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Post by Catalin Holiday on May 28, 2012 13:07:30 GMT -5
The bright cherry glowed brightly in the blanketed darkness of the night as the frail looking female walked down the street toward where she knew was the new location of the black market. Clad in an all dark ensemble, she wore a t shirt that looked much too big on her so it hung off her like a hanger that read Fuck you, you fucking fuck, some skin tight looking skinny jeans that were a bit loose around her ankles and knees, and some messy looking high top sneakers. Her platinum blonde hair stuck out from underneath and over sized onyx beanie, two claw like earrings hanging from her ears, a skull ring on one finger on her left hand and a simple silver band on the other hand, and an odd looking bracelet clung to her thin wrist; nails short and painted the deepest of shades. Her bright teal-looking eyes stood out against the thick smoke of eye shadow on her upper and lower lids and her full lips were the palest of natural nude tones with only a coat of chap stick on them. Overall, she looked like a) she needed a burger b) like a fashion victim and c) dirt poor. If it wasn't for the white leather collar around her neck that sat on her protruding collar bone with the single bullet hanging from it, she would have been able to blend in with the shadows. Hell, if she could dye her hair black she would but then when she'd shift back and forth between any feline form, her hair would just be platinum blonde again - as white as snow.
A heavy looking back pack was on both her thin shoulders and she kept her head down, thin shoulders slightly hunched in as she walked past the surprisingly crowded streets. It was still a bit early, about nine pm, but it would take her at least half an hour walking time to get to her destination. With what she was carrying, she didn't want to get on the subway or even in a taxi. Plus, her bike was currently getting fixed after a little spill she took not too long ago that left a nice lump of bruises on her left legs. If she hadn't been wearing her usual leather attire while riding, she would be stuck in the hospital trying to heal as quickly as possible. But as she walked, people either ignored her or looked at her like she was some sort of foul creature. She wouldn't have noticed, though, too busy smoking her cancer stick and typing away a long code filled with zero's and one's that, should anyone look over her shoulder and see, wouldn't understand the language she was typing in - unless they were world class hackers or computer nerds like herself.
Finally, the crowd started thinning out and she instinctively turned the corner, just managing to move away from someone before they could bump into her because, no, Catalin did not bump into people. They were in her way. Not the other way around. The person looked at her surprised but she seemed unphased, easily maintaining her balance so her footsteps were barely audible to human ears. She stopped messing with her phone abruptly and put it in her pocket, looking up at the moon as if it would magically give her to time. Walking by a Bank of America shut down from going bankrupt, she actually started watching where she was going. The crowd was virtually gone now, a surprise that wasn't uncommon. But as she felt the presence of someone else, something that was just as equally uncommon, her eyes went a little wide, ears and nose twitches and perked up, and and idly jumped to the side as someone seemed to rush past her. The twenty year old watched without much interest at the other person, forcing herself not to let a purr of curiosity sting her vocal chords. Instead, the thickly accented British voice, smooth like a cat's, came out with blunt yet sarcastic words dripping with unamusement at the stunt. She was carrying a back pack full of bullets to kill werewolves and vampires - different kinds that can hurt those at different levels of strength and resistance. She had every right to be paranoid in case someone was trying to steal her bag from her, "Watch yourself," her eyes narrowed on them. If she could hiss and scowl, she would have. Instead, she simply frowned.
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on May 28, 2012 20:42:54 GMT -5
“Wolfsbane here! Wolfsbane!” Shouted one of the various merchants selling in the maze-like set up of various shops and stands. Nathaniel Devlin’s ears pricked up at the word of the anti-werewolf plant. He shivered a bit, pulling his coat a little closer to his body. He never wanted those used against him anytime soon. Still, the roar of the Black Market was astounding. With Nathaniel’s ears, he could hear every voice as they shouted their wares while others haggled for them. In the black market, barter was as good a transaction as any while violence was banned. Anyone attempting to cause trouble here was thoroughly beaten and kicked out from the black market. Here, enemies would have to be civil, unless they never wanted to visit this treasure cove of items and information again.
Of course, Nate came here for some information. He was greatly curious to find out about a certain individual that had inadvertently caused such uproar during his little “talk” with the vamp queen, one of the bosses that had a big enough chunk of control in Arc City. Still, the information Nate had received was somewhat disheartening. It turned out, this Don person was nothing more than a human experiment gone rogue—and apparently, insane. How else would someone explain such behavior as to rile up one of the most dangerous creatures in Arc City? Not only that, but Nate wondered why the man would even consent to such an experiment. Though Nate liked being a werewolf now, he still sometimes fantasized about being a normal human…at least, as normal as his freakish lie-detecting ability would allow. The actual desire to turn into something…supernatural had always been a mystery to Nate. Did life suck that much for those people?
The young werewolf continued to walk around the market, his thought still brooding over the concept of mortality when his sixth sense caught something. Apparently, someone was following him. Was it another mage sent to spy/kill him? Or was it going to be a vampire now, perhaps even one of his bretheren. They never did like Nathaniel, especially since he killed the one who turned him and refused to be taught the ways, as he preferred being self-taught. Still, the aspect of being followed didn’t sit well with Nate. He knew that they would do nothing to him here, though it was another matter entirely should he leave. Unfortunately, the market was about to close. After about an hour or so, Nate would be a sitting wolf faced with a whole bunch of enemies. He couldn’t smell them amidst the crowded market, but he was sure that none of them would travel alone. Not only was such a thing suicide, but also it was also just plain stupid. Nate knew he had to lose them here and now at the black market if he wanted to get home any time soon.
As the young werewolf rounded a corner, he suddenly moved like a blur as he darted between the gaps of people, weaving his way towards the various exits of the black market. He still sensed his pursuers though as he darted about, though he still couldn’t see them. He took a few more turns, doubling back and forth before he exited through one of the southern most exits. The streets were quiet and deserted, startling the young werewolf as he crossed the boundary line between the black market and the rest of the city. Of course magic was in play with the Black Market. Otherwise, everyone would be able to hear the uproar that ensued inside. Nate only hesitated for a moment though before he became a blur again as he weaved through the streets. He suddenly slowed down though as he came to more populated areas, though still deserted. He felt calmer now that he could hear clearly again. Crowded places were always such a disadvantage to those with keen ears like Nate’s. Still, the werewolf kept a brisk pace, brisk enough to seem inhuman, as he walked the uneven pavements of the second district. He had been so distracted by the thought of someone behind him that he had failed to realize that someone was in front.
The girl dodged just in time before she and Nate collided. From her scent, she was not amused at Nate by the way she had spoken, her tone oozing with sarcasm. She also smelled…funny. Not like a human, but close. “Err…Sorr—Shit.” His thoughts about the woman though were interrupted as a light breeze blew the way he came, the scent of his pursuers smacking him on the face. No, not vampires— they smelled like mages. Shit, Nate thought. His close proximity with this girl would prove disastrous for her. Already, the young werewolf could smell himself on her. If his pursuers were on a “kill on sight” order, this girl might become collateral damage.
“I’m really, really sorry,” Nate said as he grabbed the girl, her beanie falling off her head as, in a blur of movement, he carried her with one arm on her back while the other underneath her legs. He suddenly jumped then, as if the added weight meant nothing, as he sped even faster than before.
In the pale moonlight, Nate eyes glowed—they were golden.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on May 28, 2012 21:15:13 GMT -5
He was apologizing. Good. She was about to walk around him, keep heading in the direction of the black market in hopes of getting there before it closed. She only ever sold things to specific people in specific spots because they already paid her up front. All she had to do was deliver. Plus, that was the money for the rent. She had money stashed in various Swedish bank accounts (most actually stolen from very powerful people) but she didn't like touching them - preferring to gain her wealth that way and spending as little as possible: just the necessities. But just as she was about to dart around him and continue, the scent of a mage, possibly more? hit her nose and her eyes darted in that direction...not until this dog...wolf...thing was picking her up, her muscles immediately tensing up, and a string of curses falling from between her full lips when her beanie fell. That was her favorite fucking beanie. This prick!!!
She couldn't help but let out a loud hiss at him, teeth growing sharp in her mouth and her bright blue orbs looking like they were glowing inside her head. Her pupils became more elongated and the mental image of a panther came into her head...a panther biting into this guys face. She saw it then, the way his eyes looked golden, and her anger was thrown into overdrive. Sure he smelled like a dog but...seriously? Plus, she let him carry her far enough. Without thinking twice, her nails, long like claws of the panther in her had, reached up and dug into his cheek as if, literally, smacking him - just with claws out. Then she was struggling and pushing herself away from him, jumping off and landing in a crouched position in all fours. She smung her backpack around and with ease pulled out her two, highly trusted, Berretts, thankful she had them loaded with extra purified silver bullets, of course with her signature engraved on the side. Without even hesitating or blinking, she pulled the trigger on both, hissing as if scolding herself for having one miss him and only graze an arm (her anger was slightly clouding her judgment) but the other managed to hit him...somewhere...she couldn't tell where. She hadn't been aiming for anywhere vital - just wanting to slow him down so she could get away because this was ridiculous. Seriously? Stranger picks up stranger all while running from mages?
She slipped the guns into her backpack, sliding the large thing off to the side so it hit a building and she stood up straight, hissing as large fangs grew from her upper jaw. She slipped off her shirt, not caring that she didn't have a bra on - she didn't like bras - and was slipping off her sneakers, small black socks, and pants, tossing it all to the side as she saw that it was actually only one mage approaching. She shimmied out of her pants and her black briefs and soon enough, her body quickly shifted into the form of an all white panther, fangs and claws out and ready to rip into whatever came after her. She didn't hesitate to let out a snarled sound as she jumped over the werewolf and landed on the surprised mage, jaw latching onto his shoulder since he moved and holding on tightly. He hit her with something, though...a spell...she wasn't even sure...
Whatever it was, she let out a cry and let him go but not after tossing him across the street first. The pain shot through her back but she ignored it, in a crouched position as if ready to spring into action again though obviously not as quickly as before. Whatever he'd done, she could feel her perfect snow white coat staining red. These guys were assholes. SERIOUSLY? Did they have to drag her into this? She let out another angry hiss between the two opponents - considering both of them as her enemies. Her ears remained flattened against her head as she bore her fangs at them. This was their fight not hers...but if they wanted to drag the cat into it - they damn well did.
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on May 28, 2012 22:59:14 GMT -5
They moved like a blur as Nate sped even faster, jumping from one building to the next like they were nothing. He needed to think of a way to divert the enemy’s attention from the girl. Unfortunately, the pursuers had some sort of lock on him. Any direction he took the pursuers followed suit. Dammit! Nate thought. He didn’t want this to come to a fight. He was clearly at a disadvantage seeing as he had to protect this girl. Ah shit, Nate thought. Clearly, being an honest man was proving to be more difficult in this god forsaken city. He really needed a vacation or something.
“I’m really sorry about thi—Hey now, none of that,” Nate said towards the girl as he ran. Her hiss at him was somewhat amusing though he didn’t show it. As expected, the girl didn’t smell amused; actually, she smelled really, really, pissed. Ah, now the young werewolf remembered her smell. She smelled like a demon. Half demon? Nate thought as he passed in between two buildings with clotheslines crisscrossing in between them. He leapt on one wall before propelling himself to the next as he climb higher. He needed higher ground if he wanted a view of his pursuers. “I’m trying to save your life here and—WHAT THE HELL!” Nate yelped as the girl’s hand clawed at his face. For a small girl, her nails dug onto his skin, scratching the man. Maybe it was the demon side of her that made her smack so powerful, Nate though idly as he tumbled down towards the roof’s pavement. His gracious leaps, as he dodged all the lines, was interrupted by the sudden attack, causing the young man not only to drop the blonde girl, but also trip on one of the lines, sending him propelling onto one of the lower roofs, causing him to kiss the cold pavement. The woman landed cleanly on all fours near the werewolf, her scent still pissed as Nate got up in a blur of movement. “Really now, there was no need for that,” Nate said as he calmly approached the woman, his hand on his gashed cheek. Her claw marks were already disappearing as he tumbled down and, by the time he had spoken, there was nothing left but some reddening on his cheek.
“I’m trying to help you here and—what are you doing? Hey, what’s tha—“ BANG! BANG! BANG! The crazy bitch was now shooting at Nate! The young man was so caught in surprise, and the range so close, that he had only dodged one bullet. The other grazed his right arm; the silver bullet burning his skin while another had hit home—his left upper shoulder. That bullet hurt like motherfucker. He let out a guttural growl as his eyes glowed even more golden with rage. Before he could change though, the young man forced himself back to his senses. It didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed though. “WHAT THE FUCK!” Nate shouted as he picked out the silver bullet from his shoulder, letting out another growl as he dug it out and examined the bullet, it had a C engraved on it, before he threw it away. Shit fuck, this girl had a few screws loose. Nate thought as he reexamined the wound. Had he not explained he was trying to save her life? Really, was this what the people of Arc City were reduced to? Shooting at people for saving their lives? For a moment Nate missed the vampire queen—at least she showed gratitude and respect well enough. Damn, Nate thought. The wound wasn’t going to heal anytime soon, not with the traces of silver embedded on it. Nate was lucky he developed a sort of small tolerance with silver, having exposed himself to the stuff a little every day, otherwise it could’ve been much worse. Still, the thing hurt like hell. First wolfsbane, then some assassin mages, and now silver. Was this day ever going to get better?
“What the fuck is wrong with—uh…what’re you doing?” Nate had to avert his eyes. The girl was stripping! First she shoots at Nate, and now she was stripping in front of him! What in the world was happening with today? Had something snapped in the world, making it go full on retarded? Nate thoughts were jumbled by the various things running in his mind until the wind picked up a scent again, sending another growl from the young werewolf’s throat as he snapped his head on the direction he had just come—they were here. Even at a distance, Nate could clearly see the mage below…alone. He doubted that. He could somewhat sense them. There were more of them, spread out and planning to pin him and the girl on the roof. They really needed to get out of here.
“We should really—WOULD YOU LET ME AT LEAST GET A PROPER SENTENCE OUT?” The girl had turned into a big white cat—some sort of panther maybe—and gracefully leapt over Nate and into the incoming mage mid-air. She growled as she bit the mage’s shoulder, his bones breaking at the force of her jaw. The mage yelled in pain before a sudden burst of light smacked into the white cat. The big cat was clearly hurt as she let out a cry, disengaging her mouth from his shoulder as she did, though not before she threw him down onto the street below before she landed on all floors. Nate followed suit and jumped down to the streets as well just in time to hear the cat growl at him; her head swinging from Nate to the now unconscious mage. The big cat was bleeding though Nate could only smell one prominent emotion from her—anger.
“I know you’re pissed, really I do, but you have to follow me on this one! He’s not the only one coming after us and, if you really want to live, we’d better leave—Oh for the love of—!” Nate felt exasperated as more mages landed on various rooftops. They seemed to specialize in some sort of enhancement magic, though they didn’t have trouble creating Detonation spells, from what the young werewolf could see from the girl’s wound. Dammit, weren’t these people ever going to let him finish a proper sentence? One without any profanities attached? Really, the werewolf was starting to get really fucking pissed. If they wanted a fight, fine, Nate was going to give them one.
“Hide.” Nate spoke towards the wounded cat, his voice commanding as his eyes glowed gold. He suddenly let out a roar as he leaped with such speed onto the nearest mage, his claws connecting with the mage’s head, sending it tumbling away from its body, before he landed vertically on the building’s wall. His hind legs had turned into a wolf’s as he propelled himself forward, even faster than before as he tore off another mage’s arm. By now, bursts of light were flying towards Nathaniel though he dodged them easily. With another blur of movement Nate ripped a pair of legs. He leapt and dashed like a blur, only the chocolate brown color of his fur visible as he killed one mage after another. There was nothing left but the hunt for Nate now though in the back of his mind, he prayed the woman would heed his words—she would get in the way if she didn’t.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on May 28, 2012 23:29:05 GMT -5
"You've got to be shittin' me,"
[/color] the twenty year old thought to herself. The wound in her back felt like it was throbbing but in general, she was fine. She didn't have some kind of rapid healing ability or at least she hadn't had it since she magically woke up with this stupid collar around her neck. As he seemed to jump away from her, she felt her anger being more directed toward the mages that seemed to be coming out of the blue. How did she not pick up their scents? They were usually a lot easier to manage than a werewolf but this was starting to get ridiculous. She twitched her ears a bit as she watched, hesitating and debating as to whether she should follow after him and help him or just let him die... Letting him die sounded better. Though by the looks of it, he was going to kill them all before they could so much as scratch him. He brought her into this - he can clean up his own mess. But before she could go over and grab her things left behind in a pile, she suddenly tumbled over and skid across the street to hit the far wall of a building. What the fuck. Honestly, she felt like she got hit by a truck. She hesitated a bit, forcing herself to concentrate on her panther form so she wouldn't revert back. Then, as some mage looked ready to send another world of pain shooting through her, she pounced on him, much like the last one, only this time letting her jaw lock onto his neck and gladly beheading him. It was then she started feeling her initial adrenaline rush wear off, slowly but surely, and she turned her back to the body she'd essentially destroyed, kicking with her back paw so it stayed as far away from her as possible. She headed over to her back pack and clothes and, despite still hearing possible fighting and the ripping of limbs, she shifted back into her human form so she was standing, but crouched over, hands grabbing the wall in front of her for support. She hadn't fought mages in a long while. She was used to dealing with oblivious humans, vampires, and werewolves. Mages...they were another story. Magic always freaked her out - ever since her blasted collar. Slowly, she reached down and grabbed her briefs and pants, slipping them on slowly. The bruises from her bike spill still on her leg and new ones blossoming over them. It didn't help that she was pretty damn pale. No, that didn't help at all. She grabbed her shirt and, being cautious of what felt like a gash ripping into her spine, put on her much-too-big shirt before putting on her socks and sneakers. It was when she was done that she stopped hearing the sound of flesh tearing into flesh, growling, etc, "Fucking people in this fucking city," she mumbled to herself, British accent thick and obvious on her tongue, "Fucking grabbing and touching..." and the string of curses continued as she hesitated,a shot of pain hitting her again up her back and blossoming on her left rib cage. If she had scars and any of her tattoos got harmed, she was going to kill that dog or she would take every penny he was worth, ruin his name...whatever she could do to hurt him. Finally, her fingers grabbed the strap of her back pack but she didn't swing it over her thin shoulder. "Shame," she looked over at Nathaniel when she finally saw him, "I thought they would have put up a fight...or killed you," her voice was blunt bordering on just plain rude as she looked at him with a sort of death glare. Her frustration and anger at not being able to sell her guns and bullets and for being slightly tossed around like a rag doll holding steady so she wouldn't show how much pain she was in. She made sure to stand a bit straighter, not really wanting anything to do with this guy. She had to relax though because she could feel her collar warming up which meant those stupid symbols were probably burning a nice, faint red. Last thing she wanted was to end up falling asleep here in the middle of the street...defenseless. Reaching into her bag, she grabbed a carton of cheap cigarettes and a lighter, bringing one up to her lips, lighting it up, and taking a drag before putting everything back. This would calm her down quickly: nicotine, tobacco, cancer. It always helped ease her mind. Maybe it was the habit considering nicotine was a stimulant but either way...it worked. Plus, just because she could stand up straight didn't mean she'd be able to really walk. Dear fucking Lord...she wasn't going to ask him for help to get back to her apartment. From how far he'd taken the two of them...it had to be on the other side of the city. She let her blueish teal orbs look at the street signs, trying to figure out a map in her head to see how to get home and somehow fix the mess that was her back without having to go to the hospital...or letting her father know about it. [/font][/size][/justify][/blockquote][/div][/center] |
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on May 29, 2012 0:29:03 GMT -5
The blur of brown fur dropped mages one after another, their spells easily dodged. Judging by the strength and skill of these mages, it looked like Nate was being underestimated again. It was a good thing though. The pain on his left shoulder was starting to throb, making the werewolf unable to reach his top speed. Damn blonde shooting him for no apparent reason. The thought of the girl fueled the young werewolf’s rage, furthering his speed as he cut through mages one after another. He didn’t really like killing, the young man thought as his claws shattered a mages barrier while crushing her face. That was why he wanted to run, he told himself as he chased those that tried to flee—no lose ends. Stupid girl. If it hadn’t been for her, he would’ve been able to lose these people. Instead, here he was slaughtering the lot of them. At least the girl had sense enough to stay out of the way—it made things much more easier for the werewolf.
By the time he was done, the girl had already put on some clothes, decent enough that Nate didn’t have to be embarrassed for her since she apparently wasn’t embarrassed herself. She was muttering to herself as he approached. Clearly, she wasn’t over the whole being whisk away out of the blue thing. Hadn’t she gotten her revenge on that already? Nate thought as he felt his left shoulder throb in pain. As he got close, the girl looked over at him then spoke, her tone flat, bordering on rude.
“You’re welcome,” Nate growled, his voice lower than when he was in human form, “I’m glad you can change, seeing as you had the luxury of discarding your clothes before your shift.” Nate said, his tone oozing with sarcasm as he emphasized the word you. Even with his words coming at a growl, Nate knew she could understand him. Demons had the ability to understand all sorts of languages; he wouldn’t be surprised if this half demon, blonde bitch did too.
“As for myself, I really can’t revert now can I?” His tone getting angrier the longer he spoke to the blonde, “Unlike someone here, I had to act quickly since someone just had to stop and smell the fucking roses. Did you really expect there to be only one? Are you that stupid or are you just plain retarded?” It was a rhetorical question. Clearly, Nate’s emotions weren’t on check anymore. Seeing the blonde bitch in human form, clothed, while Nate had to stay in his wolf form, butt naked, really sent him teetering over the edge.
“By the way,” Nate added as he turned his back at the girl looking for perhaps an unharmed scrap of his clothing, “Thanks for shooting me back there. That really helped a lot. Idiot.”
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Post by Catalin Holiday on May 29, 2012 6:17:59 GMT -5
"I'm sureyou would love it if you were minding your own business and someone attempted to kidnap you, asshole," she hissed at him again but then opened her back pack and dug around in it, averting his gaze as she attempted to calm herself. Anger wasn't going to do her any good. She felt like the incredible hulk. If she stayed any angrier, that stupid collar would render her useless and sleeping like a baby. Metal clinked inside her bag before she manged to find a shirt. He was lucky she wore her shirts at a large, despite her petite frame, or he would be screwed. She continued rummaging around as she felt the heat from the collar start to die off as well as her anger. She was ignoring his words because God knew she needed to. She found some loose bondage pants of hers (she wasn't stupid. When she could, she carried extra clothes with her unlike this idiot) and rolled both articles of clothing up and tossed them at him. She didn't like talking to a dog. Sure she understood him perfectly, but it just made her feel uncivilized which probably stemmed from her wealthy upbringing.
"Now shut the fuck up and get dressed. You deserved to get shot anyway," she'd been carrying very expensive things with her...and of course her first thought had been that he was trying to steal them from her. She'd had countless times where people tried to mug her and she always put them in their place. She wasn't just some little kid who could be bullied around on the playground. Seriously, "and I'll unload a whole round on your dick if you try touching me again," it was a promise. Not a threat. Especially when she obviously had more where that came from. The back pack was like the bag of Mary Poppins. She can suddenly pull out anything and just own your soul. She knew how to fight - she just wasn't taught how to fight mages.
Catalin turned her back to him so he could get dressed - and he could keep the clothes. She didn't want it back smelling like a werewolf. The scent wouldn't ever come off no matter how much she scrubbed. But once her back was turned to him, she locked her jaw tightly and closed her eyes with the same amount of force, pale eyebrows coming together to match the scowl that formed on her full lips. Holy crap what did that mage use on her? She hadn't been hurt this badly in years...then again she never really had to deal with mages - not since she was five years old. Maybe that had been why she'd gotten so angry...and at this realization, her initial fear started bubbling up within her. Yeah, she'd only gotten angry because she'd been a scared, silly, stupid little girl and when feeling weak - her first thought was to get violent and get everyone away from her. Mostly it was so she could deal with it. At the moment, it was just because she wanted to runaway with her tail between her skinny legs.
The only one who ever saved her from mages so she didn't have to fight them had been her fallen angel nanny and she didn't show up this time - another hit below the belt in Cat's mind. She took another drag from the cigarette to relax herself, feeling her shirt getting damp on her back. The five foot two female leaned against the nearest wall to steady herself and with each drag from the cigarette, she seemed to slowly unwind and relax. Her feline orbs finally opened and she looked down the street at nothing in particular. If he would just leave she could figure out a way home without looking like a cat licking her wounds. She didn't want him seeing her a mess - more so than she already was.
Catalin scrunched up her nose before she let out a sigh, "Thank you, though," she said it extra quietly so as to not hurt her own pride and ego, "If they managed to get what was in this bag, though, shit would have gotten ugly fast," too fast. Sure the mages weren't that strong but with her weapons and their numbers, they could have taken him down with ease. Maybe with that comment he'd be able to put two and two together and realize she wasn't just carrying two little guns and some clothes in there. Mary Poppins indeed. Her hand clutching the handle of the bag tightened so her knuckles turned paper white, taking another drag from her cigarette and seriously wishing she could just disappear or at least make that stabbing pain between her shoulder blades disappear long enough for her to think straight and not revert back to some oddly nice version of herself.
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Post by Frezzik Don Kiplen on May 29, 2012 18:44:55 GMT -5
As he finished his purchase he could not help but notice the screams of a woman causing. To him that sounded as though she was in trouble and thus grabbing his purchase, a M134 Minigun with a Chainsaw grip to handle recoil, and the ammo for it, he would make his way towards the out skirts of the black market and the string of profanity. What he found however was a Beanie of some sorts. His next clue as to were to go would be the retort of three gunshots, two different pistils if he had to take a gander. Moving he would pick up the beanie as he caused himself, the beanie, and his newly acquired gun to disappear after all only a complete dumb ass ran around a city carrying the fire power he had in plane site.
He was use to the weight of the heavy gun, though he preferred to use pistils or better yet a knife, due to him always being the pack mule for the heavy weapon for the fifteen years in the service. It was definitely a fire from the hip kind of weapon, but with it kicking out two thousand plus rounds per minute you kind of forgave the lack of an accuracy giving position. The only reason he would get such a gun was because of his run in with Vamperilla. His muscles were still healing and each move caused him pleasure but that was a masochist for you. Pain was pleasure. Moving as quickly and gingerly as his body could handle he would move into one of the higher buildings to get a view of what was happening. It was his luck that the building he picked over looked the one that he wanted. Screams and the sounds of combat enthralled him but by the time he would arrive to the scene at the edge of the roof top he was on the fight it seemed would be over. Disappointing really he did want to test out his new weapon.
Shouldering the Gatling gun he would pull the beanie out of his pocket as he let himself become visible. He would be clad in black sneakers, denim pants, a T-shirt, and long overcoat. Over all it gave him a slight Matrix-y like look. For once his hair would not be slicked back but let loose. Judging by the white strands in the beanie he could only guess that the girl was its owner.
"Hey hate to bother you two but I was in the neighbor hood, heard some colorful words, and gun fire, but along the way I found a beanie. It doesn't belong to either of you does it?"
In his condition he was in no shape to jump from one building to the next so he did the next best thing. Stuffing the beanie in his pocket for a moment he would undo his belt and wrap it before pulling out his keys and snapping a D ring to the cable and belt he would glide down the steel cable that connected both buildings. His left hand holding onto his M134 Minigun as his right let him slide down. Looking around at the bodies he could not help but comment,"What a mess." as he walked over to the girl taking out the beanie once again. Handing it over he would look at the werewolf and after handing over the beanie he would shrug out of his long coat,"Looks like you need this more then me."
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on May 30, 2012 11:42:49 GMT -5
Nate looked around the bloody mess of road, searching for some item of clothing that belonged to him. The wind was upwind from the young werewolf, blocking his scent of the blonde, though he sensed she was still there. She wasn’t a priority though. He needed to first find clothes…unless he would risk looking like a monster going home. So far, it looked like none of them survived. Nate sighed. He had just gotten that coat a while ago at some thrift store. It was a good find really—it seemed rarely worn. Now though, he held it with his right claw, the coat clearly torn in two. Even if he somehow tried to save it, it wouldn’t look the same. Nate sighed again, tossing the scrap of clothing to the side. He tried to have another go at looking for clothes when the blonde bitch began to speak, her tone venomous.
“I—“ Nate began to retort, though the girl spoke over him, tossing him some clothing. He caught them instinctively. He felt…shocked? Yes, shocked was the right word. She had showed some kind of good human behavior. Maybe this girl wasn’t so bad after—Spoke too soon, Nate thought as the blonde bitch spoke again. It wasn’t a threat that was for sure. From the way his ability didn’t alert him, he was certain she meant every word of it. He growled at her, but didn’t give a retort back. She’d get one of those—as thanks for the…clothes. Nate grimaced; at least, he tried to in his wolf form. The shirt was fine, but the pants were another story. Not only was it an ugly sort of thing, but also he wasn’t even sure he could fit in it. He hoped he would, otherwise the shirt would still have been useless. He glanced at the woman first and, seeing as she had her back turned—so she did have some form of decency—Nate reverted back to his human self. Going from his furred up body to his bare human one felt like plunging in cold water. The cold night air whipped at the young man’s bare body, sending a shiver down his spine. He quickly put on the shirt and found it had fit him somewhat perfectly, while the pants were…snug. Really snug. He felt like his parts were on display for all to see—well, at least they had fit. Nate didn’t have the luxury to choose anyway. These would have to do before he got home.
The blonde spoke again, her tone softer as the young werewolf tried to carefully zip up the pants. “Uhm…” Nate began to say, lost for words. Did she just give her thanks? Was that even possible for her? Granted, Nate had only met the girl for a few minutes, but still, her showing gratitude was shocking, “…you’re welcome.” Nate finished lamely. Her honest gratitude had disarmed him to find words. Still, her statement had sparked curiosity in the young man. What was in the bag that was important enough that she would risk her life for? There were her guns, but things like that could be repurchased. The mystery was gnawing on his mind as he finished zipping himself, having remembered about it again.
The wind changed direction, downwind, towards Nate. He breathed in, smelling the blonde’s scent as he did, causing him to freeze. With a blur, the werewolf was right next to the blonde, his hand hovering over her, her promise still on his mind. “You’re hurt,” He stated simply as the wound on her back stained her newly worn shirt, “Put out the cig; it’ll just make you feel worse.” From what he could see, the wound wasn’t normal. The mage might’ve cursed it, Nate thought before something else alerted his nose.
Someone was on one of the roofs. Whoever it was smelled like a human, though nothing like he’d smelled before. No, he had smelled this scent before. Yes, it was—He groaned. It was like one of the worst people Nate wanted to meet—Don. What the hell was this man doing here? Nate thought as the man began to speak, his tone conversational as he pulled out something from his pocket—the blonde’s beanie. Nate was a bit surprised. Hadn’t that cap of hers fallen off on the other side of the city? Don’t tell me he’d followed us all the way from there, Nate thought as the man began to rappel down from the building. The werewolf took a bit of pride in his speed. To be followed all the way from here was a bit of an insult—by him of all people too. It was like a slap on the face.
“I’m fine,” Nate growled as he rejected the man’s coat. The young werewolf’s memory of the last time they had met was still fresh on his mind. He wondered if this man would mess everything up here too, though he doubted he would. There were only three of them here and Nate didn’t think he wanted to cause trouble…though by the man’s personality he wouldn’t put it passed Don. The young werewolf had just read up on him, “She’s hurt though, so I’ll need to patch her up—would that be fine with you?” Nate spoke, the last part he addressed towards the blonde.
He hope she’d agree. His home was near here and he had some knowledge of those types of wounds, having had a lot of them himself over the years. He still wasn’t sure though what exactly the curse was—he’d have to take a better look. Now though, he just needed for her to agree to being treated. Already, the blonde was starting to get pale…well, paler than before.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on May 30, 2012 16:24:41 GMT -5
She was in the middle of taking a drag from her cigarette when her muscles tensed up at Nathaniel suddenly being in front of her, his hand hovering as if to grab her though not like before. It was a bit more of a concerned or worrisome sort of gesture and she instantly stepped back a bit, cigarette still between her lips and her stance as if ready to shift in order to protect herself, "I have to smoke," she made it sound like she was talking about something vital like water or air, her words coming out slightly muffled from having to hold the cigarette in place, "It keeps the co-" but before she could say anything, she was cut off by the appearance of someone. How did she not notice this guy? She must be dying or her senses were just acting up...When her beanie was suddenly out in the open, her hand darted out to snatch it away from the man, glaring at him like he shouldn't have been touching her things. God knew Catalin was so particular about her stuff.
Still, she put the cancer stick out on the side of the building and flicked it gingerly into the street, a serene stream of smoke filtering out through her nostrils as she dusted off the hat and then put it back on, immediately feeling better knowing she hadn't lost it forever. How she loved this thing! It was the perfect thing to curl up and sleep in in her cat form too. Just big enough for little her when she was feeling sleepy. She didn't thank the man, though, who the werewolf seemed to know or at least met before. The man smelled familiar but she'd never met him. Whatever. She didn't care. She just wanted to go home and -
The werewolf was offering to take her to his place and "patch her up." Her muscles tensed again and she backed away slightly from the two of them, the grip on the handle of her back pack strong and relentless as she slightly dragged it, knowing that putting it on her back would only make matters worse. She looked between the two of them skeptically, playing with the bullet on the end of her white collar out of habit. Thank goodness it stopped glowing red with all those marks she still was having trouble deciphering. She remembered knowing how to read it when she was younger. She was a demon - she obviously spoke every possible language fluently - but since getting the collar, those words she just couldn't figure out and she hadn't found much on it on the internet no matter where she looked.
Catalin hesitated before she spoke, "...Where do you live?" it was an expected question considering she needed to know, "So I know how to get home after," she explained, in case one of them didn't understand, "and...who are you? Both of you? I'm just supposed to go to your place and I don't even know your name?" she was being defensive but could they blame her, really? They were both men, one much large than the other, but both were a lot taller, stronger, faster than she was. Her abilities were limited because of the collar around her neck and she was still young, only twenty years old, and she only weighed about ninety pounds at five feet two inches. They could over power her and all she'd be able to do is flee.
However, despite asking their name, she made no move or sign of introducing herself. Her last name was well known throughout the city, of course. It was the last name of the first partner of the British crime firm. Though he was a powerful man, she didn't like being associated with him. She wasn't like him at all, just his daughter, just a demon less powerful than he was. She used to only see him over the summers when she had vacation until she was sixteen and suddenly found herself living with him and seeing him all the time. Despite liking how she was able to sit in on his meetings whenever she wanted as long as she was in her white cat form and not bothering anyone, she only did it to benefit herself. Surnames were dangerous no matter what part of the city you were in. So, despite seeming like a hypocrite, she didn't say her name, just waited for them to introduce themselves before she let him take her wherever it was he lived. She was starting to feel a bit sluggish though and she attempted to look down at her collar. Was it glowing? She wasn't pissed or something...She didn't get it.
Letting herself lean against the wall again, her grip on her bag loosened a bit but she forced herself to hold onto it for dear life. Hell no. She'd die and hold onto that bag with everything she had.
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Post by Frezzik Don Kiplen on May 31, 2012 19:38:12 GMT -5
"So Let me get this straight, you are going to take her to your place after..." Gesturing around,"this. Don't get me wrong but looking at it from my professional point of view, your house will most likely be the last place you would want to go, cause it would be were I would want you to go if I was after you. Why? Because it would be the place you would go after a phew I think its over." As he talked he would set the minigun down as he sat on the edge of the building and put back on the black overcoat.
Looking back over at the girl he would give a kind smile as he gave a nod," Frezzik Don Kiplen, but please call me Don."
and with that he would give a wink before putting them both in his full veiw," Former military man, and ex-hush hush shhh shhh, so apparently I don't and never have existed, but no I don't like house guests so please don't ask."
The last part of his words were directed not at the blond but the werewolf, in case he got the oh so bright idea that Kiplen might be able to take them to his place. Hell, he had a hard time keeping it secret as it was. It was hard enough to find a safe house. ,"Why not take her to see, her Majesty. That's near here isn't it?"
Referring to the vampire queen that had given him a new one and forced him into a spot to do jobs for her for free. Gwah the word left a bad taste in his mouth and he had not even said it. At least he was still breathing that was something wasn't it? Standing up he would grab the M134 by its chainsaw grip trying to hide the fact that he was not working at his best, the run to get here had pushed it out of him.
((OOC: Forgive me for the short post >.<)) |
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on Jun 1, 2012 4:07:37 GMT -5
Nate waited patiently, he didn’t even mind that the blonde backed away from him. All he wanted was the girl to agree. For some absurd reason, Nate felt guilty for the girl current predicament—even though it wasn’t really his fault. Still, the guilt wouldn’t leave so he needed to fix her up—to alleviate his guilt. Sure, he felt some sort of compassion for the blonde. Maybe it was his humanity speaking, but he would never own up to it. Those kinds of thoughts were what got you killed here. Still, the guilt would gnaw at him forever if he left her alone.
The girl spoke then her tone cautious. Nate blinked. Did he just hear her right or was the bullet wound messing with his head? Did the girl just agree to it? He had thought he’d have to persuade her some more—even possibly kidnap her for real—in order to treat her. Huh, this could possibly easy after all, Nate thought.
“Great,” Nate began, his tone brighter though his eyes still glowed a subtle golden, “I live here in the slums—just a few dozen blocks from here—it’s Nate by the way,” Nate said as he looked around, determining exactly where they were, “We’d have to run, though, so f I’d need to carry you again, if that’s alright with you…uhm…” Nate trailed off.
He didn’t know the blonde’s name yet. He began to ask when Don interrupted him. The man spoke, his tone a bit condescending as he put back on his coat and sat down. Nate wanted nothing more than to snap the man’s neck off. Again, this would prove to become a setback. For some reason, whenever this man was around, Nate always received setbacks. The man continued to talk, his tone conversational as he talked about…himself. For some reason, the man liked to talk a lot about himself, even when he wasn’t ask about it. Narcissist too? Nate thought as the man continued on—even going as far as telling the two that his home was out of the question, even if they asked. Nate was about to shut his ears to Don when he heard him talk about her.
Again, Nate contemplated on just separating the guy’s head from his body—if only to shut him up. It was just such an awful idea. Imagine, bringing a wounded werewolf and half-demon into a vamp’s territory. Not just any vamp though, but the queen vamp’s territory, and to ask her for help! It was just plain stupid. The blonde and Nate wouldn’t probably get a few steps in before they were mobbed and killed by a bunch of vamps. Also, Draculesti and Nate weren’t friends. And even if they were, he would never go to her for help. The young werewolf knew she’d probably ask for something in return for her aid. Nate didn’t like owing favors—especially to someone as dangerous as her. No, his place would suffice.
“No, my place would suit just fine,” Nate began, his tone calm yet he felt anything but as he looked at the man, “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Nate had to keep his emotions at check. Already he was at the limit with his interaction with the blonde. He didn’t need Don adding more fuel to his anger, lest the young werewolf forcibly change and accidentally kill Don. If he was ever going to kill the man, he wanted to be conscious of the decision and not black out while ripping him to shreds.
True, Nate’s home may not be the safest place to go right now, but they really didn’t have much of a choice. His stash of salves and shit were there and by looks of the blonde’s waning strength, that was the only option. Either that or go to a hospital, though Nate wasn’t sure they could treat wounds like the blonde had.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 3, 2012 21:54:56 GMT -5
The feline shifted her eyes between the two and she was actually thankful when Don cut Nate off so she wouldn't have to give him her name. No necessary information but at the proposal of seeing her majesty, Cat's eyes seemed to freeze on Don with an almost venomous look, "I'm not going to some blood sucker..." she obviously had a dislike for vampires....and werewolves...and essentially everything under the sun that was supernatural except for demons and a certain fallen angel. Other than that, everyone could go fuck themselves, "and what's a werewolf doing being friends with a blood sucker?" she obviously didn't expect an answer as she tugged her back pack closer to her. She seemed to hesitate again, looking between the two skeptically. It was becoming increasingly more obvious that she wasn't the most social of people and that trusting others was an issue much larger in her life than most. Eventually, after a few moments of deliberating in her head, she hesitantly handed the backpack over to Nathaniel, meeting his eyes, "Guard it with your life..." she was dead serious as her British tone filled the cool night air. The bag itself was fairly large and was pretty damn heavy - well, for someone Cat's size it would seem ridiculously heavy with all the crap she carried around in there.
"I don't know if you're coming," she looked over at Don, "but if you are, I can't have anyone taking that bag. That's my rent and work and I will make it my personal business," she looked at both of them at this part, "that neither of you will be able to show your faces in this city with the shit I can get on both of you within fifteen seconds," she frowned a bit, feeling light headed but choosing to ignore the symptom. Her back felt raw now, like something was burning and taking a hold of her spine. She kept ignoring it, though, and took a deep breathe once her words were able to sink in with both of them. She shouldn't be transforming...and in all actuality it was a bit difficult to concentrate and force her body into the familiar motions. Either way, she pictured her usual and favorite form and soon enough, there was a pile of her bloody clothes on the ground and then a tiny white head poking out from underneath the beanie, looking up at the two of them expectantly. She let out a little meow before she hopped up onto Nate's shoulder, letting out a tiny meow in regards to her back where the white fur was stained crimson and pink.
Looking over at Don, she looked down at the beanie and then back at him as if telling him he better damn well pick it up. The rest of her clothes...she could live without it. Despite loving that shirts and those shoes...she'd have to buy new ones. Ugh. Unless Don grabbed those too...but she mostly just wanted her damn beanie. She let out a soft purr as she seemed to curl up against Nate's head and neck. She was a bit smaller than the average cat and her blue orbs seemed to glow as she looked around the entire way to his apartment, as if on guard and trying to memorize everything she could. By the time she was at Nate's place, however, her muscles seemed to relax instead of being in their frigid state but it seemed like she was more of a limp white fluff ball on his shoulder than anything. She was tired - no - exhausted and it took energy for her to not revert back to her human form. She didn't care about suddenly being naked. That wasn't the problem. It was that she was virtually unable to defend herself in her human form without her guns in her back pack and God forbid she gets attacked out of nowhere or they try to rape her or beat her or something. Yes, she knew self defense but not when having a bloody back and feeling horrible all the way down to every single nerve ending.
She hopped off his shoulder with grace and ease, landing on her front paws first and then her back, letting out another meow as if complaining before slowly making her way behind a sofa and changing back into a balled up human Catalin, peering out from behind the sofa but not standing up fully. She was holding onto the sofa for dear life, though, because a) she didn't want her bare bum on the floor - or lack of a bum, b) if she sat down, she'd lay down and her back touching the ground wasn't a bright move, and c) she needed to hold onto the sofa so she wouldn't end up knocking out or blacking out from how tired she was. She was normally one hell of an insomniac. She slept for only a handful, maybe less, a day but it was what made her function. The only time she slept for extended periods of time was when her collar forced her to.
A shiver hit her and she trembled slightly, the burning feeling more like ice or maybe she'd just lost that much blood and was delusional in feeling like it was winter in this damn place, "Do you have a blanket?" she said it through clenched teeth as she remained hidden as if she wanted to just curl up in a ball and die or something - and such a thought had crossed her mind numerous times along the course of her life. However, it wasn't as bad as when she'd been five years old and had been raped and beaten. No, she really wanted to die right then and there - more so than now. She normally had a fairly high pain tolerance or at least she didn't like voicing whether she was in pain or not. She'd rather silently suffer than have someone fixing her up. She didn't like hospitals and as much as she didn't want Nate to fix her up, she knew she actually would die if he didn't. And though dying wasn't something that scared her, she knew she wanted to live at least a little bit longer - like to the next five minutes at least. She kept her knees pulled up to her chest as if cradling herself to try and attract some type of warmth while one hand grabbed onto the back of the sofa tightly and her blue orbs peered over the edge. The wound, however, wasn't looking very good at all. The veins surrounding the wound were more visible on the surface of her pale skin, paler than her normal complexion. Most of the blood had dried on her skin and it wasn't flowing heavily, a few trickles coming out here and there. It just looked gruesome. When she'd first gotten it, it hadn't looking like that. Now-she didn't even want to know.
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on Jun 7, 2012 8:52:50 GMT -5
Nate was glad the blonde seemed to agree with him as she stared at Don, her tone venomous as she spoke out her sentiments about that idea. Obviously, they weren’t going there. She spoke then, as she glanced at Nate, her words curious. Her question was expected of course. It was apparent to everyone, even in fictional literature, that vamps and werewolves didn’t get along. The young werewolf decided to brush off the blonde’s question though—no need to tell her everything.
The blood-covered street was quiet as Nate waited for the blonde to speak up, though it only took her a moment. She gingerly handed her backpack to the young werewolf as she began to speak, her eyes on his. The bag was heavy for a normal human, Nate noted as he took the backpack from the blonde. The young werewolf was a bit surprised by its weight. Even though he knew the girl was half-demon, her small frame was deceiving. Like Nate was one to talk as he glanced at his thin outstretched arm.
The girl began to talk then, breaking the young man’s thoughts as she threatened him again. Really, for someone as injured as her, the girl was speaking as if she could destroy them if she wanted to. Nate smiled though a condescending one. Sure, he thought, go ahead. It wasn’t like Nate had anything to hide. Besides, there was nothing she’d be able to get on him—nothing of value anyway.
The blonde frowned then as she shifted, her body changing and shrinking as she did. The end of it left a pile of clothes where she had been standing while a small pink nose peeked out from under the beanie the blonde had worn. The white nose turned out to be a white cat as it poked out its head. The cat let out a small meow before it hopped onto Nate, resting on his shoulder. The animal’s claws dug onto the young werewolf’s skin, but he didn’t mind. Compared to the slash she had done to his face, this was nothing.
“Hold on,” Nate said just aloud enough for the blonde to hear as he bent over, picking up the beanie, before he turned towards Don. “You’re not coming,” the young werewolf said, his tone flat. There was no way this man was going anywhere near his house.
And with that, Nate was gone. His eyes glowed golden as he ran as fast as he could in human form. Even if the man tried to follow, Nate was confident he couldn’t, not with the young man’s speed. He could still feel the cat’s claws on his shoulder as he sped through alleyways and deserted streets, preferring to run in random directions just in case someone tried to follow. Nate’s home was a secret. Not many knew where the young werewolf lived. He’d always made sure of that. If he didn’t, he’d probably be dead by now. Now though, he was adding another one on the list of those who knew. And she was a stranger at that. Every instinct Nate had screamed at him, begging him to leave this girl behind. It was dangerous, especially since she was supernatural. Still, Nate’s conscience held out—he was responsible for her. If it weren’t for him, she probably wouldn’t be bleeding to death right now.
A few minutes had passed before they finally reached the steps of Nate’s apartment. The building was made of red brick, though due to its age, was now blackened from the smog. The walls and windows on the lowest floor were marred by graffiti; while it’s concrete steps were cracked. Another building stood beside it while an alleyway lay on the side. The building screamed decrepit to anyone who saw it. Still, this was home. At least, it was for Nate.
The young man quickly got inside of the building and climbed all six flights of the building before he stepped into the hallway. The hallways of the building were all the same. Each floor, except for the first, held eight rooms in total per story. The wallpaper had been an olive green color, though it had now began to peel, showing an ivory painted wall. The walls also contained small lamps that gave light to the hallway, though many of the bulbs were dead, while some lamps had gone missing altogether. The remaining working lamps cast a gloomy glow on the hallway, adding more to the building’s already old age.
Nate calmly stepped into the hallway, his shoes leaving indentions on the blackened, crimson rug as he walked forward. As he walked, Nate fished around his pocket, grimacing as the action agitated his bullet wound. The young werewolf took out a small silver key with the number six, zero, nine, engraved on it. As the young werewolf reached the end of the hallway, he jumped, catching a line of what looked like a thin line of string and pulled. The pull caused the ceiling to open up, revealing another set of stairs that lead to another door. Nate quickly walked up the flight of stairs and opened the door with the key. He stepped inside and bent over, the cat jumping of his shoulder as he pulled the stairway up, hiding it from those below.
Nate stood up and surveyed his room. It was just as he had left it.
The living room was about six meters long and four meters wide, its wall a pale purple color while the floors were wooden, judging from the spots not covered with paper containing various types of information. On the middle of the room was a small beaten couch near the wall, obviously worn from the patches of cloth stitched on its holes, while towards its left side was a bookcase full of books. Beside it was a tall bare lamp, its cover missing, thus showing its naked bulb. A small plain-looking table and two chairs were on the farthest right—right next to what looked like a small kitchen that contained a sink, a small stove, and a refrigerator. To the left most corner of the room held a full bookcase and two doors—the bedroom and the bathroom. The bedroom was around two meters long and three meters wide, holding a single bed, a drawer, and two, obviously full, filing cabinets; its walls were of a pale maroon color. The bathroom was white tiled, the space around a meter long and a meter wide, containing a shower and a toilet.
The whole place was obviously, not only cramp, but also a mess as Nate placed the bag and the beanie on the couch before he calmly walked over to the bookcase on the couch’s left, his index finger trailing the spines of books as he searched for the right book. The young werewolf didn’t specifically know what kind of curse, the blonde had been given, but he had a vague idea. From what he saw of the mages, he guessed what kind of magic they practiced. Nate took a few books out of the bookcase and, before he proceeded towards the couch, the young blonde spoke, asking for a blanket.
The young werewolf quickly averted his eyes from the couch as he quickly stepped into his room and grabbed the sheets off his bed.
“Here,” Nate said as he tossed the sheets towards the blonde and, upon making sure she was covered, approached the couch and sat down.
“These books may tell us what you have,” The young werewolf said as he placed them beside him, “But I’ll need to examine your wound. Can you show it to me?” At the last bit, he glanced behind him, his eyes on the blonde.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 7, 2012 10:05:28 GMT -5
Honestly, Catalin was not phased by the apartment though she tried her hardest to memorize the path he'd taken so as to find her own way home once she was healed...or whatever it was he was going to do with her. It was a bit nerve wrecking, not entirely knowing her exact location, but she had an idea and that would have to suffice. Her apartment was probably no better than his only she didn't have a bedroom. She had a studio apartment and the only room with walls was the bathroom. Plus, her entire apartment was painted white. She never bothered painting it if it was rented and all her furniture she'd gotten at thrift stores and the like. Hell, she slept on a bare mattress on the floor because she found it comfortable and she had piles among piles of papers and files neatly stacked and filing cabinets along the walls. Her clothing was folded neatly on top of said filing cabinets and that was about the extent of her apartment and from what she could tell, it wasn't that far from here. Same area - different location.
She forced herself to memorize the street address and the number to his apartment. She liked how secretive it was, though. It was something she most definitely needed for her own place which was on the top floor of a random building in the far right corner by the light that, even if you replace the bulb, is always blinking in and out of existence. As the blanket was tossed in her direction, she wrapped it around her thin frame, continuing to remain behind the couch like a kitten trying to hide from it's owner or a prowling dog. As he asked to look at her wound, her eyes glanced down at the books he had and then she climbed over the back of the couch, turned so she was facing the opposite direction, and twisted the blanket so it stayed around her front and he could see her back. God it felt horrible...it wasn't about being shy because she wasn't. Being naked had become second nature and natural to her. It was the whole freezing cold thing and she was sure it wasn't that cold in his apartment. It was summer time and she hadn't spotted an air conditioner anywhere.
"It's not cold in here...is it?" she asked almost rhetorically as she peered over a bare shoulder at him. She was so damn sleepy...she was tempted to revert back to her feline form, curl up in her beanie, and fall asleep. The feeling of ice along her skin wasn't helping either as she locked her jaw to keep her teeth from trembling. Maybe it was just the loss of blood that had her so cold like she was stuck in the Alaskan Tundra. Her blue orbs wavered as they looked at the book, as if trying to absorb whatever she could see before he could in case she found something before he did. She didn't like dealing with mages. Sure they were human like everyone else but they had magic and magic had been what placed the stupid white collar around her neck. No, it wasn't a fashion statement. It was a curse or maybe even a blessing. In all honesty, she was looking more so for ways to get the collar off than how to heal herself. She felt herself sway a bit and immediately, unintentionally, dug her fingers into the arm rest of the couch to keep herself steady. She let out a stifled yawn, then and an oblivious meow before she was leaning against the back of it on her side.
Falling asleep probably wasn't the best idea. It was like a concussion. If you fall asleep, you could end up never waking up again/slipping into a coma. She'd lost a lot of blood...maybe she'd slip into a coma. Or worse - maybe he'd kill her or something. Though death sounded better than being stuck in a dream world, she knew she would so try to come back and haunt his ass. Seriously. Trusting him just to have him stab her in the back, literally? A gentle purr was produced from the depths of her chest as she started to curl up on her side, her back still to Nathaniel and her legs pulled up to her chest. The trembling was more obvious then, even through the blanket, because she wasn't trying to fight it. Her eyelids drooped over a bit before finally closing.
It had been forever since she'd gotten a full night's rest. Not that she ever needed it. Five hours was always enough but, in her feline form, she did like taking naps all the damn time, stretched out on her window sill where the sun kept her warm. She was still a sucker for warm milk too and overall, she'd be mighty damn happy if he'd let her sleep for a little while - at least an hour. She was sure she'd be fine by then. But before she could fully submerge herself and give herself up to some kind of strange dream world, the pain kept creeping back in. She attempted to shrug it off but then she felt like something sharp was splitting her skin, cutting through nerves and muscles in her back so her eyes shot open.
Catalin involuntarily jumped away from the feeling, abandoning the blanket as she started breathing hard, perched on all fours on the arm rest of the sofa, looking at him with wide eyes like she was terrified of what he'd done to her - but she couldn't tell if it had been Nathaniel maybe trying to heal her or the wound itself just giving her all that pain. Jumping away the way she had, too, hadn't helped her situation. Her nails dug into the fabric of the sofa to keep herself steady as her chest moved up and down with her labored breathing, coming out in soft puffs of air. What the fuck was going on? One minute she felt like she was going to knock out to sleep and the next she was wide awake, eyes looking between Nathaniel and anywhere else as if for an escape route. Was she delirious or something? She wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up in a fluff ball and go to sleep. She wanted to pretend this was all a dream so when she woke up, she could go back to work on her computer. She wanted out.
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