| Baby Steps |
[07 Nov 2005|03:00pm] |
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mood |
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 devious |
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------ Non Journal Entry ------
It had become a well known fact and common knowledge that neither Kael nor Joseph cared much for their demons captors and neither man seemed afraid of punishment or recrimination which explained why the two men were talking in the far corner.
“You know what Whistler told us about the shackle?” Kael murmured softly as he tipped his head towards Joseph.
Joseph paused as he was about to take a sip from his water and gave a nod of his head. “I remember what about it?”
Kael leaned in till he was close enough so only Joseph would be able to hear his whisper. “I figured out how to get it off.”
His head turned slowly at the admission and an eyebrow lifted slowly, “Do I even want to know how you tested the theory?” Joseph was a man paid to make observations and he couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in Kael and the way in which he seemed to be using it. Joseph wasn’t going to judge, he really didn’t have the right moral fiber to judge anyone and if it was working to keep Kael motivated then all the better.
“You probably don’t want to know,” Kael answered truthfully as he glanced away from Joseph. “But you do want to know if the theory works, right?”
A nod was given at this point, “Of course I do.” He glanced to his own shackle and a scowl marred his handsome features, he was really looking forward to the day when he didn’t have to worry about that weight hanging around his ankle.
Kael smirked very briefly which seemed to lift his tired features, “It works.”
“It does?” Joseph asked before he inhaled and forced himself to calm down. If they could get the shackle off then they might stand a chance. “I guess that means one of our group is getting out of here.”
Kael was confused, “Why only one?”
Joseph tipped his head in Kael’s direction, “The rest of us are going to have to serve as a distraction, getting one person out will be easy but getting a group out won’t be. All we need is one person who can get out and send out word, all it takes is one slip and a thousand opportunities open up.”
That made sense, Kael simply gave a nod of his head and looked around at their sleeping companions. “Who do you think is the best person for the job?”
Joseph went through the mental list of faces and names he had compiled during his time in the camp. Hannah was a no because he didn’t think she’d be able to last out the days it would take to get back to civilization, Victoria was a vampire and the desert didn’t provide much cover during daylight hours, he hardly knew Whistler but he was a friend of Rhiannon’s which worked in his favour however Joseph had his doubts about whether or not he has the first idea of which way was which. Joseph himself couldn’t go because he had made that promise to Hannah and in some way, he felt responsible for the others in the camp itself and he felt a bond with them even if he hadn’t known the people before this place.
His head turned and his eyes rested very firmly on Kael before he merely gave a smile.
Kael slid his eyes to Joseph and noticed the smile, it was disconcerting to say the least and he slowly began to get the idea. “You’re thinking me, aren’t you?”
“We have a winner,” Joseph muttered with a very soft chuckle.
Kael flexed his jaw and then pushed a hand through his hair, “So …about this distraction.” His voice trailed off as his head turned to look at Joseph.
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| (de)Evolution |
[07 Nov 2005|05:47pm] |
The truest of natural predators are opportunists. They hunt not for the thrill of physical superiority, but to reap the sustenance of life; that which is necessary for survival. In the hours or days that pass before their prey is ripe for consumption, they lay patient wait in shadows; prowling, skulking through the cloak of their cover, until the moment is right to strike. And then, with a final burst of speed, they snap their jowls, roar and devour.
While an army of pureblood demons stormed the streets in chase of the vampiress Katherine, another had her eye on the quarry; an opportunist hunting for that which she considered necessary for survival. Her victual was love, an emotion that could be consumed as well as any food, and could thrive even in a vessel as dark as she had become.
Though Rhiannon sought the vampiress to the same end – reclaiming the Eye of Brahma -- she tracked in primitive ways that would keep her pursuit unknown, so that even the sharp-witted Katherine wouldn’t suspect that a fearsome opponent was coming for her.
The vestiges of a Slayer’s most visceral instincts were buried in a mire of humanity that masked her power’s origin. So deeply, in fact, that they might go undiscovered. Untapped. Unless, of course, ancestral instincts were awakened by darkened means.
Such was the case for Rhiannon. She had become a carrier of Elfleda’s blood. That essence coursed through her veins, corrupting on a level purer than most because of the raw material existing within a Slayer. Power born of darkness had been exploited, molded, coaxed into the living, breathing representation of Elfleda's will and more... The body of a Slayer, a lion among humans. Of earth and pitch, of soil and shadow, of animal and blackened spirit.
The vampire had fled into shadows, and so shadows Rhiannon stalked. She behaved more as an animal than woman now, with hair wild and unfettered, grime layering white skin, and the stench of humanity hidden so well that even the purebloods hadn’t found it.
Every step that Rhiannon took, she was followed. Ushered along by the unseen hands of creatures that writhed and cavorted in darkness. Elfleda’s minions, not showing the way, but following in a triumphant parade. It wasn’t a sign of Rhiannon’s importance, but of the vital role the Eye of Brahma would play for Leviathan, if she succeeded.
They skittered along and whispered encouragement, though none was required. Rhiannon’s iron will was her only impetus. And when she found her first clue, they were sure to have reported the finding to their Mistress.
Like a trail of breadcrumbs, the drained corpses led the way to Katherine’s territory. Rhiannon’s memory of Katherine’s smell bolstered her. The tight press of their bodies while locked in battle had fingerprinted the scent of Katherine’s skin. The bite that her fangs attempted may’ve missed, but the fragrance of her saliva was useful now.
At each of Katherine’s victims, Rhiannon became vulturesque, and knelt close to the ground. She wound her fingers into hair and yanked the body into position. A spine against her breasts, a neck bent beneath her nose and mouth. Like a vampire would do.
Rhiannon studied the puncture wounds with hungry eyes, and memorized the look of the bite. Nostrils flared as she nuzzled the cold, dead skin. Olfactory senses were on hyper drive, taking in the odors Katherine left behind. Mouth watering as she parted her lips and ran her taste buds over the punctures. Already devouring Katherine.
And when each body had been sapped of its information, she tossed it aside like the trash it was to her. Kept moving, then. Closing in. Waiting for the moment when Katherine would come out, and the time would be right to strike.
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