A Mercenary Among Merchants

[Felypsa]

The moment December was able to see the blood on Fortuné's face, she reflexively brought Seraphim up until its sharp point was only millimeters away from the vampire's throat. Her eyes glittered coldly and she regarded Fortuné without expression. There was certainly no pity or sympathy in her gaze; but neither was there scorn. She simply looked at him, holding her silver-white sword steady in its position. She simply looked, and listened. When he collapsed, she finally withdrew her sword - though her hand still gripped its hilt tightly and she was more than ready to defend herself if need be. She watched Fortuné, staring down at the top of his head, listening to him rave and sob.

Several moments passed in silence. Not even Imi made a sound. December shifted her gaze from the weeping Fortuné to the dead man, then back to Fortuné. The elder human was gone; there was nothing that could be done for him now. And there was no use lamenting his death either, though it was a very tragic end for the poor old man. December was not one to dwell in the past for very long; most of the time she thought about the present and future. At present, she could only do something for Fortuné. For the future, she could help prevent further incidents like this.

But a vampire! She had ever only heard tales about such a creature of the dark, of the world below, of death. Demons and vampires and other such hellspawn were the worst enemies of her father's kind - her kind. How could she possibly help Fortuné, when he was such a beast? Shouldn't she vanquish him instead, and rid the world of one such evil?

She mulled it over for a while. Finally she spoke. "I would kill you now to end your misery and to save countless others from your hunger...but I know it would do no good. You would only come back, and possibly stronger than you are now." She slackened her grip on Seraphim, but not by much. "I should destroy you permanently," she muttered, half to herself, half to Fortuné. "I know how. And surely it's the only way...surely there is no idealistic 'better' way. And any other way is better than this. This is no life for anyone to live - nor should anyone else have to suffer from it." She glared at Fortuné, but he probably didn't see it, since it was dark and he wasn't looking at her anyway. "Are you done for the night?" she asked him dryly. "If you are, let's dispose of that man where no one will find him - no use raising suspicion. Then we'll take a little walk. Get up, and quit blubbering. Crying's no use - it's not going to save any lives. And we've got some lives to save. So hurry up, let's go." She suited actions to words and went over to the corpse, grimacing. She called to Imi, who became dragon and flapped over to December's side. "Cremation is the best way," she said to the mockingbird-dragon. "I'm sorry we can't give him a proper burial, but if we cremate him, we can at least scatter his ashes to the winds...and also, no one will be able to track us that way." She paused and turned back to Fortuné, as if to make sure he was finished with this particular meal.

The whole situation, and the way she was so cold-heartedly handling it, nauseated her, but it was the best way to deal with it all. She couldn't allow emotions to get in; if she did, they would overwhelm her and she would be just like Fortuné, crying uselessly and feeling completely helpless. She hated that.

[Aveilthé]

"It's... it's not my fault, and... yet, it is! For two centuries
I have lived this curse. Tis already killed my spirit.
I am immortal, and if I could be killed, I would ask you
to kill me now! Through my chest, and into my heart!
Often times I inquire why God in Heaven had cursed me
with it - for I was trying to salvage someone dear to me.
Alas..." He paused, standing rigidly as he shivered
from the chilly air. Again there was nothing more to say
about his and the poor human's conditions.

"It is rare for a woman to carry a sword in these parts,"
commented he blunty after a few moments,
his green eyes flashing as he gestured at her
glimmering weapon. "You're foreign, are you not?"
He was not grinning, but he had a frown,
and his voice was soft with natural curiousity.
His expression was gentle nonetheless - clashed with
the blood all over his face and white shirt. Eyes followed
the mockingbird-dragon weaving it's way to the human.
For the moment, he was too upset and traumatized
to realize that Imi was a shapeshifting creature -
he seemed to see right through the mockingbird.

"Aye. The poor soul is practically dry. I had to kill him...
for if I hadn't finished him off completely... he would have
turned into one of my kind. One is... enough for
this city..." His voice trailed off some as he stuffed
his hands into the pockets of his black pants.

[Felypsa]

December made a derisive sound. "Rare it may be, I suggest you get used to it." Her eyes widened very slightly when he asked if she was foreign, but then she realized he only meant foreign to Escavas...not to the entire mortal world. She sighed. "Yes, foreign. I am that." She eyed Fortuné's messy shirt and scowled. "And you need to get cleaned up. I may not be from around here, but I'm pretty sure that bloody clothes raise suspicion. And wipe your mouth," she added, of all things sounding like a strict mother to her child eating spaghetti sauce messily. She handed Fortuné a canteen mostly full of water so he could clean himself somewhat.

Then she gestured to the dead man with her sword. "I agree in that killing him was much kinder than the alternative," she said. "But we've got to get him out of here. So clean up so you look presentable, and we'll carry him to a safe place where we can cremate him. If anyone stops and asks, we'll say he's our aged father who just died of cholera. On second thought," she added reflectively, mostly to herself, "it might be best to bury him. Cremation gives off smoke...attract attention..." Muttering to herself like this, she bent down as if to pick up the older man, then paused.

She was still holding Seraphim. She needed both arms to carry the corpse - but she didn't like sheathing her sword in such close vicinity as a vampire, even a moral one like Fortuné. Then again, as Fortuné just said, a woman with a sword in these parts was a rare sight. People would wonder, especially if she had it out like she was going to use it. December glanced at Fortuné once more, then sighed. She would just have to trust that he would not attack her. She slowly placed Seraphim back into the sheath on her back, then bent down and picked up the old man. He was surprisingly light - but then again, she thought wryly, he had just been sucked dry by a vampire.

"Don't forget your violin," she said to Fortuné, nodding to the case she had set on the ground. Then she stood there, with Imi unobtrusively on her shoulder and the dead man in her arms, and waited. She would have Fortuné leave the alleyway first; she would not ever let him leave her sight; she would not ever have her back to him.[/color]

[Aveilthé]

OOC: *Gigglesnerk* Fortuné is such a fop. x)

"Why are you helping me out, my lady?" Fortuné inquired
sadly in his light French accent, weakly stretching his
hand to retrieve the canteen of water. Before
soaking himself, he'd unbottun his red vest - it was
already red, so the blood upon it didn't
make much of a difference. He laid that aside, and peeled
off his wet crimson-on-white shirt. "Very odd, but
perhaps tis not so odd for a lady bearing a sword.
What are you?" he questioned still, as he shyly revealed
his bare chest. Indeed he had the look of a young man,
perhaps to be in his early twenties. But he was, in fact,
far from being such an age. Oh yes. Far from it.

As he prepared to clean himself, he'd first sit upon the
grey cobbled ground and take the cleaner area of his
white shirt and soak it with water. He'd then wash his
his face off. Soon it was clean. Now he'd take the
canteen, and pour it on the white cloth, and wring it
into a spiral until the blood seeped into the ground.

"You're the only one that knows. Only one. I... don't
know how to thank you... but I wish you hadn't."
He stood up straight, now wearing his clothes fresh
and clean as if he just pulled them off of a clothes line -
however damp still. He grabbed the
considerably lighter canteen and handed it to December,
before taking the handle to his violin case. "My violin.
Ahh... It once belonged to my father," he mused,
brushing his pale hands across the surface of the
violin's case.

[Felypsa]

December watched him clean up for a while, before sighing and looking away modestly. Why was she helping him? “Let’s just say…my father would have done no less. I would like to be worthy of my father. Besides, I think this should be part of my learning experience. I’ve never encountered a vampire before.” That last was said with some light humor, although she was being half-serious. “And I’d prefer it if you just called me December. I’m nobody’s lady.”

She listened to him talk still, and shifted uncomfortably when he asked rather bluntly “What are you?” How was she to answer that? Would he believe the truth—and if he did, would it make it awkward? No one knew her heritage. But he was a vampire—surely he wouldn’t care…then again, how was she to know? Maybe seraphic blood was more filling and delicious than human blood—maybe he would be tempted to attack her. She debated it silently for a while. Finally, she said, “Only half of my blood is human, like yours. The other half—my father’s half—is…well…” She wasn’t sure how to say it eloquently. At length she finished bluntly, “I’m half a seraph. Half an angel, sort of. Though not by choice.” She smiled wryly. “Now you’re the only one to know my secret too. So we’re even.” She looked to the dark sky. “Are you ready? Before long my arms’ll get tired of holding this old man—and we haven’t even started walking yet…”[/color]

[Aveilthé]

OOC: Geez it's fun roleplaying this charry. It's like he's taking on the femenine role, whereas December is taking on a lot of masculine responsibilty. Ehheh. That's why I love this guy; he's such a softie and yet so dangerous, rawr This plot ought to be interesting. *Cracks knuckles*

"I was half right then," he grinned, his old expression
filled with lightheartedness. "You are an angel. My
saviour. Perhaps tis was fate then that drew me to
you - or perhaps the other way around?" He muttered,
cradling his violin as he looked upon December
with a far-away gaze. "Perhaps one day my saviour
will lead me away from the path of darkness... and into
light again... as I have longed for it for so long. I...
cannot face the light." He let in a soft sigh; almost
melodramatically.

"Tis impolite to call a lady here by her first name,
particularly a stranger who hardly knows...!" he
would later say, strapping his violin case craftily to
his belt just so he could help her carry the ill-fated
man away. However his voice trailed off a bit, for
he didn't know what he was saying anyway.
But oh, she was something else, and he admired
her for it. She was certainly independent, and had
so many secrets of her own... nothing unlike his own.
Still, he kept to treating her with respect... for he really
liked her. December mothering him didn't bother him
a single bit. Perhaps he was devoid of her attitude.

Poor sap. Love is dangerous and blind, you fool!

"Right, Lady December... I am truly sorry you had
to know me like this. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be
kept for secret long. How foolish of me; for so long
I did my best to control it... for hunger of blood only
comes every other week. Be warned; perhaps you
all ready know, but humans have thier way of
knowing... if you understand what I mean..." He whispered
this, as if people were listening in on them. But there
was no body to be seen, at least as of now. So long
as they were hidden, nobody could find them.

[Felypsa]

oOc| Hehe, yes, I'm having much fun with this rp...I love the way December and Fortuné interact ^^ And I like your little "author's notes" whenever you call him a sap xP yes yes...whatever plot you have in mind, I'm sure it will be greatly enjoyable >:3[/color]

“Your savior!” December barked out a laugh, then stopped, realizing Fortuné was half-serious. “Not to be a wet blanket, but I wouldn’t count on it. My father’s blood doesn’t automatically grant me the ability to create miracles. It’s not that easy. And down here, I’m about as normal as anybody.” She shrugged, but little did she know how untrue that was. She was a far cry from “normal.”

She was about to reply to Fortuné’s warning, but a soft hoot returned December’s attention to Imi, who in the darkness of the night had become a small snowy owl. December stared at her as she hooted some more, then turned to Fortuné, a frown on her face. “Imi sees a few guards making their hourly patrols. They’ll be here in ten minutes or so. We’ve got to stop dawdling and get out of here.” Though her voice was calm, her eyes expressed the urgency she felt. “I don’t know this city very well. Do you know of a safe place we can get to, and maybe bury this man? I don’t want to take chances on the beach, that’s far too public and we’d surely be seen…Fortuné, I need you to lead the way,” she finished quietly. Imi’s hoots emphasized December’s request and urgency. Independent she may be, but she was not foolishly proud. She knew when to ask for help. And now was one of those times.[/color]

[Aveilthé]

"I highly disagree," declared Fortuné briskly. "But we
shall see in time, mmn?" He hoisted his dried up prey
onto his knee, just so he could adjust his violin's case
so it would not hit his thigh while they walk.

He took note of her urgency, hinted upon her face
and in her voice. With his hands, he lifted the stiff
carcass of the man's leathered boots to now officially
ready himself to help carry. "Ahh..." he said thoughtfully
in reply to December's crucial tone. However, his own
expression remained fathomless as he examined the
human. His ear seem to twitch a particle as the
jovial voices of human guards slow approach from
a block away at least.

"I will lead the way," was his last reply, in just a soft
whisper. Footsteps silent, he now led December and
Imi through the dark streets, the moon hardly shifting
her face onto the triad - or four, if you count the dead
man.

[Felypsa]

December and Imi followed Fortuné swiftly and silently as he led them through a labyrinth of alleyways. At first December looked around her, memorizing landmarks and street names, but eventually, every little road and alley started to look the same, so she gave up. Besides, it was getting a little inconvenient to carry the dead man in the lopsided, sharing way they were. December's arms, she felt, would strain soon. She had to carry the corpse on her own, or give it all to Fortuné and carry his violin. Realizing this, she stopped. "Wait, Fortuné." She gently laid the man's torso on the ground, indicating that they should rest for just a moment. She stretched out the muscles in her arms and legs. Presently, she felt she could go on, and she picked up the entire body herself. "From now on, I'll carry him myself," she informed Fortuné. "You just worry about your violin and finding our way." She nodded firmly, hoisting the dead man up into a slightly more comfortable position, then waiting for Fortuné to resume. They had long since left behind the sentries, but December wasn't taking any chances. She would finish what she started.[/color]

[Aveilthé]

Fortuné nodded in assent. It wasn't that he was
complaining much; though he was quite a robust fellow,
it would have certainly been easier to lead the way
and let December carry. At certain intervals, however,
he made modest gestures as if he could still help,
or simply turn his head to make sure December had
everything.

At just moments later, Fortuné swerved around a dark
corner, and approached a dark alley way. A three-story
house can be seen, though it looked incredibly old,
dank, and was full of boarded-up windows.
It looked very European. "Over here,"
he whispered, only loud enough for the girl and her
shape-shifting friend to hear.

"This is a broken-down
house, that nobody uses. For many years people have
talked about tearing it down, but it was never
accomplished. Thus... it rots, and is completely ignored.
I have a certain fondness for it; it looks antique.
I've only been here for a few
times, but I do not call it my home. Trust me, tis a
safe place. At least we'd have shelter in case of rain -
and as for our ill-fated friend here..." He pointed sadly
at his dried-up prey. "There is a pit. Also a sewer
nearby, but I do not suggest we toss the poor fellow
in there."

[Felypsa]

December appreciated Fortuné’s concern, but she managed to carry the dead man all the way until they reached their destination. As she beheld it, she breathed, “Oh, this is perfect. It’s…beautiful…” The building was anything but, but December was looking at it as it must have been in its prime, a fresh new house with elegant design and a lofty height. She could also see its usefulness in a situation like this. From then on, that house held her particular affection, and though, like Fortuné, she would not call it “home,” it certainly had her favor.

She nodded. “The pit, of course. A sewer is far too degrading and insulting, and besides, he might be discovered there eventually.” She turned towards the house, eager to release her burden at last. Once the old man was properly buried, she would be able to think more clearly—that is, to figure out what in Heaven she was going to do with an emotional vampire. Up till now she’d had a plan: and now, she would need for formulate a new one.

December beckoned to Imi, who was scouting the skies in her owl form. The bird came swooping down and reported that all was clear. December breathed at last, relieved that they were able to escape without anyone noticing. Unless someone happened to spot a few blood spots Fortuné had missed in the alleyway, there would be no suspicion. That is, until the man’s family and friends discovered something was wrong…

December shook her head to clear it of such thoughts; they only weighed her down. “Let’s go in,” she said to Fortuné. “This man deserved his burial long ago. Quickly, now.” She started to enter the building, again admiring what had once been fine and excellent architecture.[/color]

[Aveilthé]

Emotional vampire indeed, for the mild Fortuné was not
like most of the fiendish vampire breed. Well, not as
much, anyway.

This time, since they went about slower, Fortuné helped
with December's burden. He carried the human's legs,
and with no difficulty at all, heaved delicately through
a cracked and filthy window from the side of the house.
"Ahh, this'll do nicely," he muttered happily, looking
about the place.

Highly detailed paintings covered the walls, yet the
ceiling was thick in cobwebs and vieled some of the
pictures. Many ancient furniture were layed about,
dusted, half of them covered in off-white sheets
to preserve them.

"This is the first floor, obviously, December. See the
paintings?" He pointed excitedly like a young boy
at them all, "Look at this one, this reminds me of you!"
And indeed, he pointed to a painting depicting a
beautiful woman wearing a silky white dress, though it
looked slightly torn and a bit chipped due to the aging
paint. She had fair skin, though one would be surer
that her skin would have been much fairer in the
painting's younger years; her eyes were closed and
she was facing the left. Resting upon her shoulders
were two intricately fluffy cherubic wings. The maiden's
head was tilted slightly away from the painting, as
if the angel was lost in her dreams.

"And that pit I have mentioned earlier, resides beneath
this house. The basement." With that, he ambled
towards a nearby wooden stool that was incredibly
dusty, undid his violin case from his belt, and rested
it upon the seat. He then moseyed towards a
particular corner, near the long dining table. Just
a few feet away lay a carpet. With his foot, he kicked
the thick, dusty carpet away, to reveal a door embedded
on the ground. With his good, strong hands, he lifted
the door upward.

"Down here," said he, grinning.

[Relairah]

As all of this had gone on, from Fortuné first seeing the
girl, December, and he amazing her with his violinist's
charms. From he transforming into the beast, as some
would call it, that murdered for his own surivival... pity
to the victim... but a creature who so seemingly hated
the fact he had to do so to live. And now to Fortuné
and December, taking the body away instead of leaving
it out to rot in the open, they were perhaps unknowing
of another.

A young girl, in fact quite young, of only age thirteen,
had been watching them a while. She lived about the
city, yet wasn't too liked, which would be expected from
a girl like she was. She stole from the merchants to
obtain survival, and enjoyed it all the more when they
would try and catch her angrily, yet fail each time with
all her tricks she managed to have up her sleeve. She
knew the Market like the back of her hand, and loved
maneuvering her way about getting what she would.
Unlike Fortuné and December, she had nothing but
human blood flowing through her veins, or so she
thought. She had a slender build yet muscles strong
from her years of 'playing' about the city. She had
brunette hair, thick and of medium length that she wore
down at this time. Her skin was tanned by the sun, and
she wore a torn, white, sleeveless shirt, and a short,
tan skirt, with no shoes. Two thin, black bands were
worn one about each upper-arm. Her eyes were a
bright orange, and this was the one abnormality which
had often made her question whether she was truly a
human... or not.

She had been simply lying back to herself for a bit,
when Fortuné and December had caught her attention,
or rather she noticed a seemingly crazed young man
running through the crowd of the Market, and soon a
young woman seemingly trying to keep up with him.
She'd tossed away a grapefruit she'd been snacking on
and raised a brow in curiosity. She'd slipped from the
tree where she'd been in and silently followed. She had
rather cat-like movement, and slipped easily past
anyone that might recognize her. She had stopped in
the alley to which Fortuné had stopped, but she had
gotten there about the time December was speaking of
how she would simply kill him right then.

She had remained silent, watching from the shadows
where she was hidden, holding back her breath,
breathing as silently as she could manage, hoping she
wouldn't be noticed. Eyes widened slightly as she
listened to the conversation of the two others, and she
realized she'd been gripping the hilt to her right dagger
this whole time. She released the dagger's hilt, yet
continued to wait where she was, listening to them. At
last, they had decided to move elsewhere, care for the
body. She had waited a moment, before silently
following, keeping her distance, making sure she
always would have places to hide in in case either of
the two she was following became suspiscious of
someone besides themselves. She hadn't really been
paying attention to Imi and all of her transformations
from one winged creature to the next, thus thought
little of the bird. Besides, the information she'd learned,
she found quite interesting.

She followed them all the way to the old house to
which they entered, listening the whole time, or as best
she could. She watched the house a moment,
contemplating then glanced about herself as if to make
sure no one else were around. She stayed outside,
leaning her back against the wall of the house beside
the window through which the other two had entered.
She listened as Fortuné spoke to December of all the
paintings and such, and then spoke of the basement.
She grinned slightly, her bright orange eyes glimmering
with curiosity. She waited silently, waiting for the right
moment to enter into the house the way they had,
waiting to she herself slip down into the basement and
see what the other two would do with the body they
were seeking to care for.

[Felypsa]

December suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as Fortuné likened the marvelous painting to her, but she nevertheless greatly admired the painting itself. It did not remind her of herself, however, for the wings looked ridiculous and the girl seemed like she would fall over at the mere suggestion of a sword. She also seemed far too sanctimonious for her own good. But December could not deny the painter’s skill nor the painting’s own, if faded, beauty. The other paintings were excellent as well, and December detected the same style in all of them, making her wonder if they were all by the same artist. If they were, was it possible that this house had once been home to such a talented artist? Anything was possible…

Imi landed on her shoulder, in the form of a bat, and December jerked herself out of her reverie. She followed Fortuné down the stairs, normal as usual, but she kept an alert. Imi had warned her that she caught “sight” of someone following them, watching them. It was probably not a guard, for there was only one, and Imi seemed to think it was small in stature, judging from the sketchy picture her echolocation gave her. But December trusted Imi’s senses, so she became wary. She said nothing to Fortuné, however, for he seemed to be in a jovial mood, and it was better he stayed that way.

They went down the basement, where there was indeed a pit. December sighed, looking at the old dead man with regret. “This is where we part,” she murmured, “though you parted from us already.” She raised her eyes to the heavens, praying silently, asking those better suited than she to make sure his spirit found its way where it was supposed to. Then she looked at Fortuné, ready to heave the corpse into the pit.[/color]

[Aveilthé]

Fortuné galloped down the stairs with ease. It was
obvious with his show of recklessness of running without
hesitating down the stairs, that he had been down
there before.

For a moment, the vampire was hidden in
darkness, save for the bit of light issuing from above -
the door was still open, of course. There was a shuffling
sound, and then a soft whine, and a sound that was
like a fingernail scraping a rough stone. A candle was
kindled. Fortuné stood holding the base, like a tea cup
with a small white-wax candle inside. Solid white
bubbles were bunched together at the base; they were
excess of wax. His pale visage seem to glow as he
held the candle a foot away from his face, almost like
a modern flashlight.

He then set it delicately upon a wooden table. The table
was softly illuminated by the candle's light. Humming
a little tune, Fortuné turned towards the carcass.
He said nothing, but his eye twitched towards
December as she said her prayer of respect. He
stopped humming.

"I'm not worthy to declare reverent ecclesiastical
words that are holy." He looked away from her
with misery. He'd then step over to the carcass, of which
it was settled near the gaping pit of darkness.
Bending down, Fortuné gently pushed the fellow,
almost rolling the dead body until it was successfully
in the pit - however, there came no sound of a body
hitting the ground. Odd.