do you bare your fangs at us, sir? MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 2, SCENE 2

[libraryassistants]

Who: Readers and Actors
What: The werewolves who are not sneaking into the party cause a bit of mischief... and did anybody actually agree to keep the peace tonight?
When: The night of the ball itself. [ooc timeline: Feb 6th - 19th]
Where: The city of Montica.
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers.


Waxing Gibbous Moon

In Town

Above the city, the Umbra Mansion stands tall. Its grand doors and windows have been opened, spilling light like a beacon. Music lilts in the air, drifting so far as to be faintly heard even in the neutral centre of the city.

The streets have emptied, particularly in the vampiric half of town. Most of the vampire loyalists have joined the masquerade, leaving their homes and shops unattended. Tonight is a special night - a once in a century event, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Even some werewolves and neutral citizens have been enticed to attend. Jadis the Mystic has created a lotion that will disguise the scent of a werewolf; an effect that is broken by shifting, breaking the skin, or the gradual passage of time. It is not widely distributed, but rumours travel fast. The lotion is only given to any Guildulf-aligned werewolves, but… well, there’s nothing wrong with a little trade here or there. Right?

For all of the wolves in town - with the moon so close to being full, it’s natural for them to feel a bit more excitable. Energetic. Ready to take on the world. And seeing as Montica is so empty, it’s like a playground has just been opened up. The young wolves in particular are eager to take advantage of the empty streets, the sound of not-quite-mature howls breaking through the air in their excitement. There are hardly any people around to be scared if they play too rough or run too fast, and they are taking advantage of this with great enthusiasm.

In the highly-debated 'neutral' zone, some small packs of adolescent werewolves are gathering. There's banter and roughhousing, the not-quite-adults playfully shoving each-other over the invisible line where the vampire territory begins.

Some of the bravest amongst them take the challenge to dart over and brush their fingers over silver doorhandles - their yelps spurring courage and adrenaline in the others. What starts harmlessly enough quickly escalates as they urge each-other on, teenage excitement and the thrill of the moon encouraging all sorts of bad choices. The longer they go without reprimand, the more bold they become; and somewhere along the way, bulbs of garlic start winding up in places they wouldn't normally be found. (There is at least one group who is excitedly challenging each-other to leave the garlic in more and more absurd places. If they happen to sting themselves on some silver ornamentation on the way, all the better.)

Not all homes are unoccupied, though - sooner or later someone’s going to disturb someone else’s peace, and tensions are already so high. Hopefully there are some Responsible Adults around to curtail the worst of the mischief before someone’s temper is sparked.

Comments

Nyla Vereca, Reader in Distress cw blood

[not_scrap]

Nyla's looked a lot better. It's probably hard to tell, because when you already look like a glass of milk and a piece of chalk had a baby, the line between pale and too pale might be hard to parse for some.

What isn't, though, is the blood that has cascaded from her throat, all down her white dress, staining the fake satin fabric (she doesn't have real satin money are you kidding her?), and sticking between the beads of the (also fake) pearl fringes of her dress.

The walk, also might give it away, a bit more of a stagger, just aiming at 'not back there' as a general direction, as she pauses from time to time to hold onto whatever wall is near. "Think, dummy. Some place has to be safe." Because even she can tell this is not a night to be caught more vulnerable than she already is.

[curzed]

Konrad Curze isn't keyed to defending the vulnerable. It's simply not part of his makeup. Addressing the criminal element, yes, but tending to the victims? Not at all.

Who knows how many victims 'saved' by his intercepting a murderer or a rapist failed to get home that night simply because they were left on their own, vulnerable and weak. This may become another one of those cases.

But he is a hunter. It's the smell of blood, fresh and sharp and utterly mortal, that had drawn his attention at all. With this night running wild, literally, she's not the first injured - but she is the first non-werewolf he's come across. it's possible the one who attacked her is still around, looking for their target, and it's that goal and not altruism that sets him on her trail at first.

Nyla's not unfamiliar. But usually there's the sounds of life that accompany her presence, such as ... a heartbeat.

"What have you gotten yourself up to?"

The dark of the night shouldn't be as difficult to see through, for some reason. He's not hiding, but to mortal eyes the shadows he's in would render him invisible. To a vampire's senses..

[not_scrap]

Defend the vulnerable? Nyla would be A OK with 'not take ruthless advantage of the vulnerable' right now. Let's face it, there's not a lot of glory or honor or whatever scary guys are supposed to value in vanquishing someone who on her best day could maybe give him a bruise.

She didn't hear him approach so, congrats on element of surprise. That could be because her head is up her own ass right now because she has Problems. One of them being, she thinks, blood loss. Infection could come later.

Still, she sees him in the dark a little, a shadow among the other shadows. Once you get used to a shadow being that damn big, it kinda tracks.

"So. Hey." Because she's not going to keel over in front of him, nope. "Found out what happens when you crash a party uninvited." BEHOLD. "I was doing a good job kicking his ass, but I think he cheated." And right now, she really needs to sit down. Don't mind her sliiiiiding down the wall here. She just needs to gather some energy.

[curzed]

"What did you attempt to kick the ass of?" The one benefit of Curze lurking, not a damn thing is going to approach to finish what they started, or attempt to pick off this easy target.

Actually, now that he's close enough to be sure. "Mm. No, you were caught by one of the vampires." Not a question. "How do you feel?"

[not_scrap]

"The jerk who did this to me!" Look at this dress. She's never gonna get the stains out! And she dimly had the same thought: while talking to Murderteeth was always a crapshoot before he decided she was too annoying to live, at least no one else was gonna sneak up on her.

"Yeah, one of those guys at the ball thing. I thought he was just, you know, trying to get fresh, and he was kind of cute and then..." ouch times. "I feel...like I'm dying." She tries to crack a smile, figuring he's going to get a good laugh out of that one. Because look at her. Very much not dead. Right?

[curzed]

Nyla will continue to survive his dubiously safe intentions so long as he never catches her committing a crime. For better or worse she is now an obligatory murderer.

There's no return smile, he just looks interested. That probably doesn't bode well in of itself, having Curze's curiosity piqued. "What is that like? Obviously, aside from the pain. Is it a struggle to breathe? Does your heart feel too weak, or beating too hard?"

He knows which already.

[not_scrap]

Commit crimes? Man, she can't even commit to a relationship. Unless nosiness is a crime, she's as innocent as the day is long.

Hey, just so you know, looking 'interesting' to a Night Lord? Doesn't feel awesome. Also those are some top tier serial killer questions there. "I can't feel my pulse," demonstration, with her hand on her wrist. "Which means my blood pressure's gotta be on the floor." With...well, most of her blood. "Also dizzy but kinda not? Like my brain's trying to detach from my body." In other words, super not good.

[curzed]

"An unfortunate side effect of exsanguination," the primarch murmurs. It's easy to tell where most of her blood's probably gone. "Unfortunately I doubt this story will have any medical means to help alleviate that." How reassuring.

That means .. she dies, right? "If it's any consolation, if you die here you will not stay dead. The Librarian still has use for us." Except she already is dead, and he's not going to interfere. At all.

There were very few people in any reality he'd interfere with in such matters. "Rest a while. See if it helps. The wound seems to be closing a little, perhaps a perk of the Library's influence."

It isn't though. He's waiting. How long will it take for dizziness to give way to thirst?

[not_scrap]

"I need a proper med bay with transfusion and crosstype matches." Which means, he's right. That shit is in pretty short supply in this place which is like fantasy bullshit. The closest she's seen to medical equipment was a barrel of leeches.

"Hey." Because she's sliding down the wall again. "Could you, ya know, just stay here with me? For a minute? Maybe?" Is he the best guy to die next to, probably not. But he'd at least scare off anything else. "I really...don't feel so good."

[curzed]

This story likely didn't even know there were different blood types. Any attempts at a transfusion would go hilariously wrong very quickly.

Of all the people she'd have to spend this time with, somehow it's one of the least compassionate people the library's picked up. Even the surly SecUnit would try to actually help, instead of just.. waiting, patiently, for the inevitable. "I will wait with you," he agrees quietly. "For now. Accepting death is never easy. But it is temporary."

He leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, listening to the night. "File a complaint with Richard or Phillip. .. Make it Richard. Be as graphic as you can with how this feels."

[not_scrap]

At least she knows that transfusing the Night Haunter's blood would be a terrible idea. Possibly the Worst.

Almost as bad as, yeah, he's not the greatest person to die in front of, and she doesn't exactly feel 'safe' but at the same time, he's had so many opportunities to bump her off and hadn't taken them, she kinda feels it would be beneath him to do it now. He's that sort of proverbial 'devil you know' thing. "I'll get right on that, Night Haunter."

She closes her eyes, leaning back against the wall. "You know, this is kinda not how I thought I would die. I mean, like you know it's gonna happen, right? But this just feels....stupid. No blaze of glory for me, right?" She laughs, and it sounds a bit wheezy, like she's already dead. "That shit's for heros and I guess I ain't one of those."

Also, why is she thirsty? Goddammit.

[curzed]

He can be more frivolous with it than she can. He knows, absolutely, when actual, lasting death will come for her. And it isn't in an alley in a terrible Story about vampires and werewolves.

This is a brief hiccup. But Nyla.. she must treat it as if it is final, musn't she? She doesn't know. She will, in time. "Do you want a blaze of glory?" He sounds bemused more than anything. "I can find some lamp oil, I know a home that could use incineration. We could make a statement."

He can't be serious. The Night Haunter doesn't make jokes.

"Do you still feel faint?"

[not_scrap]

Real or some Library bullshit, it still feels fucking real, aka terrible. The whole 'life flashing before your eyes' thing, except you realize that your life...kinda sucked.

Not for lack of trying, though. She tried to do something with it, at least, even here. Maybe that counted?

Who the fuck knows.

What she does know is... that's insane. "And...my last goddam realization before I die is that you don't understand metaphors." She was hoping for clarity, some Great Universal Spirit to make a revelation, meaning, divine purpose... but nope: it's that the closest thing she has to a friend here is as literal as a goddam brick. "You know what, though? Sure. Why not. Maybe I'll stop being so cold." Because it's cold af right now and it's not just the shredded dress.

"I feel...thirsty." They don't mention that in the med school books. Weird.

[curzed]

There's a faint twitch of thin lips that certainly would never be a smile. "I understand metaphors very well." He just chooses to ignore that whenever it suits him!

Like this vague ongoing itch to set certain werewolf dens on fire for daring to harm one of his brothers while they're being small and helpless. It's insulting. "The coldness doesn't fade," he adds, as if it connects to anything at all, studying her again for a long moment before offering one once more blood-crusted hand.

All of Magnus' work in keeping him clean has been eradicated. And if she takes it she'll be hauled effortlessly to her feet. "Thirsty we can perhaps do something about. Can you walk?"

[not_scrap]

Good because that would be a kinda lame last realization. "So you're just messing with me." Figures. Hey at least someone's having a good time here!

She's not a super huge fan of the way you said that, either and there's part of her that feels a bit stupid, that there's something she should have realized by now, something that honestly wasn't that big a puzzle, but she can't quite get her brain to work to put it together. She tries to shrug it off, and take the offered hand, which is HUGE in comparison to hers, like her hand almost disappears in his. She'd been near him before but never quite this close and it was...even more intimidating than advertised? And the easy way he lifted her weight like she was made out of tissue paper or something, even with her high gravity heavy bones. Yeah, do not mess with Murderteeth.

"I'll make walking happen." Because it's either that or sit in a gutter and feel sorry for herself for however it takes to die my STARS it was taking so damn long! "Hey, if I croak on the way, I just wanna say, thanks. For this."

[curzed]

He really should just tell her. It would be kinder than waiting for her to realize the bleeding's stopped, along with her heart.

He doesn't. "Hm. A little, perhaps." Not that his sense of humor was that great. But it existed. It's not a focused effort to find a nerve and get on it, he reserved that attention for people who might live longer than a few decades.

Once she's on her feet again and he's reasonably sure she wasn't going to suddenly fall over, he lets go. "You're not going to croak on the way." It's much too late for that. "Perhaps not thinking about it will help. Focus instead on what you can see, hear or smell. If those don't fade, you sadly will continue to exist. Hearing goes last, they say."

They have a werewolf den to set fire to. Perhaps a werewolf to eat on the way..

[not_scrap]

"I probably deserve it." She can admit there's probably some absurdity in this whole thing. There's definitely absurdity in holding hands with a guy who files his teeth into points and calls himself Night Haunter.

"You know what's weird, though?" She's trooping along behind, hiking up her sticky skirt with one hand, (so yay, look, matching gross blood covered hands!) hoping he doesn't leave her in the dust. "It doesn't hurt. Like it should." She takes her other hand up to feel her pulse again. Now that she's upright and moving, she should feel it, right?

[curzed]

Some leeway is provided for her likely weakness and disorientation, he's not moving anywhere near as quickly as he could, even hobbled as he is. Stride length alone made that a requirement. Curze can only guess what it would be like to endure the change from alive to ... whatever this was. Undeath? Zombietude? "I've never died. I can't guess what it should feel like."

That's not true. He knew exactly what it would feel like, but the method of death would be beheading, not being used as a sippy-cup by a vampire. "So perhaps you are recovering instead."

[not_scrap]

Yeah if he was too slow she might start thinking he cared and that would just make it weird for both of them. "I mean, I've seen enough, but like...on the outside." 0/10 she would not recommend this experience at all.

"I don't thin---Wait." Wait just a dog-petting minute here. "So. Hey. Trivia question. What happens around here if a vampire bites you?" JUST CURIOUS.

[obeir]

At some point in the evening Kade manages to slip away from his assigned post guarding the Umbra manor grounds, in order to investigate the goings-on in town. He's heard those adolescent howls and can't help worrying about what his younger brother might be getting up to, or what he might be having to deal with in the neutral zone sanctuary he runs.

This is what leads to a horse-sized wolf crossing Nyla's path. The sharp tang of blood pulls him up short and he casts a glowing-eyed stare in her direction, his body language becoming more overtly non-threatening once he realises she's hurt and barely keeping her feet. Head lowered, tail loose and not quite wagging, he takes a step closer with the intention of helping, if he can. Maybe he could carry her somewhere safer? Or at least prevent her from becoming someone's snack (again?).

[not_scrap]

Come on, dummy. Think. Sure, you're bleeding out and the medicine situation here is beyond primitive--even the worst mining station she'd worked at had more stuff than here.

And...oh great. Yeah, she probably smells like steak, or whatever wolves eat. But still it wasn't licking its chops or anything. "Hey, buddy." She reaches out one hand, realizes it's covered in blood, and swaps it for the other. "Hope your night's better than mine."

[obeir]

While there undoubtedly are wolves who prey on humans, he isn't one. Normally he tries to avoid them whenever possible; it's usually safer that way. But he isn't the sort to ignore someone so obviously in need of help.

She isn't panicking, which is good. He bumps his nose against the offered hand in greeting and leans down to put himself within petting range, trying to do what he thinks a human will perceive as friendly behaviour. As a werewolf who was actually born in wolf form, it isn't weird to him, being treated like an animal like this. Her comment makes him tilt his head inquisitively in response. What happened to her?

[not_scrap]

It's easy not to panic when, 'hey, what's the worst that could happen' is your family crest. Or something. Her parents never really talked to her that much.

"So. I learned an important lesson about crashing a party." Hint: Don't do it.

[obeir]

... Oh no. That's what he's supposed to be doing - guarding the manor and keeping out the uninvited. But he'd never do what was done to her, at least not if he has any choice in the matter. Those vampire guards are far less scrupulous. He wrinkles his nose and makes a quiet sound in response to indicate his understanding, pointedly sniffs at her neck, then tries to wedge his nose underneath one of her arms to get her to lean into him, hold onto him, something, she just shouldn't stay here bleeding out in an alley.

[not_scrap]

He'd probably have better luck. Let's be honest, if Nyla didn't have the world's worst luck, someone else would have to!

But being nice to her is...kind of weirding her out. No one's nice to her. She's the tiny little mutant everyone kicks around. Like that stupid fucking vampire guy. "Hey, I don't wanna get you all, you know, gross or something." She manages, with help, to struggle to her feet. Now she has a canine companion, just like in the old holovids, just a girl and her dog!

...uh, now what, though? "You want to get something to eat?" Or something?