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Youngblood [ALARIC]
Posted: 07 Dec 2018, 05:47
by Oksana
The still of the night reminded her of when she was young, when she would crawl into the tree behind their two-story home and wait for the sun to rise. Her back would rest against the worn oak, her small legs dangling over the edge of a branch just thick enough to support her weight. From her vantage point, she could see the entire neighborhood - including the light from her parents room, where her father’s silhouette would always be poised against the window - just out of sight. He’d always tried to grant her her freedom, but he’d never been fully capable of letting go, even when she was safe in their gated yard. It was those nights she cherished, those memories that she kept close to her heart, when everything had been quiet. In those few hours that she managed to steal for herself, nothing else had existed. There had been no worry, no grief, and no hunger that gnawed at her stomach.
Now, years later, those nights were nothing more than a distant memory. There was no tree to shield her from the world, no father waiting in the window to swoop in and save her. It was just her, the chilled canadian air, and the black creature that seemed to be nothing more than skin and bones. It was that creature that had lured her off of the brightly lit path of the city streets and into the darkened alleys, her steps quiet as she followed him. His tail was badly mangled, and the scent of infection and dirt wafted from him, tainting the air with enough strength to make her gag. It had never been like that for her before - before, when she had been human. Before, when she hadn’t realized what truly lurked in the shadows. Unable to allow herself to think on that now, she drew her jacket tighter around her slender form as she ducked into another alley, her foot catching a bottle.
The sound of glass rolling across jagged concrete alerted the stray to her presence, and though she had fully expected him to run - he didn’t. Instead, she stilled as he spun, his lip curving over broken - albeit still sharp, teeth. Every instinct in her told her to take a step back, to ease herself from the alley, but her feet wouldn’t move. Tilting her head, she kept her dark eyes locked on the cornered animal, suddenly realizing just how large he truly was. Okay, Oksana, you’ve been in worse situations. You know how to handle one dog, one simple, little - angry, drooling, rabies infected dog, she chided herself, her hands coming up in front of her in a calm gesture of submission. It was meant to calm the animal - but, by the wild look in his eyes and the way his lips dripped with white foam, she knew there was no chance of it working. Still, she kept one hand up as she dropped her other, moving slowly to reach into her back pocket for the needle that held the sedative.
It was that movement that caught his attention, and faster than the newly changed human could react, he lunged. His growl broke the silence like thunder, and even as she moved to stumble back, she felt his teeth sink into her shoulder. The pain was instantaneous, her lips parting on a cry as she managed to rip the needle from her pocket. Still attached to her shoulder, the dog began to shake his head, and she felt skin and muscle rip as she worked to uncapped the syringe, jamming it into the beasts neck. Tears mixed with her blood on her cheeks, and she hissed in a breath of relief as the drug worked, the large dog loosening its hold. Before it could crash to the ground, she caught it with her good arm and dropped to her knees, easing it to the snow covered concrete.
“I am sorry, darling, I am so sorry,” the Ukrainian whispered, her accent thick as she brushed her fingers over his flea infested fur. Despite the pain radiating through her torn arm, she knew that he hadn’t meant it. Her heart ached for him as he his eyes closed, his labored breathing telling her that she had found him just in time. She knew she could help him - if she could just get him to the clinic. Her plans of leashing the creature was clearly not going to happen, nor was her option of carrying him. She was stronger than she had ever been - but she hadn’t counted on the attack. Her hunger worse now, she fell to sit back on the balls of her feet, trembling hand brushing through her dark hair as she tried to figure out her next move.
Re: Youngblood [ALARIC]
Posted: 09 Dec 2018, 07:41
by Alaric von der Marck
Walking had always been a balm to the elder.
It didn’t matter how far away the estate was from the city, he often liked to walk. He had a driver now, had hired one that was recommended by Salvator’s driver. He also had the bike that he’d bought the year before. There were plenty of ways he could get to the city and back, depending on urgency. But when there was no urgency, when there was no desire but to explore and stretch his legs and to think, he walked.
Dirt road was swapped for gravel, He wore a grey turtleneck and a grey, cashmere coat that reached to his knees, coupled with a pair of plain denim jeans and joggers. It was a strange combination, expensive style with casual chic, but he was still growing accustomed to the fashion of the modern world and wasn’t willing to completely give up his formalwear. His hands were pushed into his pockets, and he looked warm enough even if he didn’t need to be warm at all. The snows hadn’t yet come as thick and hard as they would for the winter, but rain was on the forecast. And that rain would be freezing, like ice. It could dig into the skin and lodge itself there, and could be irritating even for a vampire mostly unaffected by the weather.
The company was going well; the bad eggs had been rooted out of the system, flushed out like the viruses that they were. Greed and corruption were not tolerated at von der Marck industries, and now Alaric’s focus was on spreading the word so that all the von der Marck subsidiaries worldwide followed suit.
Still, the elder needed time to think. He needed time to be on his own; to wander the city and continue to acclimatise to it, like a timid beaten dog getting used to its new home. He’d wanted to stick to the outskirts so that if he caught the scent of a stag or a mountain lion he might hunt it down for his dinner, but subconsciously his feet had carried him further into the city, into the dens of humanity. It was the sound of the kicked bottle that had his head snapping up; it was much like a predator honing in on the snapping of a twig. Nostrils flared, and he followed the sound. He didn’t even realise that he was hunting.
He might have felt guilty when his pace quickened not because the cry of pain had stirred his protective instinct, but because it meant something else had beat him to his prey. When he quietly rounded the corner, the scene unfolded; a bleeding woman and an unconscious dog. She’d been attacked, but she had overcome her foe. Which meant she might be a challenge – but what was a mangy dog compared to an elder vampire?
He was not a shadow. He did not control the shadows. So when he stepped forward, he would be seen—no matter how quiet he was. He approached the scene with no small amount of curiosity, brilliant gaze flashing in the dim light. He looked between the woman and the dog and back again.
”You are bleeding,” he stated the not-so-obvious. At first glance in this darkness a regular human might not even know the woman was injured. But Alaric had heard the attack. And now he could smell the blood. At least it was tempered by the rancid scent of the dog.
Re: Youngblood [ALARIC]
Posted: 13 Dec 2018, 04:39
by Oksana
The longer she remained there, her gaze locked on the limp form of the ill dog, the quicker she realized that she was out of options. His breathing had already begun to grow labored, and it wasn’t due to the sedative alone. This might be one you cannot save. The thought entered her mind unbidden, and she clenched her jaw as she reached out a trembling hand to press it to the creature’s side, her dark eyes filling with tears that she quickly blinked away. It was the downside of her job, the part that she hated the most, knowing that she couldn’t save them all. As stubborn as she was, though, she refused to accept defeat, even in the most dire of times. This was one of those times, she wasn’t foolish enough to think otherwise, but she knew she could figure something out - even if it meant ignoring her own state of being to carry him.
If she removed her jacket, placed it over him, she could scoot him out of sight long enough to run back to her car. If she could remember how to get here, the roads she took that lead her to this darkened wasteland, she might be able to get back in time to load him up before he got worse. Of course, if she had her equipment, she’d do what she could for him now - but she didn’t, and without bathing him first -- no. She was getting ahead of herself. Careful not to touch her face with the hand that had been against his fur, she wiped the back of her wrist just over her brow, though even that movement was enough to cause her injured arm to ache. The first step in all of her plans was to remove her jacket - which, she started to do, when she heard it.
It was a quiet rustle, something that she might have missed as a human, and that she wasn’t even sure she heard as a -- whatever she was. It was enough to cause her to tense, her fingers curving around the edge of her jacket as she grew still. Her knife was back in the car, along with the medicine she needed to treat the creature. In her haste to follow him, she’d left everything that would potentially save both of their lives where she couldn’t get to them.
At the soft spoken words, she tried to steady the pounding of her heart as she slowly moved to look over her shoulder, the dim light of the moon illuminating her pale, smooth features. “It is just a scratch,” she responded, forcing her voice to remain even and calm, though she felt anything but, and she knew it seeped into her words. Even as she spoke the lie, she felt the warmth of her blood as it trickled over her arm beneath the jacket and began to drip from her fingertips. The wound was deep - far deeper than she expected, but she knew it would heal. Somehow, she’d been able to start healing a lot of things lately. “Thank you for your concern, though.” She shouldn’t keep talking to this stranger, no matter how handsome he might appear with the shadows dancing across his features, because he was just that. A strange man in the middle of the night, in a dark alley.
She’d already learned her lesson about strange men in this town.
However, she couldn’t - and wouldn’t - abandon this dog to his fate. Her only hope was that he would continue on his way once she made it known that she wasn’t in need of assistance.
Re: Youngblood [ALARIC]
Posted: 24 Dec 2018, 09:07
by Alaric von der Marck
When she turned to face him, Alaric had the opportunity to fully admire the woman whose shout he’d followed—it had been hook and bait, and she’d lured him so easily. Caught, he couldn’t think of the way her features seemed eternal, the thickness of her lashes, the porcelain of her skin. Just a scratch, she informed, her thank-you more a dismissal than a request for aid. There was no way Alaric was going to turn around and leave. There’d be no have a good nights or stay safes as he turned and wandered out of the alley to get on with his night.
He had questions. Why was she out here by herself, an unconscious, mangy dog at her side? Why would she stay here? The wound, the dog—it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. The dog had been the one to make her bleed. The dog was not dead. Was it her dog? In ordinary circumstances his curiosity might have had a higher priority.
Blood was now dripping from her fingers and it was there that Alaric’s sharp gaze lingered. His nostrils flared; yes, the dog stunk, but the freshness of the blood? There was something to it, something different. It smelled so irresistibly sweet, and rather than turn on his heel and leave the woman with her mutt he instead took a step forward. And then another. This close, he could hear her heart pounding in his chest and it ought to have reminded him who he was, and what he was doing. It should have reminded him that this was what he didn’t do. He did not hunt humans.
Instead, it made him hungrier. Instead, it spoke to the predator within. The worst thing she could do right now was run.
He reached out, wanting to grab hold of her hand, the one dripping with her own blood. If she didn’t move back, if she didn’t somehow swerve out of his reach, he’d bring that hand to his face; he’d breathe in the scent, eyes briefly closed. His touch would be cold, his grip hard.
”If I promise not to kill you, will you allow me to take some blood…?” he asked, tone guttural, accent deep. He caught the woman’s eye—what would he do if she said no?
Re: Youngblood [ALARIC]
Posted: 28 Dec 2018, 04:31
by Oksana
Time seemed to slow the instant her words had fallen from her tongue.
The air between them crackled with energy, a tension so thick, no knife would have been sharp enough to cut through it. With one hand outstretched to rest against the dog’s matted fur, she swept her gaze across the stranger’s face, finally taking a second to drink him in. On the surface, he appeared harmless enough, but she could see something darker within the shadows of his eyes. It was hard to tell the color in the moonlight, but the glint was unmistakable. If she had truly expected him to turn and head back into the night, this would have been the moment she would have been disappointed. As it were, a part of her knew the moment she had spoken, that it wouldn’t have been that easy to dissuade him. Nothing in this town was ever easy.
When he took that first step forward, her fingers curled into the thick fur of the beast at her side. The second step, and she began to tense, her eyes widening as she kept her gaze on him. Fear flashed for only a second in the dark of her eyes, and then she was pushing it down, locking it somewhere deep within herself. Oh, she was still terrified, but it was common sense to hide it. A predator fed on fear. A predator survived on the terror it instilled in its prey. When he began to reach for her, she straightened from her crouched stance, but she wasn’t quick enough. His touch sent a chill through her, and though she told herself to pull away, she remained frozen.
This is where you run, Oksana.
This is where you get the **** out of here.
The voice in her mind wasn’t her own - or, maybe it was the voice of reason that had laid dormant for so long, she had forgotten what it sounded like. It begged her to run, to put as much distance between her and the strange man that she could, but she remained steadfast, the fingers of her caught hand curling into a loose fist. His request should have instilled that fear in her, it should have sent her fleeing, or dropped her to her knees as she begged for her life, but instead, she simply tilted her head, her eyes narrowing on him. “You are vampire,” she said, her words a mere whisper as she swept her tongue across her lower lip. As close as he was, he would have felt the tremble that rocked her, the only sign of the fear that she continued to fight down, as well as something else, something she dare not name.
Without the proper time needed to weigh the consequences of her choice, she cast a glance down at the sedated beast at their feet and released a quiet, resigned breath. “I do not believe in your promise,” she began, dark eyes locked on his as the corner of her mouth twitched in a quick smirk before vanishing, “but I am smart enough to know when my choices are limited.” It was as close to a yes that he was going to get as she loosened that fist she’d made of her blood stained fingers.