buzzing started coming through more clearly, followed by what sounded uncomfortably like a gurgle somewhere in the back of her throat. Finally, she forced her eyes open, the street lights bright enough to make her head feel like it was pounding all the while, only to take in the shocking scene at her feet.

Shiiiiiit. An out of body experience? Really?

Her twisted, mangled body lay before her in a puddle of blood that seemed to be coming from multiple locations at once, and for a long moment she wondered if Greg had gotten to her after all. But, no, he was off a ways, across the street and half on the curb. She couldn’t tell if he was injured, but he looked incapacitated at least. Good. The cretin got what he deserved, then. But another guy was there, too, also bleeding. ****. She didn’t want anyone else to be hurt by her own stupidity. Though she knew it would do nothing, she managed to will herself over to the new guy, who had been somehow caught up in her mess and was now paying the price for it. She couldn’t help the pained wince that crossed her features as she took in what damaged could be seen, panic already welling up at the fact that someone innocent had been harmed because she just had to go out.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Wait, you can’t see me, or hear me, but oh my god, oh my god… I’m really sorry! You shouldn’t have to -”

Through her babbling that was coming in louder than the nearing sirens, louder than the growing crowd, she realized she was becoming more solid than ethereal, watching her hands go from wispy to almost opaque. That was weird… but then, she turned in time to hear a strange rattling. When she realized it was coming from her own physical body, her jaw dropped. She realized the pool of blood spreading beneath was only growing wider all the while, too.

“OH…. Wow. So um, I think I’m dying… you… um… ****, you can’t hear me… okay. Wow… I don't kn - ... I'm just gonna --” The babbling was still pouring from her lips as she turned fully from the new guy, almost compelled to watch in gruesome, macabre disbelief her own untimely end. And all the while, as chilling as the scene before her was, all she could do was hope upon hope that the stupid drivel eventually cleared and she didn’t spend eternity as a half-witted ghost.

Throughout all the commotion, Lydia could scarcely lift her gaze from the gruesome sight of her own mangled, battered body before her. It didn’t matter than an ambulance was soon to arrive, nor that a gathering crowd was murmuring and babbling about how horrible it all was; it was going to be too late, a truth she could sense somewhere deep inside her very being. Something was forcing her to stay put, though, a seeming inability to try and will herself anywhere else but the immediate vicinity. There was no light, no tunnel… nothing any of the stories said. Just the dull noise in the background, the strong urge to watch her own demise, and a deep, hollow uncertainty over what would come next. Would she be stuck there, in that one spot, for the rest of eternity? Or when her body did eventually expire, would she be allowed to go somewhere else, move on from here, or perhaps even merge with that spiritual plane all her Sunday school classes taught her about?

She didn’t know, but she also didn’t have much time to contemplate it. Before she could so much as blink (and that too was a weird thing to consider, since she had no corporeal form at present), the guy who had pushed her out of the way of the first car – a move that should have saved her but for her own clumsiness – had literally stepped straight through her. It was a chillingly strange sensation, and she wasn’t quite sure how she could feel it, or anything really, but that was a pondering for another time. He mentioned something about CPR as he tilted her chin up on a too-limp neck, and for a moment, Lydia had to simply shake her ghostly head. It wasn’t going to work, she could sense that well enough already. Her life was as good as ended and her only regrets were working too much, spending some of her last precious hours with that asshat of a bad date, and putting the guy crouched over her lifeless body in harm’s way as a result.

With a huff at the indignity of it all, she kept her gaze trained, curious, on the good-looking stranger. He was bleeding fairly profusely, crimson droplets spilling all over the place, including on her. It didn’t seem to bother him, though, despite the clearly-observed gash in his arm, which certainly gave her pause. But before she could begin to wonder about that, a strange sensation crept over her. She watched her ethereal form grow less opaque and hefted a ghostly sigh. It was time to move on, she supposed, as the life slipped from her body completely. But looking around, she still didn’t see any light. She saw nothing, actually, but the scene before her, as she disappeared more by the moment. What the hell? she wondered, when, at the next blink, everything went black again.

But only for the space of one of those breaths the man was attempting to resuscitate her with. Her fingers curled at the pavement as violet eyes slid open and she clenched her teeth before he could try again.

“OW!” The yelp was unable to be contained as something sharp cut into her lower lip. She ached all over, but nothing hit her – yet – quite like that first knife-like slice back into reality. She drew a ragged breath as she attempted to sit up, only to immediately feel the ripple of pain going up her busted leg and the dull ache in her head causing a wave of dizziness, making the whole world spin. It took more than a minute to realize that the oxygen she was dragging into her lungs in short gasps was doing nothing for her, that breathing was now no more than a habit. “Wha… what the…” her hands flew to her face as the words spilled out on an anguished, confused breath, the shock only barely registering at the sheer amount of blood on her clothes and on the pavement as she finally managed to look the man in the eye. “Dude… I was dead… like, dead-dead! What the hell is going on?!” She reached for his hands, a jolt going through her at the instant connection when they made contact. It was electric, unlike anything she’d experienced before, leading to an instant, confused sob rising in her throat. A frantic, whispered plea quickly came to follow:

“Please… help me…!”

All Lydia could do was shake her head. She was, in fact, very much not okay but she didn’t even know how to begin explaining why or how. She drew in a deep breath, still not hip to the fact that it wasn’t doing anything to calm her down. “N… no… I’m not okay,” she whispered, eyes wild as her head whipped around to stare at the gathering crowd. “I was dead,” she whisper-shouted, gripping his hand again, despite the energy there every time they connected. “Like, my heart stopped… I swear… oh ****… my he- heart… it stopped… but I don’t think it started again….” The words were tumbling out before she could stop herself as she clutched at her chest and tried to feel for sure, a mountain of babble continuing that would likely make her look absolutely nuts.

Not knowing who he was and if he would simply chalk it up to the head injury, she promptly snapped her mouth closed, only to yelp out again. “Oh my god, what the hell? Why do I keep cutting my lip?” The same whisper-shout slipped from her mouth again, more muffled this time from the pain and the… suddenly excellent taste of blood… before she at last attempted to stand by making use of his offered hand. An ambulance was pulling up and it was all she could do not to force herself over to it. One of them would surely know what was happening to her, how she could be talking, walk – well, okay, maybe not walking with the state of her leg – but still. Something was very, very wrong and she could not calm her racing thoughts enough to try and figure out what it was, even as she wobbled forward through the pain, on one good and one severely messed up leg.