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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on Jun 7, 2012 11:13:45 GMT -5
From the way the blonde crept over the couch, Nate could tell she was getting worse. Already, the girl looked as white as a ghost as she turned, showing the young werewolf the wound on her back. The wound was on the lower right side of her back and was deep enough that it made an uneven concave on her body. It wasn’t as gross as what the young man had initially thought though—at least it didn’t spew pus. The would was circular in nature, though probably because of the explosion of the spell, the wound extended in lines, like rays, making the wound look like a really bloody tattoo of the sun. From the get go, the wound was obviously cursed as blood still flowed from the wound, though it was good that it bled slowly. Still, Nate had to work fast. The blonde was close enough that he could smell her and, by her scent, she wasn’t doing well. He was about to open his book when the blonde spoke, her voice quiet as she suppressed a shiver.
Nate froze. It wasn’t cold. It was actually a bit warm really. The young werewolf placed his hand on the girl’s skin and flinched. The girl’s temperature was high and not the normal kind. Judging from the heat, Nate could tell that if this girl had been a normal, she would already be dead, her insides burned from the heat. Lucky for her she was half-demon, a being tolerant of heat, otherwise, who knows how worse her condition would be in then. He quickly opened one of the books and browsed, his mind working quickly as he tried to remember key facts about what he was dealing with. Cleary, the wound was magical in nature, but as to what kind of magic it was, he couldn’t really say. The whole fucking category of magic had too many damn branches, any one of them could have conjured the curse. Still, it seemed like he had some sort of lead—enhancement. Few mages needed to use enhancement to aid them and, from what he could tell of the mages he had slaughtered, they were proficient in it.
A blood mage perhaps? Nate thought as he flipped through the pages. Yes, I blood mage would fit, seeing as Nate had recent dealings with them. Those bastards. The young werewolf had clearly done his end of the deal and this was what they did to repay him? Nate sighed as he closed the book, picking another one up as he dropped the other; there went another paycheck. That was the downside to his special clientele—most of them ended up stabbing you in the back. Nate was scanning the book, his thoughts still on those backstabbing bastards, when something registered in his brain, causing him to jump. The action had apparently startled the blonde too as she jumped up, perching herself on one of the sofa’s arms on all fours, naked. The young werewolf didn’t notice this though as he sped into his bedroom, opening one of the filing cabinets and rummaging through it.
Here it is! Nate thought with a triumphant smile as he picked up a vial of pure white liquid. He sped back towards the room and finally noticed the blonde. The girl was still perched on the couch and apparently, still naked. By the way she breathed, she was getting worse, even delirious maybe by the way she looked at him. Not good, Nate thought as he considered, for a moment, on what to do. He sighed.
“Sorry,” Nate said before he lunged at her.With a few swift and decisive movements, the young werewolf had the girl on the floor, her bare chest pressed on the cold wooden floorboards as he locked her arms behind her back with one hand while the other held the bottle. Nate was on top of her now as he sat on her legs, preventing any sort of movement from them.
“This is going to hurt like a bitch,” Nate said as he slowly poured the liquid on the wound. The moment the liquid made a small hiss upon contact with the wound, while white bubbles formed in and around the wound—it looked as if the wound was boiling. Nate braced himself then as he was sure of what was coming next.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 7, 2012 13:39:06 GMT -5
She didn't even have time to think before he was suddenly on top of her and she felt her chest smash into the floorboards, her jutting hip bones carving into the wood since he sat on her legs. It didn't help that she was so skeletal. But then she felt something hot hit the wound on her back and her muscles locked up and tensed. She stood completely still, though, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands so hard with strength she didn't realize she had, causing little bloody half-moons. Her eyes closed tightly and she locked her jaw up as much as she could to keep from squirming. Normally, she had a high pain tolerance but this had been a tad bit too much. She remained as still as she possibly could, feeling like whatever he put on her back was traveling up her spine and to the bade of her head. Her veins seemed to surface like spider webs around the wound, traveling up her spine and branching out. When it reached her head and neck, she went from standing still to trying to squirm out of his grip but it was in vain. She was so tired from just trying to stay awake that, after a few moments, she gave up and laid her head on the side, her hair a white mess around her. She kept her eyes closed as she seemed to wait, patiently, for it to pass. It couldn’t last forever. Eventually, the pain would have to go away.
After a while, she opened her eyes, peering up through messy, tangled strands with her round orbs at Nathaniel. She didn’t say anything though, not even phased that he was sitting on top of her naked. She’d had the blanket only moments ago but now that seemed like an eternity ago. She didn’t see where he’d tossed her stuff but she was glad her back pack had a small camera attached to it. God forbid he did something bad to her, she’d have it all on video. She always did that – out of paranoia. Her muscles eventually relaxed as the pain subsided and she let out a breath of air she hadn’t realized she had been holding in, “What was that?” her voice came out small and weak, vulnerable and almost childish much to her dismay and her British accent didn’t help matters at all. She hated seeming this way…like some kind of fragile china doll. She wanted to be strong, wanted to be feared. It was why she wanted her collar off – let out that demon side of her that was so thoroughly controlled. Plus, her collar was choking her a bit from the way she was laying. It was pressed up against her throat but she shifted a bit and the bullet wasn’t stabbing her in the dip of her collar bone anymore.
Catalin made sure not to make sudden movements as she attempted to pull her noodle arms out of the lock Nathaniel had them in, letting them flop down to her sides as her breathing slowly started evening out again. God she was so tired. This day was never going to end…ever or at least it seemed like it. To think she had left her cave of an apartment to go to the black market, sell some weapons and other crap, and she ended up attacked by a werewolf and a group of mages and now she had said werewolf sitting on her. She would have kicked him away if she’d had the strength to…probably would have kicked him right between the legs and the pants she’d given him were tight enough that the way he was sitting on her, even if he didn’t have a boner – she felt everything right up against her tiny, plump bum. Yeah. She would have chopped off his nuts if he hadn’t just saved her life (though she felt she was exaggerating on the saving her life part. She was sure she would have gotten better…or found a way to anyway. The one thing about Catalin was that it was actually very hard to kill her. She always did manage to find some kind of way to survive whatever she was going through), “How does it look? Bad?” she didn’t bother trying to move to see for herself – she was flexible enough to do so. Instead, she remained in her spot, eyes once again drooping closed so her breathing finally became even and barely audible even to those with sensitive ears like her own and Nathaniel’s.
At least he didn’t kill her. If she had a scar, then so be it. Scars, surprisingly to her, were always a good thing no matter where they were. They told a story, reminded you of what you’d gone through and how you came out of it stronger or learning your lesson. But as she laid there, listening to Nathaniel’s voice, she finally did manage to doze off, the gentlest of purrs escaping her vocals every now and again to signify she’d completely knocked out. Too much for one night. At least for her.
Catalin woke up with a yawn. She stretched her limbs, her paws out in front and then each hind leg at a time. She purred a bit as her feline orbs looked around her surroundings. Well, she most definitely wasn’t in her apartment anymore. She wasn’t in a bed either. She must have transformed into a cat in her sleep – which she always did in order to get comfortable. She was on a window sill, the sun draped like a coat over her back and she twisted a bit to lick the wound, which was a lot better, and then pushed her beanie around a bit with the pink of her nose which she climbed out of after sleeping in it. As quiet as a mouse, she jumped down to the floor, her paws hitting the wood with ever so soft thumps and sniffed the air, making her way to the bedroom where the door was slightly ajar. It was still ridiculously early, from what she could see from the way the sun was streaming in, and made sure to make minimal noise. Seeing the sleeping form in the bed, she hopped up onto the mattress and up to the pillow to the crook of his neck and shoulder, curling up into a ball and purring gently.
She most definitely felt better as she licked his ear a bit in hopes of waking him up. She was hungry and was in his apartment. She basically expected him to feed her. Sure she wasn’t his pet but as the host it was his responsibility to make sure his guest was okay, right? Plus, he was the one who took it upon himself to play nurse. Might as well milk it for all it was worth. She rubbed her head into his hair, letting out a tiny meow as she waited patiently. Now she was starving and if he didn’t wake up soon, she’d take out her claws and sink them into his shoulder.
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on Jun 8, 2012 2:45:39 GMT -5
The blonde tensed up then, her whole body rigid as the medicine worked its way into her body. Nate watched as the liquid hissed and bubbled on the wound before it proceeded to penetrate into the wound. Her veins began to show themselves on her skin then as the liquid traveled upwards from her spine to the base of her brain. The whole event must’ve hurt the blonde as she started to squirm in Nathaniel’s grip, though the young werewolf barely noticed as his eyes wandered, locking on the only accessory left on the girl—some sort of collar. It had some symbols on it that looked ancient, Nate thought. Huh. Wonder what that was for.
In all actuality, the medicine he had administered wasn’t really the remedy for the wound. He couldn’t find the cure in time and, seeing as the blonde was already is such a bad state, had to use this one instead. It was a gift from one of his more loyal clients, a type of “cure-all” she had told Nate. The young werewolf hadn’t trusted his client enough to test it on himself, but this felt like the best time to use it. He was glad it worked though as the girl’s skin grew less pale and her breathing became more relaxed.
He looked back at the wound, studying the effects of the medicine, so much so that he had failed to realize that the blonde was peering at him. He only came to his senses when she spoke then, her voice a barely audible whisper. Nate blinked before looking at the girl.
“A cure.” He spoke flatly as he finally placed the half consumed bottle on the couch. Nate wanted to sigh. He was sure that this bottle must have cost a lot, seeing at how well it worked. To use it on a stranger…Still, at least now he knew what it did. The blonde started to squirm her arms from Nate grip and this time, the werewolf let go. The medicine had done its job splendidly—there was no point in holding her anymore.
She spoke again, though she wasn’t looking at him anymore. Nate glanced at the back of her head before he spoke, “The wound’s better,” Nate said as he slowly moved his eyes down to examine her back, checking if the veins were also fading, “It’s still tender, but it looks a great deal better than before. Plus, I think there won’t be any scarring when it’s done. You’re welcome, by the way. Oh, and you haven’t told me your name yet…” Nate trailed off as he saw the where he was sitting—right on the girl’s bare bottom. Like a blur, Nate found himself on the far corner of the room, his eyes averted.
“I think you should change now,” He said, his tone a bit too calm. She seemed to not hear him, as she stayed on the floor, unmoving. “Hey—“ He began before a small purr came from her lips, causing Nate to look back at her before realizing she was in fact naked and thus averted his eyes again. Stupid girl. Did she really like being naked so much? In a stranger’s—a man’s—apartment too was just asking for trouble. And to top it off, she fell asleep! Really, girl didn’t seem know how dangerous the world was, even for someone like her.
“For fuck’s sake,” Nate muttered, exasperated, as he crossed the room quietly grabbing the sheets on the couch. He was just about to drape it over the blonde when he saw that she wasn’t there anymore. Instead of a naked girl, a small white cat was in her place, purring softly as it slept. Nate gingerly picked up the sleeping feline, and placed it on the beanie on his couch before he walked back to his room. The young werewolf changed out of his clothes quickly, sighing in relief as he was finally able to get the damn snug pants off, preferring his straight cut jeans. He quickly removed his shirt and headed towards the bathroom. Nate stood in front of the mirror, examining the wound on his shoulder. The bullet had dug deep, though it was starting to heal, though very slowly. He needed to sterilize the wound of silver. It was good Nate was always prepared for those types of wounds. A lot of people seemed to like shooting him with silver bullets, so much so that the young man needed to stock up.
He took another vial from the file cabinet, this time a light blue gel-like substance. He took a handful of the stuff and slapped it on his wound; the effects were immediate. Nate felt a cool sensation as the gel absorbed all traces of silver from the bullet wound, thus letting his body regenerate normally again. It would take a day or two for it to fully recover, Nate thought as he proceeded to bandage the wound. After he finished, Nate put on the shirt he brought with him. It was a plain white, v-neck shirt. After examining himself again, quickly left the apartment, examining the cat first, making sure it was asleep, before he left. The mages would be back, Nate didn’t doubt, so he thought it best if he paid a visit to them first, rather than have another debacle such as this.
******
It was a long night. Nate hadn’t slept for a week before the whole incident, thus he tried to get at least an hour’s rest before he got up again and figured out what he’d do with the stranger on the other room. The bed was so comfortable though, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep for just an hour. Oh well Nate thought as he fell deeper in his sleep. Something was brushing against his ear—he like that. “Mmmmm…” Nate murmured as whatever it was brushed against his hair. Whatever it was, Nate didn’t want it to stop; it felt kind of nice. Then it meowed. Nate’s eyes flew open in alarm then as he, like blur, pushed himself from his bed, flinging himself towards the wall. He landed on his heels, his eyes surprised as he stared at the white cat on his bed. The night’s events registered a moment before Nate remembered what a cat was doing in his apartment—he was also now too aware that he was only wearing a pair of boxers.
“Can’t I at least get some sleep?” He said irritably as he grabbed a pair of jeans on the bed and put them on before opening his cabinet, “If you want some food, I’d suggest you change back—there’s some clothes on couch I left for you—otherwise, I’ll just pour you a bowl of milk since you like to play cat a lot,” Nate said as he put on a grey shirt with a picture of some dead rocker on it.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 8, 2012 9:48:21 GMT -5
If cats could laugh, Catalin would have. Instead, the mischief just appeared in her round, glowing blue feline orbs as she watched him jump away from her. If she had noticed correctly, he seemed to like it when she had been all rubbing up against him. But she pushed it to the side. Men will always be men or in this case – boys will always be boys. His words were what actually made her want to laugh. Like she’d be opposed to having milk left out for her. She was rather fond of milk…considering in her human form she ate pure junk food anyway (she had no idea how to cook unless it was Ramen noodles or Mac n Cheese in a box). When he suggested she change back into her human form she simply walked across the bed gingerly and hopped onto the floor, all her movements silent before she rubbed against his legs while walking past him, tail wrapping around one leg before she dashed for the living room. Changing back into her human form, she grabbed the clothing on the couch and slipped it on. It made her feel even thinner than she was – which was a big deal considering how much of a twig she tended to look like. She grabbed her beanie and gratefully put it on her head, feeling like it was some sort of security blanket, before she stuck her arms through the holes of the arms, her legs through the pants, and held the pants up a bit with her hands in hopes they wouldn’t fall. Then, she was finally in the kitchen, perched on a chair at the table and looking over at him expectantly as if she’d never reverted back to her human form. Absently she played with the collar around her neck, toying with the little bullet before rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hands as if they were paws that could magically clean the weariness out of her features.
She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she sat down. If she could, she would probably eat a whole buffet but the chances of her actually doing that were slim to none. Even when she’d been living with her nanny and her father, she hadn’t eaten much – especially if no one was home. She only ate when hungry and that was all that was necessary anyway, “Catalin,” she suddenly spoke up, British accented voice ripping through the silence like a ripple in the waves, “You asked my name before I fell asleep, yeah?” she looked up from the table and over at him before she sat Indian styled, one hand toying with the bullet and the other down by her thin ankles and her bare feet with the black painted toe nails, “and milk would actually be perfect – warmed up preferably,” again the look of mischief appeared in her eyes despite her stoic composition. She then seemed to glance around the apartment but in reality was memorizing and studying everything her eyes could find as if they would somehow become a necessity in the near future. She did this everywhere she went and it usually helped her out. In her mind, she was actually thinking of sticking cameras in the entryway by the stairs. No, it wasn’t to spy on him. It was somewhat out of paranoia. Despite her usually touch demeanor, she was literally just a cat. A very young, naïve, sad little white cat who had been born to the wrong set of parents and thrust into the world to fend for herself. She tended to be in the wrong places at the wrong time just like last night only she usually knew how to get out of them. She’d been so totally caught off guard and it had sent her into a whirlwind of pure and utter shit.
Despite remembering trying to memorize the way here, she knew he’d taken twists and turns so she wouldn’t and rightly so, she was having trouble remembering. Was it a right on Kingsley and 5th? Or Broadway and South? So as she got her milk, she gave him a nod that was a mixture of approval and a thank you without actually saying it. She’d told him thank you once already and that was good enough for her, “Is your wound okay?” she asked after taking a hefty swallow of her milk, leaving a faint mustache on her full upper lip which she quickly disposed of with a single flick of her tongue. Not even wasting a drop. Nuh uh. She spoke in reference to when she’d shot him which, honestly, was in all fairness on her end. He had grabbed her and she didn’t know who he was and he smelled like a dog so bam. That’s how you get shot by Catalin Holiday. At least she was expressing concern – though she didn’t regret her actions. Sure, she felt a tad bit guilty but only guilty after he’d healed her own wound. She had tons of anti-silver remedies and even anti-uv remedies for vampires and werewolves and the black market generally got their supply from her. It was necessary to make the antidote to everything she made. You just never knew what could end up happening.
Once she was done with her milk (which took all of two minutes from how hungry she was), she went over to her backpack and unzipped it, peering inside and rummaging through the things in there before producing two fairly large clear canisters with blue gel in it and setting it on the side. Then she pulled out a small laptop and opened it, rocking a bit on her heels as her fingers seemed to zoom across the keyboard, eyes focused and reflecting the black screen with the green numbers running across it. She read it quickly, typing some more stuff in, before absently reaching for what looked like a button on the sleeve of the bag and, upon removing it, showed it was actually a camera as she replayed the events of last night on the small screen. She was playing through it quickly, as if just to give herself a little run through and she would slow down on the parts where Nathaniel started going toward his apartment. Her eyes scanned for street names, familiar landmarks, and after about ten minutes, she figured out where she was and thank the good heavens she didn’t live too far from here. Sticking the button back onto her bag so it blended right in with the others vertically surrounding it, she closed the laptop, put it away, zipped up the back pack and grabbed the two canisters, setting them on the table for him, “Consider it payment,” she said simply, tapping the top of it, “If you get your shit from anyone – they probably got it from me first,” she seemed proud of this little tid bit of information, “But this batch is stronger. New formula,” and it had been tested and was her most expensive batch. Seriously. It was why the blue gel looked more metallic than clear like most of the other ones did. The things technology and some chemistry could do. And now, it was obvious how she made her living – and even though she was pretty damn wealthy because of such a living, it didn’t show at all.
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on Jun 9, 2012 12:09:45 GMT -5
Ugh, Nate thought, kicking the door closed just as the cat slipped out, though not before she playfully brushed herself on his leg. Something was really wrong with that girl—she kept on jumping from place to place. First, she wanted to kill him, now though she was teasing him. Women were generally confusing in a way, but the blonde was a master at it. Yeah, Nate was going to have to kick her out now. There was no more sense for the girl to stay here, Nate decided as he pulled open the door and stepped out into the living room, fully clothed.
He took a quick glance at the blonde on the table before he made any move towards the kitchen, checking whether or not she was clothed. Luckily, she was. The faded red shirt had fit her, though it was a bit loose. The pants though, made the young werewolf grin a bit—that part didn’t fit so well. Still, she should at least be grateful her pants weren’t as tight as the ones he had on last night; that was a memory Nate very much liked to forget. He began to approach her then, preparing to talk when the blonde suddenly spoke. Catlin she had said—that was her name. The sudden introduction caught Nate off guard, though he didn’t show it as he moved passed her, going instead to the fridge.
“I did,” Nate said as he opened the fridge door, taking out a carton milk before closing it again, “Twice, as a matter of fact. Once before we got here, and another after. I’m glad you finally decided to answer though.” His tone was a tad sarcastic, though Nate felt justified in that regard. He had just woken up—and not in the best terms.
“Here,” Nate said as he opened the carton of milk before he placed it on the table, “It’s too hot out for warm milk.” He didn’t wait for her to give her thanks to him as he turned towards the various cupboards lining the walls of the kitchen area, though he did notice her nod before he turned. Nate opened one of the cupboards, taking out a bowl and a spoon, before the blonde spoke again as she gulped down her milk.
“I’ll live.” Nate said flatly as he rummaged another cupboard, this time emerging with a box of cereal. He still hadn’t forgiven her for the bullet wound. Sure, she could call it self-defense, but he did try to explain. Plus, she had already dug her claws on his face before then, so Nate figured that action should’ve cancelled out the whole “kidnapping” thing while the shooting was overkill.
Nate placed the contents in his hands on the table before he opened the refrigerator, emerging once again with another carton of milk—this time, already opened. He sat down from across the blonde as he poured himself some milk and cereal on the bowl before digging in, the two eating and drinking in silence. A few minutes passed as the blonde finished her milk, before she stood and walked over to the couch and unzipped her backpack. Nate watched her as she took out two canisters filled with blue gel, which she set aside, and a laptop, which she opened. Catlin began to type then, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she did, as various numbers in green popped out on the black screen, Nate still watching her as he chewed in between his bites of cereal. Her other hand wandered, seemingly absent-mindedly then, as she typed, though Nate caught on to it quickly. She removed something from her bag, though Nate wasn’t able to see what it was since the couch blocked his view—he could guess what it was though. Nate concentrated on his cereal as the blonde began to finish up, placing her laptop back inside her backpack and zipping it up. Just as the young werewolf finished his breakfast, Cat had come back to the kitchen area, placing the two canisters of the blue gel on the table as she spoke.
Nate smiled at her. “Thanks, though I knew that already,” He said, tone conversational as he stood, taking the bowl to the sink while placing the box back into the cupboard and the milk back in the fridge as he continued, “You’re Catlin Holiday, a half-demon, living not far from here,” Nate said as he walked back to the table, “Though twenty, you’ve steadily built up a certain reputation in the underworld for your little inventions such as these,” He said as he picked up one of the canisters, “Though I’m surprised none of the ones I’ve spoken to knew you were related to him.” Nate finished as he sat back down, as he played with the canister with his hands, though he was looking at Cat.
“Don’t be so surprised,” Nate said before the blonde could speak, “It’s my job to know about people. Also, I’ve had—“ Nate said as he glanced at the clock on the far on top of the door of his room, “—about two days to research you. Yeah, you slept that long. Oh and it’s fine that you know where I live, seeing as I obviously know yours.”
Nate didn’t have to explain to Cat. He was sure she’d puzzle it out. The case regarding the blonde’s identity had surprised Nate at first. There were no records of her on the Internet, nor on the usual sources the young werewolf used, forcing him to use other, more sly means of gaining information. He struck gold then, as information about her came to light, though only in slow trickles. Finding out the identity of her father though was pure luck, which led to him breaking the case wide open. Nate had been rummaging over his old files, looking for more clues on Ms. Holiday, when he stumbled on a picture of the blonde’s father. He sat behind a desk, looking as powerful as he really was, as he posed for some sort of fluff piece. That wasn’t what caught the young werewolf’s attention though causing him to focus on the picture. In the corner, almost by accident, sat a white cat that looked exactly like Catlin did in her cat form. After that, information started flooding in. As for him knowing she knew where he lived, it was obvious he took a look at the blonde’s backpack.
She never said anything about not looking in it.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 9, 2012 17:54:41 GMT -5
Catalin froze when he mentioned knowing about her. She had cleared her information off of any sort of public access but she couldn't clear her father's. It was the only way anyone could really find anything about her. To everyone in the underworld, she was simply known as Cat because it was her signature on virtually everything she did. She didn't do it as a means of tracking her - but more so out of pride. She liked leaving her mark on the world. It made her feel like she wasn't as easily forgettable. Her eyes never left his though her face was stoic as she silently, slowly, sat back down in the chair she'd been in, facing him fully but not putting her hands or elbows on the table - instead leaving them on her lap as if she were trying to carefully control her temper. She could feel her eyes glowing more so in annoyance that he would go to the trouble of looking up her background. Sure, he knew who her father was. That didn't bother her. It was whether or not he figured out her entire history. Okay, he looked in the bag. She'd look too if she had been watching over someone who was asleep for two full days. No, she just didn't want him knowing everything...
Like what happened while she was living in London...what those two guys did to her...That incident had definitely been taken care of to stay out of any form of media. Her nanny had promised five year old Cat that much at least. What about when she lived in Russia? The killing sprees she training she went through...he couldn't have found out about those. Wait...if he was supposedly as good as he was rambling on to be, maybe he found out who her mother was. She'd gone through billions of birth records for the year of her birth at the hospital she was born in and even in the entire country of England but hadn't been able to find anything. Her mother never signed the documents. She'd gone in extensively, picked apart computer systems hoping to find some kind of trace but had found nothing once again.
"What else did you find out?" once she'd spoken, after letting everything he said sink in, it was obvious she was trying to control her emotions as steadily as possible. The anger was there, though, flaring in the pit of her stomach like embers just waiting to ignite and cause a forest fire. What gave him the right to go through her history? That was seriously classified information and though Cat, essentially, did the same for a living - she'd never thought of viewing it the other way around, what it would feel like if someone was digging around looking for crap on you. Though everything he said wasn't really all that important, not even who her father was, it was obvious she was trying to see if he did know something important about her. If he looked into her backpack, sure he would have seen her things - the two guns, the tons of uv bullets and silver ones, the canisters of antidotes, even a few other pistols designed to carry certain things, but her laptop? He wouldn't have been able to crack it open even if he wanted to. She had a video camera in there but she had everything under specific coding. You'd have to be able to read her mind just to understand the language of it all.
Cat waited patiently, eyes glowing as the anger and rage started to brew inside her, causing her eyes to glow despite her face and stance remaining calm, cool, collected...serious. The warmth of the red markings on her collar started to give off the faintest of glows, picking up on her anger and ready to use it against her. But even underneath all the wrath and frustration toward Nathaniel Devlin, there was a surprising sliver of hope. Hope that maybe he found something out about her that even she didn't know and that could aid her in finding her mother, her nanny, taking off this fucking collar without having to find a mage to do it. But she was trying to hide that little bit of hope - preferring to not have any of it than to have it crushed and trampled on over and over again.
"Tell me everything you found out," she repeated, the seriousness of her voice spilling venom. Her hands were wrapped around the hem of the red shirt, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white as she tied steadying herself. She was so focused on trying to get answers, she was started to forget on concentrating to control her rage. The last thing she needed was to black out all over again. She didn't think he'd know anything about the collar other than when she started sporting it - at the age of five - and how it was in every picture of her after that...not that there were very many pictures. Most of them she was in her white cat form and it was either taken by accident or with her father and fallen angel nanny. She had all copies of human photos of her locked away. When she was feeling particularly depressed, she'd take out a folder for a certain age and start burning them one at a time until she felt better. It was easier that way - to get rid of any way to prove she was the legitimate Catalin Holiday.
But it felt like her anger was consuming her the longer she sat there and the more she focused on wanting to rip Nathaniel's tongue out, the more her collar steadily started to glow, as well as the bullet. And when the bullet slowly started shifting into the form of a bell, Cat closed her eyes tightly, took in a deep breath, and as she exhaled, she seemed to relax more so the glowing started to fade again and the metal blob started to turn back into a bullet. She opened her eyes to look down at her hands as she let go of the shirt and flexed her fingers. She had to relax...She used to be so good at controlling her anger but it was becoming far more difficult than usual around this dog...That was probably why. Cats normally didn't get along well with dogs to begin with.
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on Jun 9, 2012 22:44:59 GMT -5
Nate watched as he fiddled with the canister in his hand. From her scent, clearly the girl wasn’t very pleased with the information he gave. Rather, she was pissed, really pissed. It was all part of Nate’s plan though. Sure any decent human being would’ve just wrapped things up, and asked her to leave, but Nate wasn’t a decent human being. He wanted her not only out of his home, but also he wanted discouragements from future visits. What better way than to piss her off? She’d storm out and would think twice before coming back—ever. That was what Nate had hoped, unfortunately the blonde didn’t seem want to take the subtle route of “get the fuck out of my place, and don’t bother me again,” scenario as she spoke, her tone controlled; too controlled. Maybe she wanted a more broad, in your face approach. Nate could do that.
Nate considered that option, it was by any means much easier, but something about her question piqued his interest. She was pissed, and rightly so, but there was something else there. Call it an investigator’s intuition or whatever, but something felt odd with the whole scenario. Curiosity was egging the young werewolf on as he threw out the idea of kicking her out now.
“Enough.” Nate said, tone conversational. He was obviously not saying anything more on the subject. Why give away information? That was just stupid. In his line of work—well, any line of work for that matter—information was power. Nate watched, the girl’s eyes glowed brightly, as she waited for a more suitable answer, her temper flaring even more judging from her scent. Something caught the young werewolf’s eye then, causing him to break eye contact with Catlin. Huh. That was different. Nate thought as he found the symbols on the girl’s collar started to glow faintly. Nate wondered what that was all about. Maybe she would spew out a fireball to incinerate Nate. That was indeed a possibility, given she was half-demon. Nate seemed relaxed though he was ready to act at a moment’s notice should anything happen. He wouldn’t put it passed the blonde; the bullet wound on his shoulder was a very clear reminder of that.
The blonde spoke again, this time her tone venomous, her rage coming out, as she demanded to know what he knew. Again, the whole scenario piqued Nate’s interest as he looked back towards her. She was so controlled with her voice a second ago, why throw that away now just for answers she no doubt already knew? Sure, her knowing what he knew was important though she really didn’t expect him to tell her now did she? The whole collar itself started to glow then as her rage swelled up, causing the young werewolf to glance at it again. The bullet on the collar started to change shape—a bell perhaps? The glow was getting stronger, even so far as it kind of irritated the young werewolf’s eyes when it suddenly started fading while the blonde took a deep breath and exhaled. Nate glanced at her—she had her eyes shut hard in concentration. Whatever she was doing, it was getting rid of the glow on the collar and calming her down; she didn’t smell as angry as she was before. Was there a connection with her rage and the collar perhaps?
The blonde was indeed piquing Nate’s curiosity. Obviously, he didn’t know enough about her, what with her curious collar around her neck glowing and her obvious desire of stopping it. The symbols though…Nate though he had seen those before. He didn’t know where though or how. He’d have to dig further on that. First though he needed to satisfy at least one of his curiosities.
“And why would I want to do that?” Nate asked, brushing off the whole weird incident with Catlin’s collar, “It’s not like I’d be getting any out of it by telling you, Cat.” He finished as he gave her a small smile, before he stood and turned, heading for his bedroom.
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Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 9, 2012 23:30:33 GMT -5
She burned a hole with her eyes in the spot Nathaniel had been in and then was on her feet, probably only inched behind him, and sweeping her back pack off the couch and slinging it over her back, "Investigate people that matter and mind your own fucking business, yeah?Or I'll get daddy to fuck you over, Nathaniel," the venom was thrown in his direction but the rage was diluted since she'd forced herself to calm down. One hand gripped the hem of the pants around her thin waist to keep the from falling. She was headed for the door before she called over her thin shoulder with one hand up to him as if it were some kind of white flag, "and thanks," before she slammed the door so hard behind her, the door knob and hinges had most definitely come a bit loose. She wasn't going to do anything to him - at least not through her father. No, she had her own means of taking care of...pests.
So after planting a few ridiculously tiny cameras on her way out on the outside of the apartment building, she managed, for the most part, to pin point in schedule down and when she was sure he wouldn't be home for an extended amount of time, she planted a few extra cameras around the entrances to his apartment. She'd even been careful with her scent, having managed to develop a gel-like lotion that retains it for about an hour and would seem virtually undetectable should she just go in and out of wherever she was going. After making sure they all worked, she would sit back and let it all record, a mini laptop of hers streaming it into her apartment 24/7. Then, after much digging on him, had literally compiled a portfolio of his entire life, his transactions, down to how many damn boxers he had n his drawer. After all, she even had cameras inside his apartment. The gel would last him forever since you only needed about a quarter size for a wound and he didn't get shot everyday. Those canisters had cameras so she could track werewolves and steer clear of them. She hadn't intentionally bugged his apartment but it happened. The camera was ridiculously small and was only in black and white with no night vision because it was on a damn canister - within the A in CAT which was engraved in curly lettering on the side of it. From what she could see-those things sat on the kitchen table long enough for her to get the layout of the place down.
The joys of being a world class computer hacker.
Hey, if you can't beat 'em...join 'em.
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Post by Nathaniel Devlin on Jun 10, 2012 0:04:11 GMT -5
Nate smiled to himself as the blonde stormed out, slamming his door close as she did. It wasn’t what the young werewolf had hoped she’d do, but it was still satisfying in a way. He knew he had gotten under her skin; she’d be back. Nate was a bit disappointed though; he had wanted to see her collar glow for him once more before she went storming off. The whole scenario was still good though, Nate thought as he glanced out his window, waiting for the girl to come out. At least it bought him enough time to dig more. He was really curious about those little symbols on the blonde’s collar.
Catlin walked out then out of the building, though she didn’t immediately head towards her home. Instead, she seemed to place something—most probably cameras—around the surrounding buildings of Nate’s home. He’d gathered she’d do that, after he had visited her apartment. She had a lot of those tiny little things there too. He wouldn’t even put it passed her to put those little things on the things she had left here, Nate thought as he glanced at the canisters on the table. The girl really was one paranoid bitch—not like Nate wasn’t one too. You kind of had to have paranoia if you wanted to stay in his sort of business. Otherwise, you wouldn’t really survive long.
Nate walked back to his bedroom, considering whether or not to buy a jammer just to screw with the blonde as he undressed. No, that wouldn’t be as fun, Nate thought, as he lay back down on his bed, bare except for his boxers. She’d watch him, he was sure, to gain information. That was what he’d do if he were in her position. Nate couldn’t help but smile to himself as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
Let the games begin.
End.
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