A Demon Among Merchants

[Aveilthé]

OOC: Private RP between Fely and I

It was a scene fresh out of Jack the Ripper. The streets of Escavas were deathly still and quiet. The lamp-posts were the only light source, splashing an eerie, sickly yellow pallor on the cobblestone walkways. The houses of an obvious Victorian flare were shuttered down to the last nook and cranny, as if the dwellers were afraid of something sinister leaking into their peaceful household. And they were right to execute their feelings in such a fashion.

It was no secret that a demon lurked the streets at night, a creature shrouded in darkness. It sounded like a cliche monster straight out of some bedtime story, but this was no laughing matter. The citizens were scared out of their minds, for the elusive, dark creature had started to kill on a regular basis for many a year now... even the law was afraid to intervene, for some of their own started to dwindle in their numbers... The people started to leave Escavas, and those that didn't want to lose their homes stayed where they were--they were the dumb ones.

___

He became notorious these days, and his kind knew his name well. His strength was great, with the escaping abilities like that of the wind itself. Brilliant, sultry green eyes gleamed beneath thick locks of chestnut hair that framed his face in the semi-darkness. There was no moon or stars; the clouds were black and thick and shrouded the eyes of the angels from witnessing the shame and fear that had befallen the once great city. But the green eyes looked on with a deadpan expression, a face fixed resentfully at the topography of the forest of smoky chimneys. He rested against one of them, one knee hoisted up with an arm resting idly against it while his other leg splayed over the slope of the rooftop. Very handsome indeed... but there was a great change about him, too, for once when a face donned such childish innocence was now poisoned by corruption and accepted evil.

He used to hate the idea of being 'evil'--wasn't that word merely a point of view? Perhaps he became 'evil' when he no longer cared... Indeed, with his foot he pushed the corpse of a pale, lifeless young woman off the roof. She rolled off and fell onto the street below.

Much blame was placed on her... that sweet angel... that sweet, sweet, dangerous angel... when she left, he fell into a pit of despair and hated himself... not even his brother could help... the same old dramatic story again... but then, one day he snapped, and gave in to his instincts, and started doing what he pleased. And doing what pleased him felt... good. What would she think of him now? After all their hard work of keeping him secluded and safe... Well, he did a fine job by himself now. A desirable smile spread across his face as he emitted an appeased groan, undoubtedly feeling full from his last meal.

He looked on to his city. His city... no other of his kind roamed here, for they knew well that Fortune violently protected what was rightfully his. Even his brother left, spitefully, arguing that Fortune had changed far too much for him to stand.

A black violin case rested haphazardly on the rooftop next to Fortune. He turned his head slightly and gave it a small glance.

"Serenade the night," he murmured in a strangely sensual French accent as he gently caressed the black leather case, fingers dancing along the edges. "No... perhaps not. Who would listen? Ahh, my dear companion... your strings have been neglected for far too long."

As he said these things, he was already opening the case with nimble fingers, and drew out a handsome violin. As if enticing a lover to him, he brought the instrument to his chin and with his bow, struck the first, sweet chord. Very soon, the night was filled with his music.

[Felypsa]

From the outside, it looked as though the city had not changed. But the moment she set foot within its borders, December felt a shiver of apprehension. It was late; she had been traveling on foot for a long time and was looking forward to a long rest at one of the inns she remembered. The mercenary stood and inhaled the fresh air, tasting the ever-present sea salt on the breeze. How long had it been since she had pursued her own adventures, leaving behind several figures here who had made more of a mark on her life than she cared to admit…?

Even just walking through the cobblestoned streets brought back so many memories of a dark time long ago. December had never intended on becoming the protector of a creature of the night, yet Fortune had never acted like a typical vampire, and his plight had stirred her compassion from her angelic side. But as time went on and matters grew more complicated, the mercenary in her told her to just move on. So she did…and never looked back.

Now she was returning because, for once, it seemed that Escavas truly needed her and was willing to pay for it too…rumors of a new defense team in sore need of fighters had traveled to her ears. And though December had been uneasy about entering this place again, her need for work had caused her to return.

She looked quite different from most Escavans…her limbs were long and lithe, her skin as pale as moonlight, and her platinum hair was long and tied into a tight braid. She carried a sword on her back, a piece of her soul practically, called Seraphim. Warrior women were still rare in Escavas, and December’s very existence was something of a scandal. Yet they would not protest as long as she kept them safe.

Her eyes were bright, the color of amethysts, piercing and dangerous. December walked with a confident saunter, just daring anyone to mess with her. She was not alone, either. Above her flew a miniature-sized snowy owl, her constant companion Imi—a shape-changing mockingbird. December gave a brief smile as Imi hooted down at her. They were both in agreement about returning to Escavas: it was so surreal.

As December headed for the inn she knew of, she heard the sonorous melancholy sound of violin music floating…getting louder as she headed down the street. She was getting closer to it without meaning to. A frown crossed her lips as the sound triggered a memory: her first time meeting Fortune, he had been playing the fiddle for money. How strange that someone should be playing this late at night…yet she did not dare think it was him…that would open up a whole can of worms that December was not sure she was prepared for…

[Aveilthé]

The melody drifted on long and mournful. For those that had a strong sense of musical intuition could almost hear the regret. But these days Fortune was not one to dwell on regrets and sorrow for too long... he had many years to get over such petty emotions. He had climbed that mountain a long time ago. There was barely any human left in him.

He took a deep breath as he played. The scent of the familiar soft sea breeze and dead human girl filled his nostrils. Ahh, peaceful. Perhaps not for long. His mind grappled around at the thoughts of whether he should go off and prey on another unwary young girl. On the other hand, he didn't feel like it, but it was an idea nonetheless, and something to pass the time. As an immortal bloodthirsty creature of darkness, he had nothing but time.

Another deep breath. Salty sea, dried up human husk, and... Instantaneously, his teeth ground in protest with the smell of something unusual and slightly human wafting through the air. He couldn't help but to think that the scent was familiar... from a distant memory... or perhaps from a dream...

He was playing so hard that the strings made an ear-splitting screech, forcing a string to snap. A decision had to be made, but he seemed to have already made one. Wanting to confront this other human abomination subdued the thought to flee. Quite audaciously, the vampire leaned over the roof with bow and violin in either hand, the better to see the thing that dared wander his streets at night. What he saw gave him a nasty shock.

He once knew that tousled pale hair. And those gleaming eyes of lavender, so headstrong and deadly. Once he looked deep into those eyes with such longing and desire, things that were never returned. His lips tingled when he recalled the touch of her lips when he so boldly pressed against her.

What little that was left of his conscience whispered, 'Just walk away,' but it was only a feeble attempt. The vampire was filled with resentment, and letting it consume every particle of his being, his fists broke the bow in twine and crushed the old violin to pieces.

Not caring what consequences lay in front of him, he slid down the roof and purposefully landed noisily to get her attention. Words desired an escape but he found that he could not part his lips; they still tingled bitterly.

[Felypsa]

The resonant melody was suddenly interrupted by the quick shriek of a broken string, and December winced. The silence that followed the violin music seemed so much more foreboding now. Especially as she took in a deep breath, the salty sea air seemed to be filled with the scent of death. She looked up at Imi, who fluttered away, scouting out ahead.

But fate had other things in mind that night. There were a few clattering noises, the sound of smashed wood and then someone scaling down a gutter. Approaching her. December reached back and her sword was in her hand in an instant. The white blade glowed palely before her, casting a halo of light around her as she readied herself for whatever might be coming. Of course, she did not really expect it to be him: the last person she saw as she left Escavas, the first person she would see now as she returned…

But it was…of all the odds…and December’s mind reeled as she took in his form. He was both exactly the same and yet had changed a great deal. There was more of a darkness to him; something that made her heart thud with anxiety. Her face, of course, remained as smooth as always…hardly being disturbed to hint at the emotions roiling within her. She lowered her weapon…but did not sheathe it.

“Fortune.” Her voice was all but a whisper. “I…can’t believe I’m seeing you first…I only just arrived half an hour ago…I have not even checked into an inn…” December straightened somewhat, trying to study his face, but it was obscured in shadow. Not at all like she remembered. He used to be so open and expressive, almost to a fault, overwhelming her with bubbling affection and excitement. Now he was the exact opposite…reminding her, instead, of his brother, who had dwelled within the darkness of the underground for years.

She was afraid of what he might have become in her absence, yet was not so conceited enough to think that he had transformed so much because of her. “How…have you been?” she asked hesitantly; perhaps not the best question, especially since she still did not put away her sword, but this was a situaton December found to be most awkward.

[Aveilthé]

The sea breeze swooped through the vampire's hair, the strands teasing those cold eyes that forever pierced that angel. Finally he moved, jerking away when she asked how he was. Boots lightly crunched over the gravel, the leather curiously stained with dark red. Now that he had moved closer to the light of the lamp posts, and perhaps into December's own light, his features might become a little more sharp. Much of him look neglected; his clothes was torn in some places, the material and lightly flecked in blood.

Fortune couldn't believe it either, that she stood poised in her likeness of an angel warrior like she had done many times in the past. And Imi, too... But a question burned in his mind: why had she come back? Obviously it wasn't to see him, judging by her surprised disposition.

"Bored," he replied, the chill in his voice unmistakable. "Ever since the person I cared for most left without a trace... I have been... bored. But I did make some new friends..."

He gestured carelessly to the body of the young woman that was slightly hidden in shadow a block away; only the blond curls on her head can be seen in the delicate light.

"I'd like you to meet them. Oh, but that can only be accomplished if you enter Heaven, where they are, a place I'll never find. What a pity... How about it, my dear? Do you think angel's blood will burn the lips of a demon?"

And as he said it, he began to move towards her, a predator locked on his target.

[Felypsa]

He stepped into the light, December felt her sense of unease increase. And then he began to speak, and the coldness in his voice made her eyes widen slightly. She studied him for a moment, wondering if he was trying to psych her out. But when he motioned to one side and her gaze flickered over to that blonde head. Her heart stopped and she looked back at him. What had happened to him?…

He started to approach her, and she took a step back, raising her sword so he could remember how the holy sword had once affected him. “You’re the monster that stalks the night,” she whispered, realization dawning on her. “There are people in this town who are trying to defend themselves against a horror…if I had any idea it was you…” There was a great pain in her chest. Yes, she had abandoned him, but she had thought she had left him during a more stable time. She had had to move on, but Fortune…

He had been a friend, and now she hated to see him like this. How had this happened? “I don’t want to fight you,” she said slowly, and it was true. Long ago, when their friendship was formed, she had sworn that if he ever became like this, she would not hesitate to kill him. But now she did…simply because she never would have believed this would happen. Imi fluttered overhead, not wanting to come down just yet. December’s muscles tensed as she looked at Fortune, for once, her stoic expression slipping to show the distress she was feeling within.

[Aveilthé]

He eyed the sword, flooded with memories of how it used to buffer and cause him a great deal of hurt. But he could only smile and chuckle a little as he continued to ease forward, somewhat bent. "Going to stab me with your butter-knife?" he cooed softly, those pale lips curled upward.

He pulled up a hand and examined it, seeing that it was still lightly caked in the young woman's blood. He gave his fingers a small lick, and groaned at the coppery taste. He spoke, his voice thick with hunger. "You're far too late, sweet angel. I am no longer the person you once knew. I've embraced what I am... I am a force of nature... and I am doing what nature demands of me. And it feels... so... good."

And all too suddenly, he lunged at her, his body a mere blur.

A young woman swore under her breath as she drew out a cigarette from inside the opening of a bullet-proof vest. Her fellows who lingered about waiting for orders scowled at her for wanting to smoke at a time like this, but they knew better than to say anything against their Squadron Leader.

Taking a deep puff, the woman ran a hand through her black hair cropped short and thought that after all this was over, it needed a good trim. Brown eyes of the woman surveyed the city of Escavas and wondered how the hell they were going to capture a freak of nature that supposedly moved like the wind. But that's not what aggravated her the most. How can a city not contain one weirdo? Stupid merchants and their stupid society and their stupid... stupidness. After finishing the cig, she flicked it to the ground. At least her nerves calmed down a bit.

Time to shake some ass.

__

They moved swiftly through the night, armed and protected down to the boot. Quickest of them was the more slender of the lot, though the armor made her look bulkier in appearance. Her entire head was shrouded in a helmet and in her arms she cradled a high-standard automatic weapon. Many buildings contained obscured snipers. Sequoia was unable to see them, but she smiled... she knew they were there.

[Felypsa]

He was completely transformed. As he said, there was nothing in those cruel eyes, that deadly smirk, that recalled the guilt-filled, affectionate Fortune she remembered. Her heart felt like it was breaking as she watched him suck off the last of the blood with such relish…no, this was not an act. He was truly a creature of the night now. And she was going to have to kill him or else be killed.

She lifted her sword up to defend herself, but too slowly, for Fortune moved much faster than she had anticipated. Her hesitation would prove her undoing. She felt his body slam into hers and she fell back, trying to spin around to attack him. But to her horror, she felt Seraphim slip from her fingers. Her eyes widened as she fell to the ground, looking at the sword, which had ceased to gleam. In fact, it seemed to be like any ordinary sword…as if its magic had been stripped…

But that was impossible: wasn’t it?

Why would Seraphim abandon her at a time like this? December turned to look up at Fortune, heart pounding. This was truly her fault after all. She had been too mercenary, had forgone her friendship for strength…and that act of abandonment had created a monster. “Father forgive me,” she whispered, her throat closing. She had never felt so weak before.

Was this how she was going to meet her end? At the hands of one who had once adored her, whose love she had thrown away?

From above, Imi raced down…she did not know why December was lying there prone, her sword clattered to one side, useless. She did not know why the ever-stubborn mercenary had given up so quickly. Seeing Fortune like this must have truly shaken her…but Imi could not let her just give in. The mockingbird changed into a tiny dragon as she aimed for Fortune’s head and face, her little claws out and a fireball shooting toward him. She could not single-handedly defeat a vampire, but perhaps she could distract him enough to save December.

[Aveilthé]

Fortune straightened up, rolling both his shoulders and his neck until they gave a satisfying snap. He turned, and was met with surprise and amusement by what he saw.

"So soon, angel?"

Both brows lofted as he moved to claim the sword. He held it aloft as if appraising it, then stood over the fallen angel with the somewhat useless sword by his side. His hair spilled over his face and forehead, nearly shrouding most of his facial features.

For the longest time he just stood there, motionless, the only movements being his grip on the sword as he subconsciously traced lazy circles in the ground with it. He moved the tip of the blade to her shoulder and lightly dragged it to her chin, moving strands of December's hair out of the way, perhaps the better for him to see the shock and fear lining her face. Good. She was feeling pain. He knelt down, hatred practically drawn from him in waves. He would enjoy killing her. He parted his lips, showing off a wicked smile.

"Au revoir."

Before he could apply the fatal kiss, he heard the flutter of Imi's wings and turned quickly to see that she had shifted into a small dragon. He jerked away, but only in time; flames burnt a hole through his clothes and managed to put a fine red mark on his shoulder. Snarling out a string of incomprehensible words, he lashed out at the bird, blinded by rage.

Not too long after, something else whizzed furiously close past Fortune's face. This, he had not seen coming. He turned around to see that almost every corner was blocked by figures dressed in black, wielding large military weapons aimed at his head.

[Felypsa]

Shame burned in her body, bringing an unusually red flush to that pale face of hers. She hadn’t even had a chance to fight him. Her weakness was frustrating; December never would have thought she would have fallen this quickly, and to him…yet she had to accept this fate. It was what she deserved after all, wasn’t it? She had done this to him…now he was paying her back. That was justice…that was the way of the world…even Seraphim abandoned her now, and she was no more angel than any human at this point…

Her heart still strained with an endless ache as she watched him, his movements slow and methodical. Any second, even as he toyed with her sword without fear, even as he drew it up her body and brushed the sharp tip along her face, she felt the vain hope that he might snap out of it. Realize what he was doing and stop…but instead, her helpless plight only fired up the wickedness in his gaze…

Then he bade her goodbye, and December’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She should fight…she could still kick him and run…but she was paralyzed by the shock of it all…

Thank God for Imi, who still had her wits about her. December heard the small creature approach and watch as Fortune jerked back, a bright burst of flame at his shoulder. The vampire contorted his face in fury and lashed at Imi, who nimbly dodged his efforts, trying to make her way back to December. The seraph had also shaken off her shock for now and was scrambling up, ready to run.

But it seemed fate had other plans. December froze again, now facing several black-clad figures with guns pointed at Fortune. The mercenary frowned. She had not known the squad she had heard about had such advanced technology. Not that it mattered against a vampire.

December took several steps back into the shadows. She wanted desperately to try to retrieve her sword, but Fortune still had a very firm grip on it. And Seraphim was not burning the vampire as it would have before. Its holy power had been sapped the moment December dropped it. She took a deep breath and looked over at Imi, who had landed on her shoulder protectively.

“You can’t kill him with bullets,” she said quietly, her whisper echoing in the night as she looked around at the operatives. “He’ll only come back…angrier than ever…” She flashed back to a time when Fortune brokenheartedly told her about his many suicide attempts in the beginning. Obviously, none of them were successful. December didn’t even know if Seraphim could kill him. It definitely could not now.

[Aveilthé]

Can't kill him with bullets...

Sequoia's first impression of the sword-wielding girl was that she is incompetent and had no idea what the hell she was doing confronting this city's notorious terrorist. Her assumptions appeared true (and she rolled her eyes) when the girl found herself disarmed and on the floor. She should have left it to the professionals. Too bad she had no idea that December was one of the few top mercenaries they hired to help against the terrorist.

But when the voice was heard among her squad, they all exchanged doubtful glances. It had to be the girl on the ground that said these things, no doubt about it. She considered for a moment.

"Well, we've got to try," she whispered back, feeling foolish for she didn't know if her own voice would carry to the girl. This city was very strange... and so were it's people. Sequoia was skeptical when it came to magic and crap like that, but...

"Rain the bastard with bullets, then. Fire at will but do not harm the girl. Move in when he falls." Her order through the radio in her helmet. A few gave a short nod, aimed, and fired relentlessly, the city suddenly flooded with the thunder of their guns.

With enormous strength, the vampire swung at the bird with the sword. The second time he tried, he felt his chest jerk forward, pain shooting up and down his entire body. His front blossomed with fresh blood, and he looked down, mildly stunned that he got hit. He turned, wild green eyes burning savagely at all the stupid humans.

He started to walk towards them coolly as they all kept shooting at him, feeling his flesh rip from many parts of his body. His clothes were shredded, and his eyes were bleeding. Unfortunately his body was starting to slow, and he felt himself stumble and fall to his knees. He could not die, but without a properly functioning body, he couldn't move much any more. The sword slipped from his wet fingers and clattered onto the cobblestones. Red lips spread across a twisted face, his bloodied teeth exposed. He fell forward onto his hands like some bizarre dog. When a bullet hit his brain, he fell to his side, unconscious.

The squad promptly moved in and surrounded him. Tailed by two men, Sequoia rushed to December who scrambled to safety in the darkness. "Oh Jesus... are you alright?" She took off her helmet as she made to help December up. "I'm Captain Istas of the 1st Elite Force of the Thorian Corps Special Ops."

[Felypsa]

For a moment, December didn’t know what was going to happen, and she held her breath in the suspense of it. But then the pounding, deafening sounds of the bullets filled the air and she actually flinched, stepping back. She never liked guns and this was a big reason why. She couldn’t watch, didn’t want to see the form of Fortune burst into blood and bits of skin. He would heal but it would take a long time, and he would be in pain for the duration of it. As much as she was horrified by him now, she could not rejoice at his suffering like this.

She only looked up when everything stopped. And that was when a woman rushed over to her, introducing herself with an extremely lengthy title. “I’m fine,” December replied quietly, rising up and glancing over at her mockingbird companion. “Thank you,” she whispered to Imi, who only preened herself in response. The mercenary looked back at Sequoia and gave a proper bow of her head. “I’m December. A mercenary you hired, I believe, because of my experience in fighting creatures like this.” Yet she hadn’t known it would be Fortune…even now, she could not look at his shredded, prone form. It was too much.

“He’s not dead yet. Believe it or not, he’ll recover from all of this.” She ran a hand through her hair and sighed, trying to push back all the emotions back for now. She was too close to this case and she knew it. But she could still try to act professional and get the job done. Try.

[Aveilthé]

"Eh... I highly doubt that." Sequoia couldn't help it as she frowned at December's bowing form. "He's been shredded... I don't think anyone can survive that." Rubbing the side of her face with a finger in consideration however, she finally said, "I guess to be safe we'll keep him locked up. I'm pretty damn wrong about you, I thought you were a civilian trying to take on this guy. No offense though, you shoulda waited for backup even though you're an experienced fighter and all. Real glad we came in time to save your ass."

She paused, giving Imi a glance, then turning back to December. She was trying to be as formal and friendly as her job would allow, but she also kept guarded. Mercenaries... "Would you like to stay at HQ? It's free. Food ain't great though... If not maybe you can stop by whenever because there's this guy there--you said your name is December, right?--was looking for you and I guess he thought you'd be there." Another pause... damn Sequoia felt awkward. She wasn't used to this kind of thing. "Err... thanks for your help, merc."

[Felypsa]

December didn’t want to look over at him. Maybe Sequoia was right. After all, December only had it on faith that Fortune could survive just about everything. She had seen him bounce back from quite a lot, but never something like this. She sighed. Perhaps a small part of her was just hoping he wasn’t dead, even though he clearly had to die now.

The captain was talking and December forced herself to pay attention to her superior. She was offering her a place at their headquarters, and the mercenary bowed again in thanks. “That would be most generous of you. Thank you.” They were going to lock Fortune up anyway, just in case. That was probably a good idea. Even if they dumped him in the harbor, he might yet come back. “I am sorry I did not wait,” she added. “I had only just arrived in town and discovered him. I thought there would be more I could do on my own.”

Like hell was she going to tell Sequoia about her connection to Fortune. That would bring her under suspicion. Not to mention, December was still embarrassed about her failure to do anything about him. Maybe if she had a second chance—but no, she shouldn’t even think of that. He was probably gone. And even if he wasn’t, she shouldn’t be the one to face him again. There was too much of a conflict of interest. “Let’s go, then.”

oOc| and you can skip to when they're in HQ or more bonding time with Dec and Seq or whatever you want =3

[Aveilthé]

Sequoia gave a brief nod before turning away to put on her helmet. "Alright." Oh, she was certain. No doubt the sucker was dangling off a pitchfork of a demon in hell, she thought with a crude smirk. Hopefully the bastard got what he deserved... if there even was a hell... seemed like a fitting place for a monster.

...but...

The nagging in the back of her mind kept telling her that she did the right thing by deciding to lock him up. What if he could regenerate? After all that? Seemed impossible. And yet...

She shook her head, deciding that only time will tell.

___

HQ wasn't that far in Escavas, but they still had to take to the air to get to their destination. Citizens below growled in irritation at the noise from these foreign technology-loving dunderheads. Thankful bastards. When they finally reached HQ with the seemingly dead prisoner in tow, Sequoia leaped gracefully from the aircraft with helmet under her arm, glad to have her feet on the ground. She whipped out a cigarette and put it at the corner of her lips, scrambling her few pockets for her Zippo. Looking up at HQ with dusty brown eyes, she appreciatively imagined a cup of strong coffee brewing inside someone's little makeshift chamber.

It was an enormous building, surrounded by military men and women armed to the teeth. The building itself was lent to those odd Thorians by the reluctantly thankful Escavanian government. The pretty architecture screamed Victorian (and possibly held inspirations from other places) and reeked the splendor of antiquity. But it was not just some building decked out to please the eyeballs, it was a prison. A rather boring and extensive history surrounded every facet of this building, therefore it shall not be mentioned (it was going to be but it got eliminated upon revision).

With how fast the operation had been carried out, Sequoia had to snort. All this for one guy. Outstanding. Then she realized she couldn't find her lighter. Damnit.

___

When things were settled, Sequoia Istas laid down on a makeshift bed in a large room that looked like a meeting room of some kind. A long ornately decorated table had it's surface contents shoved aside to make way for busy papers that was the business of the military's.

It was fairly empty save for a rather large chair that sank and groaned under the weight of a very large and muscly man of possibly Asian and African American descent. He had a shiny round head with no hair and no eyebrows, decked out in a rather long, casual shirt meant for a very portly man and donning large pants that would have otherwise looked baggy on a pretty tall man. No doubt he was a giant of some kind, and not based off on a well-known character from that one best-selling book with the popular title so don't ask.

Sequoia kept to her own thoughts, keeping everyone else out of her head. With every moment passing, she realized that if one man can terrorize a large city all by himself, then he must be quite powerful and very, very dangerous. Was this place safe? Is he still alive? Would the prison hold him...? She needed her questions answered.