Fool's Adventures: A Demon's Souls/Buffy the Vampire Slayer Quest

[BungieONI]

Thanks to @Lazy Minx, one of her artist friends has blessed us with this wooooonderful picture. It is now going to go on the character sheet, and will become my new desktop background.

 

[BungieONI]

Episode 7, Part 2
"The Squire has a Task"​

You leave the Sanctum, the Fog Gate slipping around you and obscuring Latria as you descend the stairs with quiet steps. It is likely she will spend her time examining the Glove again. Without you there however, you don't expect her to try to activate it.

A part of you is also intellectually curious about the Glove, and has been for some time pondering suggestions you could raise to your Lady. The only stumbling block is… well.

Why would I need to suggest anything?

And while there are layers to that thought, one of them is definitely not apprehension about actually voicing a suggestion. You are certain she would let you propose them at the right time. But, you are concerned it might be just a waste of her time because she knows this topic far better than you do.

Standing in the doorway to the master bedroom which you had been using, albeit rarely, you take stock.

In front of you is the king size bed, bundled with various blankets and sheets which you tended to wrap yourself up in unconsciously when you slept. To the right, by the head of the bed, is your dresser where you have stuck your clothes and feminine products. Resting on top of the dresser is your Remington, its ammo, and your stake. To your left and further in is a bank of curtained windows. You know which one Latria came through to enter this place a month ago. One of those little things caused by your sight.

You won't need the blankets and sheets. When you explored the Manor you had found the other two rooms on the fourth floor well furnished. Ignoring them you step over and pick up your stake, which you stick in your pants. Seated at the small of your back it should be in easy reach. Adjusting your shirt to cover it, you sling the Remington over your shoulders crosswise with one hand as you use the other to pop the drawer.

The contents of said drawer are swiftly in your arms, and with a quick pluck of a hand as you leave the room, the ammo is set on top. You head across the balcony and then up the stairs to the fourth floor. The Fog Gate is quietly babbling nonsense when you pass it.

Finding one of the smaller rooms you pop the door and slip in. The room is moderately furnished with a queen size bed and a dresser and wardrobe. Cracking that wardrobe open gently with a finger, you then put your stuff onto its bottom shelf. Need to remember to hang those up… You think absently as you move over to lay the Remington on top of the dresser in a patch of moonlight from the window.

With those in their place you slip out and head back down the stairs. Pausing at the Sanctum landing you look into the Gate. Fog and the many things which inhabit it, reflections of your Lady, greet you. They twirl and dance in glee. Some of them are even laughing, like she did.

Stifling a giggle of your own you slip down the stairs to the second floor and then keep going, not attempting to silence your steps as you descend to the first floor. Angel is still seated at the dinner table and he looks up at you as you round the bottom of the stairs. You lean on the bannister.

"Bedroom on the second floor is all set if you want to use it." Your amusement makes you smirk as you say this.

"Ah... you didn't…" He starts to say, then he catches your pointed look and just falls silent. You look him over as he stands. He cuts a fine picture of masculinity, though the blood is not a good garnish. It's a pity really, if he wasn't dead you might actually be interested in him. Those thoughts cause your eyes to narrow as you remember how he looked at your Lady.

Message delivered you turn and head up the stairs. You hear him quickly follow you. When you are halfway to the Sanctum landing he calls out.

"Annie! Thanks for helping me out." His expression is happy when you look back, and surprisingly, somewhat hopeful.

Leaning over the railing you quirk an eyebrow at him.

"You're welcome Angel," you say, then you continue. "But… hmm. A bit of advice."

His expression is questioning.

"What's up?" He asks lightly. Hmm, how to say this...

"Don't try to lead us on with false pretenses again. Latria, especially." Your tone is a rebuke as you straighten up and disappear through the Fog Gate.

While Latria has her own feelings, I also have mine.

And really Angel, you should be food for her after this little debacle.

***​

Your hands delicately drift over the Glove, a hum in your throat and a bubbly murmur in your head.

As it always is, the Soul provide answers. An old thought from a time before you existed, handed down from one sorcerer to another. And here it is true. Winding Soul energies, twisted within yourself, with the reservoirs and frame of the Glove will give you more control over it. And so like an overly large spider you weave threads and patches of Soul-stuff into the Glove.

It is a meditative action, a concept you have had since you were made. Though, what you consider meditation is probably far too greedy and contemplative of violence for most mortal humans.

Your twisting thoughts are interrupted by a voice, gruff from recent disuse. Annie.

"My Lady. The sun has set, and Angel should be awake." She sounds anticipatory. Looking up from the Glove you look at her, head tilted.

"Hmm… get ready then." She is already rising to fulfill your command before you finish speaking. Your hands had finished the change you were making while you spoke. Looking it over you find it in good order. Soon it will be ready…

And then your plan will be set in motion.

The circle shudders and the Fog light seeps away and with a rustle of cloth you rise and pull on the seeming. Your book is hung at your hip on its little hook and the scroll stuck through your belt on the other side. The Fog Gate slips around you like a soft cloud. Angel is below you, you can hear him in the foyer.

Annie has already emerged from her room, her outfit changed by the inclusion of leather gloves with hard knuckles and a jacket, over which she has slung the Remington. The both of you walk down the stairs.

"So, what is your decision Angel?" You ask as you come into view, drifting along the balcony railing and descending to the foyer with Annie on your heels.

"Well, I'll take it." He responds with a smirk.

"Excellent. Well then, please share with us what you have planned." You say as you round the bottom of the steps, your false body language elegant and welcoming. There's a tension between him and Annie that you note. Both of them seem wary of the other.

Setting that aside for later you drift over to stand before him as he looks between the both of you. He lets out a breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking.

"At this point we're going to need to find Darla. She'll know I'm not dead, again, and likely try to get at Buffy and her friends again as a lure for me." He says, then sighs. His resolve is weaker than yesterday, you note, which makes parts of you writhe in consideration behind your blank mask.

"I can track her down and then we can make sure she doesn't cause any more harm." His voice is carrying a veneer of false confidence, which you judge would fool most people besides who he's speaking too.

"Before that happens, we're going to need some stuff from my place." He says, grimacing slightly as he looks down at himself. You hum in thought and exchange a glance with Annie. It's a good and simple plan, though it is limited because it doesn't include any provisions for making back up with his current infatuation.

You raise an eyebrow at Annie. She turns to Angel.

"What about making up with your stabby girlfriend?" She says pleasantly. Not what I had in mind, but it will do. It certainly amuses you, after a fashion.

Angel coughs in surprise. "Buffy… I need to talk to by myself." He says as he rubs the back of his head with a hand. Then he sighs. "I'm kinda hazardous goods when it comes to her right now."

Annie and you hum in sync, then you nod. "Fine."

She then breaks your little group with a tiny wave and some words thrown over her shoulder. "I'll start the car then."

You both look after her, then follow.

The grass of your yard is soft on your feet and cool.

You hear the car start with a purr-rumble. The gate is already open and with a wave of your hand you close it behind yourself and Angel, resetting the wards in a flutter of Fog energy that then fades away.

Clunk. Angel has gotten into the back seat of the car as you worked. You in turn slip around to the passenger side, Annie opening the door for you as you round the front of the car. Once you are seated, she pulls away from the sidewalk and with a flash the lights on the car illuminate the roadway.

You recline in your seat, watching the night air around you for traces of vampires. Annie looks into the rear view mirror. "Where to Angel?" She asks as she looks at where he would be in the mirror.

"Head to the warehouse district with the Bronze, I'll point out where you need to go after that." He responds quietly. The car accelerates in response and you begin to weave your way through the streets.

The Hellmouth is nearly silent today. Why? That question takes your focus and most of your attention drifts away from the inside of the car. If there's a problem you expect Annie to be able to deal with it.

It is not satiated or quiescent. Distant is a good description. And you have no idea as to why. Perhaps it is another random point in the pattern. That there is no magic attached to it is a strong point in favor.

"So, Angel, a question from a curious girl." Annie's voice slides through the car, and a part of you pays attention while the rest watches for strange energies.

"Yeah? Alright, go ahead." Angel says magnanimously.

"What do you think of her?" She asks, seeming innocently curious, but you know she's leading up to something.

Angel breathes out a hum of consideration. Then he laughs slightly.

"She's a work of art in a way. Very much a cheerleader." He says, the unfamiliar term 'cheerleader' making you listen more attentively. "Funny, smart, and fun… she's also extremely capable in a fight. Loyal to her friends." The quaint listing makes your attention turn away.

You are now somewhere deep in a grouping of taller buildings. A mix of stores and what might be offices for scribes or other workers. You are not interested in those however, and your gaze drifts upward to the moon, currently a grinning crescent. Your second. It looks strange while filtered through the magic of the Hellmouth. Faded and out of place. As you wonder what magic might be attached to it, Annie responds.

"So, what will you do when she rejects your attempt at making up?" Her voice is blunt, but understanding.

Angel sighs again, this one ragged. "I don't think she will if I try. But if she did I'd have to keep trying. There's not much else for me to do…" His voice is pained, and also tinged with anger.

"Hmm, knowing how it feels to be a betrayed teenager, you've got your work cut out for you. Honestly if I was you, I'd try and talk to Willow." She says, her voice serious. Then she glances back.

"We're almost at the warehouse district. Point the way?" She asks, the heavy topic forgotten. You look forward again, straightening in your seat. A little hum starts in the back of your head and you find one of your fingers tapping along to it.

"You'll want the first right after the tracks." Angel says, tone reserved. You glance back at him.

"Say Angel, would Darla have tried to worm her way into your home?" You ask.

He looks at you, expression thoughtful.

"It's definitely possible." He says, then frowns.

"Go left, and keep your eyes out." His voice is focused now.

All of you spend more of your attention on watching the shadows as Angel quietly directs you to his home. A few minutes later, you stop the car in a darkened lot. The shadows are empty and the night quiet. But, there is vampire scent on the wind and a faded disturbance in the air.

"Hmm, looks clear. Follow me." Angel says, getting out and striding purposefully into the darkness, where he quickly blends in. You and Annie follow, the car falling silent behind you.

Angel leads you into a silent building and down a short half flight of stairs, into a maintenance corridor of sorts. The smell of multiple vampires is thick down here, but old. Angel approaches his door cautiously and leans up on the wall beside it. You and Annie stack up on the other side. Angel looks across at you both, then grabs the door and gently pushes it open.

The silence stays undisturbed, as you all likely expected.

Nothing is lurking in his lair.

Angel slips inside, his steps graceful and lithe, and you follow. Hmm? You look around at the room, full of various odds and ends, some of them tumbled on the floor. Knocked out of place.

The left wall is covered in pictures, illuminated by a lamp behind a tall folding screen. A dresser or cabinet has a variety of books on it, piled on their sides in no particular order, with some on the floor. To your right is a desk with an old lamp on it, currently knocked over and off. The desk seems mostly unmolested otherwise and has a few papers strewn about on it. A faded chair is pushed in behind it. Across from you is a statue in a glass case, seated on a table. A religious icon perhaps?

Annie moves to follow you as you explore, glancing at parts of the room and then focusing on the archway which Angel disappeared through, and from which rustling sounds are emerging. There's something here, a scent in the air you are familiar with. You drift past his desk to look behind his chair at the corner of the room. And there it is, a small pile of dust. You kneel beside it, running your hand through it. It fades and disperses as you touch it, the energy lingering on it weak and young, though you aren't completely sure.

"A vamp got dusted here?" Annie asks you. You nod.

"Angel, it seems you have a corpse, of sorts, on your hands." Your voice is serious but calm.

"Coming!" Angel responds from the other room, and his footsteps follow that statement.

Aside from the dead remains here, you can smell Darla as well. You look around, and find subtle claw marks and other bits of concrete dust lying about. A fight between superior and minion then. Though you obviously can't be sure.

Angel emerges from the other room, clothed in a white shirt and another jacket, though the cut is different on this one and comes down to his mid thighs. He looks at where you are kneeling and comprehension lights up his face.

"Vampire?" He asks, to be sure. You nod, and rise as you dust off your hands.

"It looks like Darla got into a fight with one of her minions. Is anything missing?" You ask him, head tilted left.

He shakes his head. "No, not that I can see immediately, but we need to hurry."

You can see over his shoulder that he is carrying a small bag, with long and pointy shapes in it. Stakes most likely.

"Let's go, I've got what I need." He says, tilting his head as he leads you both out.

Now, you just have to decide how you and Annie want to approach the likely coming fights.


How does the Idol execute her role in this plan?

[] Softly and by making opportune moments, a more subtle option, though one that concedes some initiative to the enemy to find the right times to act.

[] Loudly and slinging spells from the get go, a more obvious option, though one that attracts more of her enemy's focus.

---

And there we go! Stuff is picking up now.

Here's the music I listened to while writing this up.

Vote lock on October 1st, 6:00 pm UTC.

 

[BungieONI]

Episode 7, Part 3
"Dark Red Tabards"​

Up the stairs and out into the night, where all the shadows seem deeper than before, Annie swallowed up in them beside you, you follow Angel's broad back. High above the moon is hidden behind dark clouds. Ah…

Look away. Not tonight.

Turning away from the memories of nights long ago, you step alongside Angel as he heads to the car, a swing to your step. He looks askance at you, expression growing puzzled as he looks at your face. But before he can speak, you reach the car and slide inside. Annie slowly slips into the driver seat herself, fiddling with the wires in the column. But, she is distracted by something, though you can't figure out by what before the car purrs to life and Angel has sequestered himself.

Then you are off and the rhythmic passage of the lights fills the inside of the car, pulling you up and out of the strange feelings of the night. Behind you, you hear the window slide down with a whirr. It's Angel, wearing his demonic face, taking in the scents on the night air.

"Head towards the central cemetery." His voice is a deep, throaty growl.

"She wouldn't sleep there would she? Seems too close to the Slayer..." Annie's voice is a whisper, her eyes flicking between the road and something else.

Hmmm? What troubles you Annie?

"Yeah, most likely. But she would like to lurk around the place." Angel responds.

You look at your companion, only faintly aware of her conversation. The rolling magic in the sky and the ground was something you checked first when you noticed something amiss with her expression, and you found nothing which differed from the last time you looked. But, now you look again, the physical world losing your attention. And you see, through the cup of her Soul, nothing amiss.

How odd.

It leaves you wary and without any recourse except to watch.

The silence between you all is comfortable, uninterrupted since Annie knows the way, and you close your eyes to listen to the wind outside. It inspires no thoughts or feelings, though oddly you feel like it should, as you taste the air for scents. The flowery scent you are looking for is not present. In fact there is little trace of vampires at all, except for Angel.

A consequence of this place being so populous. As contrast to that thought, the scenery around you is houses familiar to you from your wandering. One after the other in neat lines. And the town around you is quiet and peaceful. When you look, there in the distance you can see a man walking through his yard as he returns home. There you can see a person in their window, backlit by a light as he works on something. Over there you can see a woman reading on her porch. You stifle the growl before it rises through your throat. Later. The eating comes later.

It feels right to think like this. Different from before, but still producing the same results.

Annie turns left, and there is the cemetery laid out before you at the end of the street, dark iron fencing and ivy crouched in the night. Looming over a T-intersection. There are few lights on here, you note, and the moon and starlight reveals the glints of shattered glass beneath the street lights. Vandalism. Your attention is grabbed.

You can feel your accompaniment also tensing now that you are close to your objective. Annie's eyes are scanning across the shadows as she taps out a subtle rhythm on the wheel. Angel's breathing is slower and you can hear his jacket creak as he leans forward, a hand and knee appearing in your peripheral vision.

Annie slows the car and turns onto the right branch of the T-intersection, traveling along the wall. "Stop at the gate Annie." You say, using a false tone of patient calm, covering your calculating thoughts. But, it does take most of your control to not tap your fingers to match Annie's rhythm and ruin the image. Never before, has the hunt, done this to me.

You can feel a part of yourself pushing against the seeming, your arms wanting to be free, as the car stops. Then you eat that urge and are out of the car and rounding the front in but a moment, dress rippling and ornaments clinking. The gate in front of you hangs beneath a tall arch, which reads Sunnydale Cemetery in rolling iron script. Run between the bars of the single gate and the fencing is a shining steel chain and a thick padlock.

Wrapping a hand around the lock's bar you give a hum of effort and then, Zhew-poomf! Sizzle. The bar and top of the lock is reduced to molten flakes and the chain falls to the ground with a clang. A firm push forces the gate open, creaking on its hinges. You look back and see Angel staring at you from the window as Annie turns the car to pass through the gate.

You make a short beckoning gesture and walk in, faint white mist clinging around your feet. The dirt and grass here beside the gravel path is soft and cool, caressing your toes. Vampire traces and grave rot linger in the air, lingering under the air full of smells of stone dust, grass and people.

You don't smell Darla.

Yet, at least. The scrunch of the car stopping on the gravel and the doors opening, then slamming shut behind you announces your accompaniment following you. Angel steps up to your right, his face normal now as he stares into the shadows. You look at him.

"Do you smell her yet?" Your voice is quiet and full of imitated curiosity. You don't expect him to. He shakes his head and rolls his shoulders.

"Not yet, but there's a crypt I know." He responds, taking the lead as he gestures to his right and deeper into the cemetery, his shoes leaving little scuffs and divots in the dirt while yours leave almost nothing.

"Is it the one leading to one of their places of gathering?" You ask him, raising an eyebrow at your course, which is not heading deeper in towards the center, instead heading north and west. He hums in surprise, steps slowing for a moment. Then he shakes his head and responds.

"No. How do.. Ah, Buffy. Right." He shakes his head, then continues. "This is a different place where I smelled her before, recently. I think it goes below as well, but I haven't found the way down." Here, he smirks. "I was ah… interrupted, by some cronies." His voice sounds satisfied as he gets an aggressive glint in his eye. Then he cants a shoulder in a half-shrug.

"I think she might have returned there after going to my place." He sounds sure. You are willing to wait on this.

The Master is really not giving me the attention I think he should, after all. The thought makes a smile flicker across your lips, there and gone again. Slipping between two towering oaks whose canopies are reaching for each other, twinning together and rustling in the slight wind, the crypt is revealed to you in a clearing where there lingers a faint flowery scent. Darla.

The crypt is a low, temple like structure. In the front is a short step of stone rising up to a raised porch of white stone, with fluted columns extending up to and supporting a short overhanging roof, three to a side. It looks odd on a structure which is only the size of a well made cottage. You remember more grandiose things on your own church, of a kind. The door is solid metal, thin bands and rivets patterning the surface, with a prison like window grate full of dark glass set near the top. Annie is looking at that door, her expression thoughtful and almost trance like as she holds the Remington in front of her, a strap going over her shoulders.

"Hmm. That's new." Angel mutters as he approaches the door. You hear a rough intake of breath as he sniffs the air. You also smell it. There is likely something here, but the scent you hunt is old. Darla hasn't been here in a handful of hours. Angel looks over his shoulder, tossing his head at the door with a questioning eyebrow raised. You and Annie exchange a glance, before her eyes flick over the weapon once, and then she raises it to what you think is a ready position.

"What's your preference, loud, or quiet?" He whispers to you, face impassive. You raise a hand filled with Soul and a finger to your lips. He nods and slides out of your way, settling on your right as you step up to examine the door. Annie is standing behind you both on the stair, turned outward to watch the clearing. The door handle is a stiff C of dark cast iron, bolted to the door. The lock is also built into the door.

Simple. This is acceptable. You lay your left hand over the lock and proceed to fill it with Soul. The heat is not an issue for you as it clinks, then cracks, and then falls down the outside in a hot liquid stream with a pitter-patter and sizzling-splat at your feet. Wrapping a hand around the handle you gently pull the door open, watching for traps or an ambush. The hinges are fortunately silent as they turn.

The room that is revealed is a mostly bare stone cube. There is no central sarcophagus, instead the left wall is patterned with a series of large rectangular plaques or name plates. Cremation? You wonder briefly, before letting Angel pass into the room, eating the curious interest, and then following the vampire.

You faintly smell an old layer of Angel's scent, pressed into the stone and quickly overridden by his fresh presence. The floor is exceptionally smooth, polished in fact. Hmm. Annie steps in, her boots quiet on the stone. The three of you stand, loosely maintaining your formation as you all look it over before exchanging glances.

Annie has an impassive expression, body angled toward the door and weapon pointed in its general direction. Angel is contemplative, but also tense, feet shifting in little movements. You are outwardly calm, but inwardly highly aware of your surroundings as you raise an eyebrow at Angel then look around in silence. Angel makes a questioning gesture at Annie to watch the door, which you both easily accept. Then he turns to you. You just tilt your head at the right wall and he nods.

As expected, nothing stands out physically aside from the floor. You cannot sense any vampire energies between Angel and the stone. So, you simply pace in silence along the right side of the room as Angel looks over the back, feeling along the wall.

Running your hand along the wall you are looking for changes in texture or air flowing past your sensitive fingers. While the Tower was not particularly filled with secret passages, you know stone as a part of yourself, so you have an idea of what to feel for. You are also looking for scuff marks or other oddities on the polished floor, strange reflections and the like.

Your hand passes easily over the wall and your magical abilities feel nothing. And you see nothing near eye level. Glancing around you find both of your companions calm in the silence, Annie more so than Angel. Who seems to have paused, his shoulders bunching up with tension. He's noticed something. Leaning on the back wall, right hand pressed on it as he looks to his right. His eyes are unfocused as he seems to think something over.

His curious behavior makes you look around, checking for possible traps as you break away from your wall and slide closer to him. You can tell Annie is perking up with eagerness and some nebulous concern from a glance as you lean close to him. You direct a "questioning" expression smoothed by an imitation of seriousness at him. He looks between you and the wall for a moment, then nods, hands removed as he slowly crouches and considers the base of it.

You smile slightly, then return to looking for any hidden dangers as you stand beside him. You don't see any, nor do you feel any with magic which seems… odd. On the other side? You wonder. A shifting rustle of cloth has you looking over your shoulder to meet Annie's look, distraction mixed with concern. Raising a finger to your lips you gesture for her to move away from standing directly in front of the open door.

Eyes widening she slowly moves aside with an almost inaudible scrape as you turn back to watching Angel. His flickering glances are concerned but also extremely engaged and focused. He has one hand slowly moving along the corner where the wall meets the floor while the other one rests on a knee.

Twitch. He lets out a breath, while you ready your spells. Found it. He looks up at you and gives a smirk. He waves a hand at you to give him some more space, to which you comply. To a point. The end of your finger is twitching subtly. Then before something in you can change the hidden door slides open with a crunch and a puff of stone dust to reveal a stairwell spiralling down. Out of which wafts a fresh vampire scent and the faint sound of muttering.

Both you and the vampire slowly rising beside you lean around the door frame to see, mounted to the wall, a shoddily loaded crossbow trap pointed at chest level which has failed to trigger. Grimacing in disgust Angel slowly walks forward, eyeing the shadows for other traps, before gingerly reaching forward and plucking the bolt from its seat.

Pocketing the ammunition in his coat, he descends in a skulk. It takes a moment of effort for you to follow after him instead of leading the way. But you do, and your facade is intact as all three of you descend the stair, Annie just to your right and Angel crouch walking down the stairs ever so carefully.

The muttering resolves into discernable speech.

"... and now with that cooled we'll begin to slice it for serving." In a strange, tinny, masculine voice. Head tilted left as you listen, you also catch the feeling of a vampire's presence. A very weak one too. Not Darla, you know immediately. She feels different. Angel has slowed even further, sliding forward one step at a time, ever so slowly. Over his shoulder and below you can see a flickering light and hear the… cooking conversation? Mixed with sounds of enjoyment from a small crowd whose presences don't exist.
"As you can see folks, my taste testers have been rendered speechless by the spinach bake. Another success! See you next time on Jim's Gourmet Show!" Says the jovial, tinny voice. You are… very very annoyed. Thoughts turning vicious, you slide up behind Angel and glare over his shoulder, into the room below. You see some kind of device on which a little man is moving about a kitchen filled with several other people as text scrolls across the screen. You feel no presence or Soul from whatever this thing is. A human device. Annoying Trickery. Your feelings peak higher, and you are forced to stifle a grinding keen.

And just over to the right you see the booted feat of someone sitting in a chair. Angel looks over his shoulder, then gestures between you and the feet, then between himself and the feet. You get the general idea, leaning slightly over him as you throw the Soul Arrow. Zhew! It zips across the intervening space as a white blur which then explodes as it hits the vampire's legs, burning them severely and topping the chair with a clatter!

"Aaaghhhh!? Who the-!?" A sharp and whimpering voice shouts as Angel becomes a blur of his own and slams into the injured vampire as it tries to stand. There is a tussle and sharp smacks of flesh hitting flesh and flesh hitting stone as you descend the stairs, Annie still lingering right behind you, her weapon's barrel occasionally brushing your arm as it points forward at the possible threat.

Coming into view, you see Angel holding a very scruffy vampire down, pinned face first to the floor. The pinned creature's limbs are un-muscled and pathetic, along with its struggles. Its head is turned the wrong way to see you

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck no no oh no not you man!" His voice is simpering and blubbering, drowning out the song playing from the device as he desperately tries to see over his shoulder to stare at Angel. Giving a casual flick-Zhew you make the device stop, the face bored out by a Soul Arrow in a shower of sparks and charred mechanical guts. Angel looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You shrug.

"I detest your nation's cooking shows and…" You say while mincing closer on careful steps, the blubbering having stopped abruptly, "... it is a distraction while we talk, isn't it, pathetic strigoi?" You say as you lean into view of the frozen stiff vampire, your accent thick and syrupy.

"Oh f-fuck…" It gabbles out in a tiny voice. You smile and clasp your hands.

"Ah! I see I'm becoming famous amongst the strigoi. How delightful!" You say as you imitate a fancy lesser noblewoman you fed to the Tower gargoyles once. You feel Annie step around you, her bootsteps ominously thudding without effort on her part in the oppressive silence following your statement. The vampire is in tears as its eyes flick between you and Angel, over and over and over in a little amusing back and forth jitter, its mouth moving in a breathless litany of invective.

"So, Angel do you want to ask the questions or should I?" You say as you take up a disinterested posture by the thing's head, fist resting easily against your chin. Angel hums in thought for a moment then looks at the thing trapped beneath him.

"I got it." He says with a hint of joy in his voice.

Grabbing the hair of the thing, twisting its neck part way around so he can stare at it more clearly, he grins. "So, how long you been here buddy?" His tone is jovial and consoling. The likely much younger vampire blubbers and babbles nonsense, then Angel gives him a violent shake, the impact with the floor knocking sense into it.

"Gahggaaaaaaaaaa! Not long! Oh fuck fuck not long not long at all, just a bit while the oh gods the Boss. The Boss! Fuck aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" It is really making very little sense, reduced to screaming in a puddle of its tears as it mumbles about the "Boss" over and over. Darla, most likely.

"Hey!" Angel grabs the vampire by the scruff and shakes it like a whimpering animal, then drops it. "This 'Boss' of yours go by the name 'Darla'?" He asks, a sliver of annoyance wrapped in happy cheer slipping into his voice. The vampire responds with a screech of mortal terror at the name, gibbering out a litany of, "No no no…!" And you are no longer paying attention because something just changed with Annie.

Ka-chunk.

"Lies." Her voice is a trance like hiss full of pure malice as the weapon falls to point at the thing's head.

BANG! Splat.

The vampire lets out a final Skree! as its head explodes into meat from the point blank blast, collapsing into dust beneath Angel.

"The hell?!" Angel snarls as he looks at Annie, then is stopped cold by her rapturous, knowing expression. Her eyes seem to stare straight through his skull and pin him in place.

"I can See. Your lover is in danger. Our prey has resorted to cowardly trickery." Her decree is a ironclad fist to the temple, her voice rumbling with power. Then she is gone, dashing up the stairs in a thud-thud-thud of sprinting footsteps.

"The fuck?" Angel says as he crouches amidst the dust, completely flabbergasted. You reach down and haul him up by the shoulder, staring into his face with imitated urgency.

"Angel, Annie has the Sight. We need to follow her." Your urgency is not entirely feigned now, the eagerness of the hunt forcing its way out into your voice. He blinks at the mention of 'Sight', then a kind of fragile revelation lights up his face and he is dashing past you, a blur whose passage ruffles your hair and dress. Then you too shoot up the stair, all pretense of stealth except for your seeming discarded for speed.

Annie is out the crypt door and clattering down the steps with you and Angel hot on her heels. Then Angel shoots past with his unnatural speed, leaving you running beside your companion. Her eyes are locked straight ahead, totally focused on something invisible while her body guides itself automatically.

The magic in the cup of her Soul is swelling, without end, and you can feel intermittent flashes of Darla's own presence leaking out from her. Ahead, you hear the car start, though you can't see it for the mausoleums and trees. That leaves you to looking at the Hellmouth as you run, and it is agitated as well. Beating and thrumming like a struck note. It occurs to you that "saving" the Slayer like this is a bit strange considering your priorities, but then that part of your mind is eaten by another part which holds that using her to defeat the Master is a far better use of your time.

Temporary resurgence of stupidity averted and consumed you round the corner of a statue and see Angel climbing into the back of the car, having left the front doors open. Annie almost leaps into the front seat and her foot is coming down on the pedals as you flow inside and pull your door closed. Annie leaves her door open, and it flops closed thanks to the wild turn she starts and a pull from your magic. The car careens through the turn with a squealing vrooom! And then you are blasting out of the gate to land with a crunch-thud in the intersection before lurching to the left and accelerating rapidly down the street, the force shoving you into your seat slightly.

Angel is leaning forward between the seats, eyes flicking between you both, one hand grabbing your head rest to support himself. Annie maintains her trance-like focus on something in the distance. Looking back at him you speak, eyes locked with his.

"Annie is going to take us…" You don't miss a syllable as Annie jerks around the passing blur of a parked car, "... where we need to go as fast as possible. Since Darla will be there what do we need to know to fight her?" Your tone is perfectly focused as you grab his arm to keep his attention.

Angel grimaces but then steels himself visibly. "She's older than me, thus better at the vampire thing. But I've smelled gunsmoke on her." He sounds concerned at that last bit. The reason is obvious.

Barring large weapons like Annie's Remington, such weapons are less than useful against a vampire or other demon, instead being much more useful against a human or a Slayer. The car jerks through a series of tight turns then and you look forward, scanning ahead for signs of her passing. Nothing, yet, as the houses rip past you and the car rumbles underneath you, the engine like caged thunder.

As you round a corner, Annie has to first swerve around one man about to cross the street at the corner and then around another dropping off his trash a split second down the road. Both of the human's exclamations are loud and full of vulgarity as you roar past them. Possible complications. Wonderful. Your feelings are pushed towards a mounting aggression and a gnawing unacceptability.

Then you feel Darla coming, at the same time as Annie slows and swings down an alleyway passing between two houses before shooting out another street and then lurching in a screeching turn to correct. Then speeding back up, you and Angel slammed back into your seats.

Then, near to hand you feel other vampiric presences and your mind rapidly prepares to explain the issue before you see your driver tense.

She interrupts, her eyes gliding over you both in quick flicks. "It seems the Coward brings her coterie." Annie's voice is dark. But more importantly she still assisted you while caught in her vision, as this is obviously what is happening.

You can sense the Warrior's Soul now, along with her Mother, and in the middle of the street you can see the back of the Warrior's home. Peeking above the one facing this street, which has its lights off and seems uninhabited. The wake of Darla herself is rapidly approaching from the other side.

"Stop right up there! We can run through the side yard!" Angel says loudly as he gestures to a dark hole between two houses. Annie slows, turns and then stops the car with a lurch, turning to look at you both, breathing hard.

"Uh," She glances around, then blinks. "Out out out!" She scrambles to blurt out, popping her door and then dropping into a crouch. You also get out, watching for the vampire presences. Darla is already extremely close to the Mother and the other vampires are somewhere nearby. You feel Angel sprint past you, nearly silent, in that strange run of theirs. Annie looks at you as you slide up to where she is leaned against one of the tall brown fence "walls" of this alleyway, her eyes fully present now.

"We letting him handle Darla?" She asks, her voice sounding strained and rough. You tilt your head left, and then pull the cloak of shadows around you both. Less effective this way, but still acceptable. Using it you step silently down the track, past some trees and then look left to see that indeed the front door is open and there are two vampire men…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" You hear a woman scream from inside there, followed by crashing and thudding. Well. A quick flick of a glance is all you need to confirm the two vampire males watching the doorway. One is armed with a metal club of some kind, and the other has some piece of weaponry shoved into the back of his pants.

You slip up behind them as the crashing sounds in the house are joined by the unmistakable sounds of the Warrior hitting things, deep meaty thwacks, and voices you don't care about right this moment beyond a "You're here together! Aren't you!" from a very distraught sounding Warrior. Followed by loud crashing and snarling, and frightened screaming. Lights are popping on all around the neighborhood.

The two very pathetic monsters don't notice a thing as you step up behind them. Annie strikes first, with a BANG! and the head of the right hand vampire vaporizes in bloody chunks followed by the body dusting. The other vampire twirls, limbs blurring as they come up defensively.

Your arm snakes up between its limbs and your fingers leap forward to dig into its face with a squelch and making it scream in surprised agony. That scream is abruptly cut off by a Zhew-pow! as this vampire's head also explodes and it is reduced to dust with a Skree! Without anything passed between you or even a pause, the both of you slip in on cloaked feet to hear Darla snarling at someone.

"... so, you brought friends? Hahahaha. How cute Angel. They won't be much help. I got friends of my own you see." Her voice is grating and growly, the whimpering sound of the Mother coming from somewhere near her.

You are in a hall, filled with broken glass, some tossed about frames and a tear in the wallpaper. To your right is an open door into a dining room, on the same side and further in a straight stairway up to a second floor, to your left a closed door. Beyond the stairway is where her voice is coming from. Ghosting past the stairway, you catch a glimpse of Darla around the corner and raise your hand for Annie to stop.

"Bit of a problem isn't it Buffy? Try to save your mother from me then kill your little Angel, or try to kill your boyfriend who betrayed you and then save your mother? Decisions, decisions, and you'd probably fail either way." Her voice is high and cheery, but you can almost taste the fear.

"Darla, please, shut up." Angel, and he sounds absolutely furious, his teeth audibly grinding and his breath harsh. You hear a crunch of a footstep. Darla is backing up. You see her back come into view. Already knowing that Annie is raising her weapon to shoot you give a sharp gesture to stop her and looking back, grin. Then you slip forward.

"Those friends were fun!" Your voice is loud and extremely amused as you lunge forward, throwing away the cloak as you shoot across the carpet, uncaring for the sharp objects buried in it. Darla pivots, shoving the Mother out in front of her reflexively. You are mostly uncaring about the woman, your hand reaching past to launch a Soul Arrow at Darla with a Zhew! In a blur of inhuman speed she dodges to your right, the Arrow lancing past her to shatter a vase as it singes her blond cloud of hair. Dashing around the stumbling human woman who you grip with one hand and pull aside to pursue her.

As the human teeters away from you, Darla has continued her sprint, reaching out to claw for Buffy's throat before Angel interposes himself in front of her and with a solid thud collides with the vampiress. Both of the vampires react extremely violently to the collision, turning into a grappling fury of demonic growls and tearing flesh as their momentum slams them into and through the back door with a crunch of wood and shriek of protesting metal.

"Aghhhh! Gurrkl!" You are out and past Buffy, feeling her follow after you. Having her at your back is not comfortable at all. You skitter to the side instinctively, getting away from her as the two vampires growl and howl like giant cats in the dirt and grass. But, her eyes are drawn to the twisted mess, not you, and you follow her gaze.

Angel is currently losing, badly.

Schlurch! "ANGEL!" Buffy screams in utter horror as Darla rips out his throat with her teeth and then lurches to her feet. The vampiress's chin is running with blood and she looks ready to charge the Slayer, howling unrefined animalistic insanity. But she is interrupted by you stepping forward and blasting her in the chest with a Soul Arrow, sending her careening backward. In the flash of the impact you see her right herself and then dart away. Her form is chased by more of your bolts and the sudden BANG! BANG! BANG! of Annie shooting at her from beside a frozen Buffy.

Then she is gone, disappeared over the fence, and you have a choice to make.

What choice will you make?

[] Pursue Darla, find her and eat her Soul. Angel wanted to talk to Buffy on his own after all, and trust the seeming urgency of his wound to keep her occupied before you get back.

[] Do not pursue, you can track her readily enough later. For now, stay here and spin your web so the teenage Slayer doesn't get a silly idea.

---

And there we go! Angel got ventillated and you met Darla in person as it were. She doesn't like you one bit!

Vote lock on October 10th Wednesday 6:00 pm UTC.

 

[BungieONI]

Episode 7, Part 4
"The Squire Returns Home"​

Grabbing the urge to chase after the vampiress with metaphorical hands, you eat it quickly, holding yourself here. All you do is make a note of where she is going.

Later, later food.

Which leaves you with the tableau arrayed for viewing before you. Then it breaks as the Warrior unsteadily lurches down the steps, face twisted with intense guilt. Her unsteady feet cause her to stumble, landing next to Angel, hyperventilating past tears as she mutters a stream of vulgarity as her beau bleeds out essentially in her lap. You look across the porch at Annie and her expression is just… annoyed.

Which matches your own feelings to be honest. You imitate a sigh, which, helps. Something to note for later.

"... I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, shouldn't have, don't die don't die!" Buffy's river of babbling peters out as you walk up and crouch next to her. She startles, her hand making an aborted movement toward your face, before she rears back and stares at you in complete confusion as tears mar her face.

Dredging up memories of your predecessor's Mother you craft a sympathetic face.

"Hey, hey easy there, he's going to be fine. Strigoi can't die from losing their throat now can they? Hmm Angel?" You say with false calm, glancing down to look at the vampire. Groaning he shakes his head.

"Nrggle…" He bubbles out, blood foaming out from beneath his hand as he shakes his head.

You look back up and hold her dark gaze, patting her cheek.

"Everything will be fine." Your voice wears a pleasant tenor and a faint smile flutters across your face. The Warrior nods, slowly. Behind you, you hear thumping coming from the house and look over to see Annie standing somewhat protectively beside you and the Mother's Soul moving about.

The woman herself then stumbles around the edge of the doorframe, breathing hard. What is that? You think as you note a flicker somewhere above you, in the midst of your burst of annoyance as you focus back on the Mother. Pressing a hand to her forehead she breathes deeply, eyes screwed shut as she mouths what you think are vulgarities under her breath.

Then she opens her eyes and stares.

Hands dropping to hang at her side she seems completely lost. You stand up, her eyes locking onto you and then flicking between confusion, recognition and then even more intense confusion. You imitate a little elegant wave.

"Sorry to disturb your night Mrs. Summers…" You go to say, expecting her to interrupt. Which she does.

"Who the hell are you people? Why are you in my home!?" Her voice is livid and incredibly disturbed. Then Buffy lets out a small muttered, ".. crap," and her Mother's eyes latch onto her.

"Language young lady!" Running her shaking hands through her disheveled hair the Mother breathes out sharply before re-affixing her gaze to her wayward daughter. "Buffy! Who are these people? Why is he here!?" She shrieks as she flings a hand in the general direction of the prone Angel, whose face seems to be re-examining his life choices.

Then the nearly manic woman whirls on you and Annie, which immediately reminds you of that moment in Maple Court. "And who are you two? Really!? Why are you here?" You ignore her acidic tone as you eat the desire to eat her and stay still through your mounting irritation.

Buffy jumps up to her feet and rushes around you raising both her hands as she responds. "Mom, Mom, breathe! I can explain!" She blurts out in a rush, then looks slightly green around the gills.

"You betcha will! Inside! All of you!" The older woman's tone brooks absolutely no argument, and causes her child to take a few instinctive steps forward as she tries to get a word in, momentarily interrupted by a teary hiccup. You are moving out of the way as the Slayer blurts out something rather poorly timed.

"*Hiccup* Buh, Mom! Angel h-has a hole the s-size *hiccup* of a winter dress sale through his...!" She stammers out nearly incoherent before losing steam at her Mother's increasingly dazed expression. Then her g eyes slip over your shoulder. Where Angel is standing up behind you, groaning and burbling, trying to hold his throat together. The woman's eyes glaze over.

"…Hole? What happened to his...? What is wrong with his face!?" She says as her mouth flaps open and she stumbles to the side, leaning bonelessly against the doorframe.

"Mom!?" Buffy shouts, then glances back and blanches at Angel. "Eep!" She squeaks. Looking back and forth between her beau and her mother, she looks utterly torn about who to help first.

Annie saves the day by sliding under his right arm and propping him up, which elicits a thankful sounding gurggle. You grab Buffy's attention with a cleared throat, quite amused by this whole debacle but also quite ready to move on. In the background her Mother slips inside, muttering under her breath, thumping following her Soul.

"Buffy, go inside and get first aid so you and Annie can help Angel." Your voice is authoritative and sends Buffy's back straight as she trots inside. You turn to look at Angel and Annie, noting that you can feel the mage girl's Soul on the upper floor, though much reduced. She must be what I sensed.

Looking between the two your face sharpens. You lean in. "Angel, do you have enough blood at home to heal?" You ask, voice utterly stone cold and serious. He shakes his head.

Annie pales. "Dammit." She spits out, sounding perturbed. Angel waves a hand at you two and makes a negative sounding gurgle, before gesturing behind you towards the open door. Annie blinks, looks at you, and when you make an accepting face, does the facial equivalent of an accepting bow as she steps forward.

You follow up behind them, your steps slowed by a desire to go after your food. Shaking your head you eat that thought and focus on your companion in front of you. Your little party clunks through the door and to your left you can see a very angry Joyce digging through the cabinets beside the sink, completely absorbed in her quest for something. Alcohol by the smell if you are not mistaken. Her daughter slips around the corner unnoticed and grabs a plastic box with a red cross on it from atop the refrigerator.

Then she looks at you and you gesture upwards. "Bathroom?" You ask quietly, voice an imitation of calm urgency. She nods and slips past you, waving a hand for you to follow. When you round the back of the stairs you see Annie trying to support Angel with an arm across his chest and back as he leans precariously on a side table at the end of the stair. Writing on a yellow block of palm sized paper with one hand as the other is jammed against his gushing wound.

With a grunt, Annie grabs it and stuffs it into his hand and grabs the pen he dropped beside it. "Up you go big guy. Walk now, write later." She commands. Then she looks to you. "Where to?" She asks, sounding impatient, Angel leaning against her and looking somewhat dazed.

You point up and say. "Bathroom." You can feel the mage girl's Soul rise up from whatever weakness has fallen over her and hear a door creak open upstairs as Annie tugs Angel up the stairs. Delicately avoiding the trail of blood tracked after them, you follow.

"Uhh… Buffy? What is… EEEP!?" A young female voice murmurs before she blurts out an aborted shriek. 'Willow' is leaning against the top of the stairs. Her eyes are the size of saucers as she looks frantically between Angel, Annie, and then Buffy behind them.

"Hello, bleeding vampire coming through, please move." Annie grumbles out, tone utterly blunt as she pushes Angel past the stunned girl as her mouth hangs open and air wheezes out of her in a wordless stream. Buffy races up and grabs her shoulders, kit bouncing off them as you keep heading up the stairs at an acceptably urgent pace.

"Ah, crap crap! Willow, we're fine, I'm fine, Angel will be fine, and hey look Latria is fine too!" the Warrior gets out in a breathless stream, gesturing to you as you pass behind her. The mage girl seems to recollect her wits at that point and while looking confused also looks determined.

You slip past them and into the bathroom, tiles cool on your feet. Annie has propped Angel on the toilet and is currently shoving his balled up jacket against his throat. She looks up as you enter, tension draining slightly when you are in sight again.

"'Scuse me!" Buffy mutters as she slips around you and props the box onto the sink counter in easy reach and opens it, then backs up as Annie starts digging through it with one hand and half an eye. You lounge against the door frame, imitating regality as you watch.

"Buffy, tip his head back and hold him still." The teenage Slayer follows the direction immediately, grimacing at the blood currently making a tabard like spill all across Angel's front. He seems extremely pained and rather dazed, his face having returned to a human shape at some point.

Annie carefully eases his hand off his throat and jams a wad of gauze into the gaping messy tear with a look of disgust.

"Ugh. It's meaty." She mutters. Willow slips up next to you stiffly, peeking around the other side of the door frame, wide eyed, and then goes green as she takes in the gore all over Annie's hands. The Warrior isn't looking that good either as she holds Angel's head in place, wincing whenever he does.

"Thank God vamps don't have a heartbeat, otherwise this would be frigging impossible." Annie says conversationally, as her hands move between his neck and the box as she wipes off blood with one piece of gauze and holds another below the tear with the other. And as she said the flow is actually extremely sluggish for a throat wound, and is slowing down as his healing interferes and he runs out of blood.

"Hurghl." You look to the side as Willow holds both hands to her mouth and turns away. An impulse makes you approach and lean over her.

"Step outside." Your authoritative voice and soft hand on her back pushes her out as you follow and close the door most of the way behind yourself. Keeping an ear turned to the low voices within as Annie uses the Warrior like a nursemaid.

"There, there. Breathe." You say, using a motherly tone from your memories as you pat her on the back. How fortuitous, you think, as your mind turns to sinister designs.

"Cough cough. Guh, ew." Willow coughs out as she thumps her chest and swallows. Her face crinkling and mouth twisting as she obviously tastes something disgusting. Then, blinking and seeming to recognize who she is standing next to, she straightens awkwardly from her hunch, her limbs held like a marionette's, and turns to look up at you.

Her face is full of embarrassment, confusion, curiosity, and a bit of relief. "Ah… uh." She mumbles at you as she leans back slightly to look up at you. You raise an eyebrow, calculated to get her to say whatever is on her mind.

"Uhm…" Looking down, she mumbles the rest. "T-Thanks. For u-uh," She waves a hand as she hunches inward, supremely uncomfortable. "That, Ms. Latria." She gets out, peeking up at you from behind her hair. There is far more to that thanks than just this one incident.

You make your smile leak into your voice. "Not a problem." As you look at her that impulse surges again. "Have you ever been told you would have a talent for magic?" You say, following that impulse. Her eyebrows shoot up her face as she blinks, her response utterly stunned.

"N-no, how…?" She asks, obviously extremely intimidated by just your presence.

You hum pleasantly in response and smile as you say. "We witches tend to have ways to figure it out."

You look down to her neck, where a large blue and white bandage is adhered to her neck. Then you flick your gaze back up to meet hers. She seems about to comment on your drifting look, but then seemingly thinks better of it.

She leans against the bannister of the stair and turns to stare at the door, hand raised to her mouth as she looks nervous with the other crossed under her chest.

"Angel will be o-okay... right?" She asks, tone hopeful and concerned while she frowns at the door, hugging herself with one arm.

You nod. "Yes, strigoi are quite resilient. He could survive worse." You ponder for a split second your next words, then go ahead with them. "But he'll need blood to properly recover." Your voice is impassive. The girl beside you winces slightly.

"But how w-would he…" She says in a distracted tone, before shaking her head. She straightens slightly, and angles herself so she can see you and the door at the same time. Tilting your head right you wait patiently for her to muster up her courage.

"You said y-you came here from… umm... o-overseas." Here she pauses then pushes on. "Are you going to be staying for a while?" Her face is considering.

Oh? This development is almost exactly what you wanted.

You chuckle in actual amusement and then respond. "Yes I will, at least until the Master is gone. This town is too important for the greater tapestry of things."

"Oh… good!" She says, smile kicking up in the corner as she brightens.

The conversation lapses into silence. You take that moment to eat some of your more annoying thoughts and listen to the quiet murmur from behind the barely ajar door. "Right… pass me the big needle, we're gonna have to wrap this up rough and dirty…" Annie says as you listen to the thumping down below die down. You conclude from the fading sounds that the Mother will be done with whatever she is doing soon.

"Mmm, you will be a good friend to her, I can tell. Don't fall into the pits over perceived failures on your part." Your solem words fill that silence, setting the seed, and from the corner of your eye you can see the girl stiffen, her expression wondering, confused and hopeful. You raise an eyebrow and smile in response to her look.

Soon, soon we can be done here. A part of you whispers.

"Latria, we're done in here." Annie says at the same time as the mage girl says, "Thank you," in a small voice. The door opens to reveal Annie standing there wiping her hands together, looking between you two as she steps out. The quick glance she sends your way tells you that she was disgusted and annoyed by that in equal measure, but you being here can help her ignore it.

"Buffy! I'm ready for you to explain all of this!" Her Mother calls up, voice chilly.

"Coming Mom, hold on a second!" Buffy gets in from the bathroom where you can't see, interrupted by a stringent. "Now please!"

Thumps and grunts follow and Buffy emerges from the bathroom supporting Angel, though the height difference makes it extremely awkward, only counterbalanced by their unnatural strength. The vampire in question now has a throat fully obscured by white gauze and a very pale face, currently slack with a dazed expression of pain. He grumbles in acknowledgement of you all, with a tiny wince in the direction of Willow that you catch which you mostly ignore to stare at his bandage.

Stumbling past with Buffy he pauses for a second and after fumbling around shoves some red stained yellow squares of paper into your hand. You look down at them and can't make sense of them until you uncrumple them and look as Buffy descends the stair. Willow and Annie lean over your hand from either side.

They read, underneath all the ink scrawls and blood, in relative order:

Need ride home
Got enough, can close it
Hospital has more
Police soon

You think. Annie sighs beside you while Willow frowns at the red stains. When you look away Annie snatches them up and jams them into a pocket. She walks away, back and shoulders stiff with irritation as she re-adjusts her weapon. You walk beside her with the Willow girl slowly teetering after you down the stairs.

The Warrior and vampire pair have already gone out of sight until you round the end of the stairs and see them limping together down the hall. There is a quiet pop in the air and you smell a wonderful aroma on the air, filling the house. Splash-splash, you presume a wonderful smelling liquid goes as it is poured into a glass somewhere out of sight. I want that.

Following the scent of blueberries and the bite of alcohol you slip in behind the Warrior and enter the living room second. Where you find the Mother sitting in a cushioned arm chair, head in a hand and resting her elbow on her knee and a wine glass full of dark liquid in the other hand.

That posture makes you think 'Opportunity' and that impression is not diminished as everyone else filters in. Your step is almost light with unintentional Levitation as you see all of the opportunity around you.

So many webs, indeed.

The woman doesn't respond or make a move as everyone finds seats. You choose a smaller couch to the left of the Mother's chair and lounge against the arm as Annie sits, back straight, beside you. While you were doing that Buffy helped Angel slump into a chair to the Mother's right, Willow going to sit on a large sofa across from her. And Buffy remains standing in the middle of the room, hands wringing.

"So…" She smiles nervously. "Mom I can explain everything, so um… okay." The girl has to take several deep breaths as she collects her thoughts, one hand fidgeting with her skirt. You do hope she can get through this quickly.

"Okay. So, um, there's a lot more to the world than you might think Mom." Buffy starts, her Mother raising her glass to take a gulp as she rubs her forehead over closed eyes. The girl powers through anyway, "Vampires and demons and werewolves and ghoulies and oh god you don't believe me… um… um…" She flails around, panic twisting her face as she turns and looks at the vampire, "Angel help me out here!" Her voice is plaintive as she whispers at him.

"Grrgule… on mrgl." He responds with a resigned shoulder twitch, the squishy sound causing the Mother to wince and open her eyes unintentionally. At which point he shifts to his vampire face. And she goes nearly cross-eyed at him as she almost inhales wine. You catch Willow wincing in the background.

"Gurk! Hack! What in the name of God!?" Joyce sputters out as she coughs, dabbing at her mouth with her sleeve.

"Uh… yeah." Buffy puts on a massive dose of fake cheer in a blatant attempt at diversion as she wrings her hands.

She gestures back at the vampire, "This is Angel, you met him before and he is a uh vampire. All… fangy and uh *rawr*." She makes a pathetic growling noise and clawing hand motions as she finishes. Angel, apparently tiring, slips back out of his demon face and slumps a little further in his chair, weakly massaging his bandages as he tries to sit up straight and look attentive.

"You…" Joyce begins to say something in a confused and disturbed tone, before a look of horrified realization comes over her face.

"Your boyfriend is a walking corpse!?" Her shriek is intense enough to rattle your eardrums unpleasantly, and you feel Annie huff beside you.

The silence is total and everyone in the room except for you and Annie, has some variation of horrified awe and or chagrin.

For a brief moment. And then there's a tiny, "Oh," sound from the middle of the room. Your eyes snap to a Willow with a distant expression, mouth quirked in a mou of realization.

"Blood bags. He needs blood bags." The oblivious mage girl looks around and then winces, harder than at Joyce's outburst. "Sorry sorry, bad time, like um… yep bad time."

Joyce sighs in seeming defeat as Buffy shares a sympathetic look with her friend.

As you are about to clap to get the attention of the room you are interrupted, to your irritation, as Joyce looks up at her daughter and with a slight groan says. "I'm sorry Buffy, Angel, that was… extremely out of line." She takes a deep breath, then waving a hand in front of her face, continues.

"This is just… too much to take in and... *sigh*. Right." The woman's posture firms as she makes a resolution. You take your moment then.

Clap.

The entire room, as one, turns to you at your clap. Willow looks curious, and as if she was about to say something. Angel is still valiantly trying to stay awake, and Buffy is interested, wary and generally low level panicking. Passing over all of them, you look squarely at Joyce.

"While this is all enlightening, we have some more pressing concerns," Your eyes flick to the destroyed hallway outside as you say that, "Mrs. Summers, as is obvious, you were attacked by one of the creatures your daughter's just described. I fight these creatures as my real profession. And this is my companion," Angel gets a weird look at the word 'companion' as you gesture to your left at Annie, "Annie, who assists me in my endeavours." The redhead waves and gives a polite nod as she schools her expression into a pleasant smile, hiding her annoyance at this entire situation. Seeing the questioning look on Joyce's face you push on.

"This is important because your daughter is something of a…," You pause to feign thinking for a moment, "'chosen one' in my particular field. Which she honestly deserves to explain." You raise a hand in Buffy's direction, her face a mixture of thankful and annoyed. Mostly thankful.

The teen picks up the thread. "Um… yeah. So Mom… I'm um, the 'Slayer'," She raises her hands in a little 'quote' shape as she says that. "Which means I hunt vampires, uh… which I know sounds really weird and dangerous but I'm actually pretty safe because I'm like uh super strong and stuff." Which the rambling girl proceeds to demonstrate by reaching over and lifting one end of Willow's sofa, to the mage girls startled, "Eep!", with one hand and then putting it back down.

Turning back around the blonde bounces back into place and looks nervously at her Mother, chewing on her bottom lip as the older woman takes it all in with a tired expression.

"Super-strength huh?" She mutters, staring up at the ceiling, before draining her glass in one smooth motion.

Then she transitions to a thoughtful expression, before her eyes fall down and she Looks at her daughter, eyebrows raised and mouth pursed.

"Is this… thing, at all involved with why the gym burned down?" she asks curiously, her tone conveying she knows the answer and is not pleased it is coming out now, as she slowly returns to more solid footing.

Buffy looks stricken. "Uh, haha… um… yeah."

"Ah." Joyce says noncommittally, reaching over to pour herself another drink. The room is again silent while she pours. You eat a grumble before it can work its way out of your throat. Willow slips into the conversation again from where she was fidgeting on her seat for the past minute.

"Don't worry too much Mrs. Summers, Buffy isn't alone out there. She's got me and Xander and Giles and well everyone else in this room too." Her voice is trying, to be chipper but only partially succeeds. From her nervous fiddling with her hair, you can tell she failed too.

Weeh-woo weeh-woo. You suddenly notice something in distance. Sirens? Ah, the constabulary.

You push out an artful sigh, causing Joyce to focus on you again. Looking around the room you can see that only Angel has noticed something is wrong as well, from the way his shoulders have weakly tensed.

"Well, it would seem the local constabulary are on their way, which means that you, Mrs. Summers, should come up with a story for what happened here. One which doesn't involve 'vampires and demons and ghoulies' as your daughter put it." You say seriously, hands clasped in your lap as you meet the woman's gaze, carefully hiding your desire to do her harm.

Her eyes bug out slightly. "Uh, why, couldn't they help?" She asks, incredulous.

You wince faintly and shake your head. "No, no they can't. I've found that they either don't know and made to be obstructive or are actively suborned by dark forces, and I've yet to seen evidence to the contrary here." Your tone is solemn.

"Oh." She looks around at the room. Buffy and Willow both nod and respond with a chagrined, "Yep."

Angel shrugs and grimaces.

Joyce groans slightly, then looks at the bottle and glass."Right, Willow could you be a dear and put this in the cabinets under the sink?"

"Yep!" The shy girl responds eagerly.

Joyce then stands after the girl rushes over. Crossing her arms she looks between; her daughter, Angel, who is nearly asleep or the vampire equivalent at this point, and you as clatters follow after the rapidly moving Willow disappears from sight with the bottle.

"I'm assuming you aren't going to want to stay here?" Joyce says to you, before glancing at Angel, looking like she is about to say something, but thinks better of it.

Annie shakes a head. "No, we shouldn't. It'll actually make your story easier if we aren't around, especially with the lug over here needing 'obvious' medical attention. I'll give the floors and bathroom a wipe down so there isn't so much blood everywhere."

Joyce seems surprised at her little speech, then considers and sighs, before nodding. "Go ahead, bleach if you need it is beneath the bathroom sink along with rags." She gestures out of the room.

You have already stood up and stepped over to Angel, grabbing one arm with his limp assistance and slung it over his shoulder.

"I'll be in the car, Annie." You say to your companion as she leaves the room.

"Got it." She responds, disappearing out of sight quickly. You go to follow.

A voice stops you. "Oh, by the way Angel, Latria, I expect him to be back at some point so we can have a talk." You feel Angel have a full body shudder at that cold tone as she says the word 'talk'.

You're just amused that she might want to talk to you as well, and look back at her. "I'll make sure he's intact enough to do it on his own. Goodnight."

With an effort of will you feel Angel stop his shuddering, though he is too weak to properly walk at this point. Which is tempting in its own way, but you already have something, someone, in mind after all. So with little trouble you navigate the vampire out the door and across the yard.

With some coaxing you get him into the car, messing about with the door and then helping him flop in. The vampire is now sprawled out along your back seat, looking much like a corpse, so you seat yourself and wait for Annie to return. And the weeeh-woo of the sirens becoming clearer with every minute that passes.

Crunch-crunch-crunch.

Annie jogs around the fence corner and down the alleyway, a bottle in the crook of her right arm surprisingly, before bouncing to a stop in the front seat and quickly twisting the wires together to get the car to purr to life as she puts the bottle beneath her. She looks around, face obviously somewhat concerned by the now completely audible sirens. Then she reverses and pulls out, swinging around to head up the street and away from the Summers home.

Your companion is tightly focused on the road ahead of her while she drives, that focus holding you in place as the sea of eagerness begins to push into your mind in frenzied streams. You have no eyes for the flickering houses as you pass them or the tiny Souls within. Everything that is you is bent towards finding where your victim went, spread out like a flower of many eyes and many hands blooming around you on the mystical plane. It is hard to hold your puny human shape when you want to go.

Some moments into your struggle a part of you distantly notes that your companion has relaxed, sighed, and her grip loosened on the wheel as the distant noises fade completely away. That in turn causes a part of you to relax as well, 'waiting' no longer being an ill fitting action. The bloom in your head becomes less urgent.

It retreats enough to leave you half aware of the physical world, hanging there in that state while your companion drives through shadow. Eventually, after an interminable moment which is far too long, the scenery changes and you hear distant music on the air. Soon after that change, you pull through an alley and emerge near the building, below which sits the lair of your passenger.

The car stops and your companion glances at you in concern, looking over the stiff posture you have forced yourself into for brief moment. Her eyes widen and her lips twitch as she realizes what is going on, before nodding and exiting the car to help your passenger get out. After a series of thumps and a small groan she gets him out, and with one of his arms slung over her shoulder you watch them walk away into the shadows and through a darkened doorway.

In the silence that follows you try to sit still. At first. You end up failing quickly, as movement on the edge of your vision alerts you to the fact that your fingers are twitching and tapping out a beat without your input. And a note in your head you realize is you humming a tune between your ceramic teeth.

Not your hymn this time though. Something from memories from before you were created, of a little girl sitting on her father's lap and basking in the idea of simple existence.

This need to go eats at you, where before you had eaten it just to sit and…

What if I… You lose yourself down a side branch of your winding thoughts, of pondering how you might eat your coming food. The means and the methods. It is stunning really how many options you have… but you know quite well what you are going to do. It comes easily to hand in your mind.

The door slamming shut jerks you out of your mental wandering and you turn, stiffly, to look at Annie. She is staring at you intently as she leans against the wheel. One of your hands clenches against your dress, and you force out a bare amount of coherent speech.

"The graves... I am hungry." What is shaped by your smooth lips is a grind of metal on metal and porcelain chimes, the cadence of your song molding your speech, as your hidden limbs push more and more and more at your increasingly fragile illusion.

Annie's smile is vicious, full of teeth like a proper smile not a moment later, as the car gallops forward beneath you.

Minutes later and you are back in prime hunting grounds, through the ivy curtained iron gates, standing amongst a field of headstones and mist. Amongst these graves, the soft grass and dirt caress your bare feet as you stretch. A shudder passes through your false image as your four arms unfold and you stand at your full height with inhuman grace. The grace of wires and puppets and things made for dolls.

Beside you is your faithful and eager companion, her weapon at the ready, and expression like a hunting hound. A memory springs into the cavernous, hungry confines of your mind.

"Such a hunt requires song, does it not my wonderful wife?"

In the present, you agree, and the opening notes of the song float into the air. A sorrowful, eager thing, you do not sing it loudly, because it is not meant to be. Instead, you move, your steps light and quick and full of all the energy that is not meant to be sung. A twirl and flare of your dress has you become three, then five, and then seven.

All of them moving, running, hunting across the grass as your song hangs around you like a second cloak. Your hound running by your side as she hums along with you.

The air is twisted by your passing whistling and screeching as your Fog boils out around your feet, leaving a hungry train in your wake. The spirits sleeping here are torn from their rest, wailing after you in a parade of crying and faint throaty laughter from your companion.

Her eyes are beside yours, even if your many perspectives cannot see them, nor what the vistas they see. Together the both of you sprint to the crypt you had found so long ago. Driven here by a scent of flowers and bloody grave dirt, you do not stop for the door, two of your twenty eight arms rising briefly and your Soul lancing forward to destroy the obstruction. You rush through as it collapses with a bang. Then, again, on the inner door which flies into the tunnel wall with a cacophonous clang.

And down you both go. All around the darkness parts before your vision, physical and immaterial dimness parting like faint and filmy curtains in your gaze. The Hellmouth roils joyfully against your skin like a sea. A pitiful sea. That thought makes you smile as you feel the Fog within you roil in time to the outer sea butting up against the shape of your container.

Your eyes rove over the walls of brick and shaped stone, skipping over water drips and small cracks and tiny patches of lichen. Noting the likely age, the condition and gleefully wondering where all the various entrances might lead to.

There are many branches and twisting, maze-like, turns in this hidden underground. Six of you go your separate ways, shooting down these tunnels and spreading where your eyes can see. The central you stays with Annie. You lead her down the twisting paths, your still continuing wordless duet keeping you moving as a linked pair and bouncing off the stony walls.

There.

A mirror found a weak blood-hungry thing.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" It screams from its little ragged nest of stolen blankets as your image tramples into it. The thing is silenced, and you are strengthened by its meager energies, as your mirror reduces it to a cloud of dust. Your steps are lighter and your eagerness rising to even greater heights as you rumble down the halls. A part wonders at the sparseness of the population of food down here.

Another part of you finds your companion's ability to keep up with you more than acceptable. She has not tired, a burning frantic energy in her eyes limbs as you dash past tunnel mouth after tunnel mouth. Your swift passage stirs up the scent you are chasing, before squashing the fragrance into the dust, and you adjust your course using the sea of sensation your mirrors provide.

Soon though you must slow slightly as first two, then three, then the rest of your mirrors dissolve at the limits of your range. Step-step-step it makes you go, and then you speed up again as another handful of the mirrors emerge from you again, repeating their diaspora as you pass more tunnel mouths. You laugh when one immediately catches onto Her wake. All of you swings to chase after her and Annie follows.

"Ahahahahahaha! Faster Annie, faster!" You say without thought as you pull ahead of her. She obliges with a laugh of her own and a cocky grin as she speeds up.

The wake twitches, recoiling from the burning gaze of your many eyes and the hard touch of non-physical hands. This pleases you. You cannot see Her yet with any of your material eyes, nor smell her fear or hatred or hear her running steps. But that is okay, because She can't get away from you and your hound.

Putting on another burst of speed, said hound pulls ahead of you.

Your eagerness is peaking now, the chase is almost over. You have encircled your food now. Distantly you can hear leather clad feet dashing over hard stone like an applause or splashing through unknown liquids. Her floral scent is fresh now, pulling you along like one of your fools.
The beat of your many feet drown hers out as you catch glimpses of her blonde hair and pumping limbs through the darkness and flashing tunnels. Almost there now! You can feel your smile stretching your cheeks as the net finally closes.

It happens quickly. Rounding a corner She is caught in an intersection and out of the shadows leaps a mirror, mouth ratcheted open around a keening growl and arms grasping at Her.

"No!" Her yell of rejection rings through the tunnels as Her demonic face emerges. With a snarl she grabs one of the mirror's flailing arms. Before it can react or the next two get close, the mirror is spun in a circle and flung into the one rushing for the vampiress's back, dispersing them. Out of the shadows rushes the last one, and while She springs out of your grasp, she is now being herded towards an ambush. You and your hound slow your frantic pace as She is pushed towards you.

The second ambush springs as the herder is dispersed, and this time She can't avoid the trap as one of the mirrors turns a corner and strikes Her in one of Her blurring arms with an Arrow. "AAiiiiiiighhhhhrrr!" She shrieks as She clutches at the smoking wound. Which is all you need to have the second mirror leap onto Her back and wrap itself around Her as it giggles maddly.

Her response is violent hissing as She slams her head back into the mirror's face and crushes it against a wall, dispersing it. Free, she howls in that insane animalistic fury you found so entertaining before. That howl is interrupted by a deafening BANG! as your hound walks around the corner with you and fires her weapon at the vampiress.

Two of your mirrors jerk forward as the vampiress dodges the shot in a blur of pale flesh and blonde hair, the things leaping onto your food's arms as she prepares to leap at you. Snarling in confusion and pain the vampire tries to struggle out of their grasp, only to gasp in pain as they burn into her flesh with Soul magic.

"Hahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahaha!" The laughter exploding up from your belly is sudden, unstoppable and utterly pleased as she is held before you. Her face is a canvas of true Soul deep anger and hatred.

"Fuck…!" She howls as she jerks out of your grip and rockets towards you. Your hand comes up as another cacophonous BANG! fills the tunnel, an impact and sudden painful blooming of red causing her to stumble. Right into your waiting hand, wrapping around her throat and holding her up.

"... youuu…*cough*." She finishes, breath leaking out weakly as she stares in horror.

Your other hands stab forward, burning with your Soul.

***​

Ah.

The weight on your shoulders is gone. You feel relieved, the knot of tension you were carrying without your knowledge and covering over with eagerness, gone. You sigh, the end of your little song and with it calmness fully settles over your mind.

A hand holding a grey cotton cloth enters your vision, obscuring the pile of dust you were staring at.

"Thank you Annie." You say kindly as you delicately take the handkerchief in one of your hands, wiping the other ones on it. It quickly becomes stained with red, though you don't mind as you dab carefully at your lips and chin.

When you are done you pass it back to her, where it disappears into a pocket.

I haven't hunted like that in… centuries, the thought suddenly strikes you. Only in your earliest days did you do something similar. And your mind was never as full during the hunt back then.

You rather prefer this change, truth be told.

Looking around you pass your eyes over the stone and brick tunnel, tracing the cracks and drips of water idly while you consider your next course of action. You blink in interest as you note the sheer age of the tunnel all around you. Centuries, at least.

You were heading east for the majority of the chase… so you should be close to the school. Intriguing...

A whisper of thought has you looking more closely for magical oddities. Annie stands besides you as you pivot slowly in place, her eyes flicking up and down the tunnel as she runs her hands slowly over her weapon. All is calm, receding from the heights the Hellmouth soared too as you consumed the vampire whose dust lies at your feet.

Hmm?

The recession proceeds further than you expect. Then you feel a tug on your sleeve as you begin to see something. Looking down at Annie you see her looking off into the middle distance to your right, eyes glazed over.

"What do you see?" Your voice is soft, coaxing.

"A wall." Her voice is present, so she is not in a true trance, and her arm rises to point at something down in the darkness of the far tunnel. "Do you see it?" She asks, her red hair glinting very faintly from the faint lights dipping into this tunnel from the weak and tiny fixtures on the ceiling.

You do see it. A smooth wall of magic, outlined by the recession. She must have seen it before it fully formed in your senses. You both reach the same conclusion, simultaneously, as you stare at it.

"The Master."

It is obvious, the wall is thick with the taint of vampires and you can almost feel a faint presence behind it now that the Hellmouth is not obscuring it from your sight. And even more damningly, you can trace in your mind the shape it was supposed to be, before it was disturbed and collapsed under its own weight and crumbled into a prison. It has His mark all over it.

You set off in its general direction as the Hellmouth roils and rages and begins to obscure it again.

The tunnels you traverse are old, decayed and dusty. And infused deeply with what you think must be the Master's own magical energy. Or, at least, his energy forming a skeleton for whatever ritual he had which went awry in the distant past. Distantly, you can feel a pressure in your ears, magic pressing on your body, increase as you get closer and closer and the old smell of many vampires gets thicker.

Eventually, after many twists and turns you come to a wide circular brick tunnel, the side of which has been pierced by another smaller circular tunnel, also of brick, to reveal a dark hole from which a faint golden light flickers. The mystical weight here pushes on your shoulders, but you and Annie remain unfazed.

You know He is waiting for you.

You step into the tunnel, your bare feet making no sound on the brick, as your mantle rustles over the brick and Annie thuds in your wake. As you pass the middle of the tunnel a cavern is revealed to you in the candlelight beneath the upper rim of the tunnel exit, and it is distorted by a opalescent shimmer on the far side. Your stately walk ends as you emerge onto the upper landing of a rough stairway, Annie coming to a halt behind you and to your left, hand on her weapon.

And there He is below you. The Master.

His face is that of a hairless bat's, stretched over the smooth skull of a man, sharp teeth glinting from between his red stained lips. His shoulders are broad and speak of elegance and strength, though the way His finely crafted leather suit wraps around His twisted musculature speaks to the lie of that elegance. His limbs are long, too long for a man, as He stands with His hands clasped at His waist, the nails of His hands thick and filed to a point.

Behind him stands a chair of dark, almost bloody wood, and red velvet cushions. Mine. Stood before it and to the Master's left is a boy of no more than eight years, clothed in a blue jacket and simple pants. The child is black of hair and gangly in a way that speaks to once being alive just before becoming a young man. The Anointed, then. This boy is the presence you can feel, behind the shimmering opalescence of the Master's prison. You can feel the Master's will in the barrier, acting on its basic nature to strengthen it, and prevent you from crossing the barrier. He wants to talk then.

You smile.

"Hello, Good Sir of the Night. I must say your minions are just delectable. Where do you get them, if I may ask?" Your voice is projected, filling the room with its graceful and inhuman tones. Raising a hand to your chin as the others rest at your waist, you are the picture of elegance as you open with calculated rudeness.

The Master smiles, showing nothing behind it as He looks at you as if you might be a confused child.

"I am a well traveled man you see. A connoisseur of human suffering and how such weak and squealing babes can be transformed into beautiful creatures of the night. I'm sure even a young and impetuous upstart like you can understand such things?" He speaks like melted honey, His voice a languorous baritone which lingers in the ear after it is spoken.

You laugh behind your hand, enjoying this conversation already. So rarely have you met an opponent on the field of words.

"Hahaha, how rude of me to forget my manners. I am The Fool's Idol, rightful Queen of the Ivory Tower and…," you pause for a brief instant of suspense, "...the rightful ruler of this town." Your tone is mocking, dancing and gleeful, without actually sounding anything other than completely genuine and honest.

"I shall not share my name with a usurper and bandit. You may call me The Master." He raises one be-clawed hand and gestures pompously as He maintains His smile.

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression, that your power is anything but a speck in comparison to mine." He stares at you, His face becoming an artist's rendition of graceful anger, "You may have killed Darla, my oldest and dearest childe, and while that is a sin of murder against me, the sin of your willful ignorance is worse." He raises His hand to you, feigning sadness.

You chuckle and arch a brow at Him as you purse your lips.

"You are ignorant, because you believe that returning Darla to her untimely grave means you have any hold over me." The vampire laughs then, a rolling and genuinely amused chuckle. Then He shakes His head and steps one foot closer.

"Child, you do not comprehend what is actually important to me." His tone is the height of patronizing and pitying.

You tap a chin in thought as you match Him and move one foot closer, stepping down onto the stairs.

"Truly?" Your tone is genuine. Genuine pity.

"Is the scope of how you see me so truly limited? I would expect better of such a prime specimen of the evil denizens of this plane." You lament as you shake your head, a sad frown marring your regal features.

"I understand now. You all, the vampires, the demons. You lack ambition." The passion in your voice is real, but the pity is a false hood propped up by it.

"You have naught but your throne and that boy to your name. A King in war leathers and nothing more." Your voice is soft, but you can see it cut into the Master as one of His eyes twitches.

"You call me young, you imply that I do not know the true depths of evil and you pride yourself on the knowledge of death that comes with your vampiric state, when you do not know what kind of creature I am." His eyes widen, fractionally, and the boy's narrows.

"Good Master, I have lived and died and lived again more times than there are hairs on that boy's head. Centuries have passed me by as I served my God as a right thinking and sanctified Queen, an avatar of Its malevolence." Your voice is not human, a thing of teeth and doll-like hands and flame bending the air into words through the medium of your simple body.

The Master waves a hand as the Anointed and Annie look on, wide eyed. "Bah! Paltry repetition cheapens one's understanding of death. Do you understand the weight that comes with destroying kingdoms of men with a word or a single slit throat? Does life hold meaning to you like it does to me, you creature of the Beyond?" His voice is afire with His anger, both the false and the not, held tightly like a sword.

You respond simply. "Yes."

It throws Him, the utter, complete, insane certainty in that one syllable startling Him.

From your high step you belittle him. "Know this, vampire. I am more than you. You speak to the embodiment of a kingdom's self consuming hunger for idolatry." The air moves with your power and your hair flutters, the clanking of your ornaments filling the room as your volume slowly rises, "This which stands before you is the pith of a rotten and evil fruit, torn out and made powerful by the hand of a mad god-king. I understand the value of life."

Your voice is solemn and proud and weighted with the memory of an uncountable number of lives, as you finish speaking.

The Master frowns, and you feel a twist in the magic of the barrier from the boy, which is then grasped by the Master. Something they prepared?

Then his expression smooths, and he sighs. "So, I see we shall be eternal enemies then? A pity. Begone from my presence!" He shouts in a strange tongue that you understand only because you are of the Fog, his voice like thunder as he throws out his hands at you. The rush of magic surprises a tiny part of you, but your reaction is not interrupted as you float off the ground like a hanging puppet and wrap your arms around Annie.

The wall of rippling red force catches you up like a giant liquid hand and throws you up the tunnel entrance and then out through the outer tunnel and away from His sanctum.

Your laughter trails in its wake as it slows after a wild second of movement, and then stops. You alight on the ground, unharmed and standing before the angry red wall of his temporary expulsion. It hangs there rippling in the air as a backdrop to your laughter, which is quickly mixed together with Annie's as she bends over and hangs onto her knees.

"HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

It is truly the laughter of the insane, because there is little reason to say you both are anything close to its opposite. Eventually though the laughter drains away and the both of you are left standing in the tunnel, ready to go home again. Satisfied with a night well spent.

What finds Latria next?

[] She checks on Angel, he hasn't shared his knowledge of the Master yet after all. And you can figure out some of what he is willing to help you with.

[] Buffy shows up unexpectedly, curious about where you live. And plainly wanting to get out of the house.

[] As you wander the town at night, hunting, you run into Giles and he entices you to tag along as visits a small bookshop you haven't seen before.

---

Alright! My biggest update so far, oh god, and I had tons of fun writing it. Massive, massive thanks to @Lazy Minx who helped me edit this and had hilarious commentary as it was coming together.

This ends Episode 7, and next up will be Episode 8 "A Dynamo of Hearts".

Vote will close on Monday, October 15th 6:00 pm UTC.

 

[BungieONI]

Episode 8
"A Dynamo of Hearts"​

The dust that used to be Angel pattered to the beige rug around your feet. Stupid vampire. Trusting he could take the human. Sliding the stake back in under your jacket you plotted how you were going to kill the girlfriend in the next room. There was a rather handy vase on a little end-table your grandfather carved from a stump almost three decades ago. That'd do.

Picking the vase up in your hand, you let the happy memories buried in the feeling of the porcelain bouy you as you tip the flowers and dirt out and walk towards the door to the other room. You call out, your voice warbling in that way you know it does when you are dreaming.

"Hey, Slayer! My Lady would like me to do something to you!" Your hand clenches on the rim as you turn the corner and you see a screaming blonde blur racing towards you. You have enough time to raise the vase and then there is a loud crash and pained scream as the charging girl slams into the porcelain obstacle. She tips backward, you can see blood streaming down her face and falling shards of ceramic.

Awww, is that it? The thought interrupts dream-you as you feel your body in two positions at once, standing, and laying on your side. Time to wake up then.

You breathe in, and open your eyes to the white expanse of your pillow mashed into your nose. A grunt of effort has you levering into a seated position. Running your hand through mussed up red hair you sit wrapped up in your covers, staring at the red gold light filtering through your window. Another day, another dawn, come and gone again. Hmm Sunday. The view from your room was something else really, if you cared to go over and look out the thing. The sigh stretching your lungs is cathartic as you continue the thought started in your dream.

Would I drop the fragments or not? You wonder as you stretch your arms above your head, enjoying the little cracks in your joints, your gaze unintentionally running over your stuff as they laid across the dresser beside the bed. Latria's Remington was shining after the cleaning you gave it last night, ammo neatly laid out beside it in little red rows. Your jacket was hanging up, and peeking out of the front pockets you could see your gloves, and the stake. You feel your teeth crunch together at that little reminder.

Those people…

Shaking your head you squirm out of bed, running your hand through hair still fluffy from your shower last night, to go about your morning ablutions. Distracting yourself from images of that fucking blood soaked vampire with thoughts of how this place even has running water.

Probably a master demon involved in the chain, somewhere.

Which has been your running theory for the past several days, after you got past the idea of 'unobservant bureaucrats' when a walk around the house confirmed that the meters were… unplugged. Probably. Either way, whatever the cause, the water was warm, almost boiling, as it dumped itself on your head. You were careful with your arms, keeping them out of the way as much as possible and moving slowly when you couldn't. The tugging of the water on your blood red hair was both welcoming, and made you twitchy. A little always comes out after all…

And that line of thinking was never pleasant for a whole host of reasons. Your proximity to the Fog gate helped push it away though. What was in there was surprisingly helpful, you'd found out a while ago. The whispers helped you sleep, for what little amount you did that anyway.

A quick rinse and dip was all you had patience for today. Can't overuse the soap… again. Drying off, you flicked the towel over the bar to your left and got dressed in some jeans and a t-shirt. Today is a blue day, you quickly decided as you pulled everything on. It was something of a nice start to the day to be back in your room now that that meaty vampire fucker was back in his lair.

Honestly, that fight of his was awful. Muttering about the indignity of 'centuries old critters getting their ass beaten black and blue' you tramped across the balcony and to the stairs. Walking down you made a beeline for the kitchen and food. You always took the option to eat, when you could. You weren't always sure when the next chance would be after all. And certain habits die hard.

Especially when you agreed with them.

Your musing was interrupted as you realized something warm and thick was flowing over your hand. Jerking back to reality with an eep! you stared at your appendage and the innocent clear little water droplets running down your palm. You thumped your fist into your forehead as you grumbled to yourself.

"... I fucking hate that memory…" You push your wet hand across forehead and pull your hair back with a frustrated grunt. Just water.

Hunting up some cereal, milk, and a bowl, you crunched through a simple breakfast, because screw making anything complicated while you were in a mood. I mean really, what was with that entire fucked up group? You mused at your spoon in between bites, eyebrows scrunched up as you stared at your distorted reflection and imagined it as your dream-you.

You were, truthfully, more ticked at the two people at the center of this than at the entire context of the last two days. Operative words being 'more ticked' there. But, anyway, planning how to murder a vampire in his sleep and then find a way to kill the Slayer. Blood and all that goes with the actual murdering...
That thought immediately made you snarl. Guzzling down the rest of your food you dropped the bowl into the sink with a thunk. Blowing out a breath, you leaned on the counter to deliberate over what you were going to do today.

"Wasn't I trying to distract myself?" You said to the air in front of your nose as you looked up. The ceiling didn't really answer, from a certain perspective which you quite liked to have, but the Fog did. Attendance required… it sang into your eyes.

And that call to attention just made my day.

Skipping up the stairs you were in the Sanctum within a handful of breaths.

She was floating regally in the center of the room, book hanging below her hand as she idly perused the pages with half an eye. She looked well today, her expression flat and lips shaping neither a frown nor a smile. That reassuring expression certainly pulled your spine straighter. Can't disappoint her…

You sank to a knee in front of the door easily, waiting for your Lady to speak her will. A half a breath later and the book thumped shut and twirled through the air to float beside her head. The weight of her black gaze was a comfort on your shoulders.

"Good." Her voice was sibilant and carried a choir of high notes, like bells. "We shall finish the first step today." She said as she folded her hands at her waist and waited.

You knew what she wanted with barely any thought. Pushing up to a standing position, you walked to the shelves, though you wanted to run, and carefully pulled the Glove down from its perch. The thing was still swaddled in its cloth and you were careful as you handled this weapon, wary of what it could do. And you were practically buzzing with impatience, your toes trying to twist themselves into happy little knots like they always do when you are excited.

With a gesture of one hand she directed you to come closer. She hung there patiently while you carefully entered the circle and held the Glove, the cloth falling away. While outwardly unchanged, you could see new things in it. Shadows of plates and threads strung between distant pieces. Hmmm… You wondered at that as she plucked up the weapon with her lower arms and lowered herself closer to the base earth, as she would called it.

You could see her influence all over the piece of armor shift in their motions when she touched it. Like a stream of fluid, running beneath the plates. Going somewhere...an image of something like your dream lay at the end of that path.

A flick of her hand dispelled your focus, and had you making space as she set the dangerous little thing on the ground, gracile feet still never meeting the floor as she did so. There was a part of you that was satisfied just by watching your Lady float, because the grace she had in the air was surreal.

Humming filled the air, and you added your own voice to it without hesitation. As before, the central device lit up, encircling the Glove. The Fog laced into the walls pushed forward, and you watched the outside world grow distant, and less able to meddle with the contents of this room. Hovering in the circle, her mantle hissing over the stones, your Lady beckoned you forward.

Very carefully, you sat at the other end of the ritual space, the Glove set between you. This time the opening wasn't pointed towards you. A prickle on your scalp made you look up.

"This Glove is mine now, in all ways that matter to us." Her gaze held yours as she continues. "Now I gift it to you, as the first step in my desires." The emphasis she put on that last word was delightfully familiar. "But…" She tilted her head, minutely, prompting you.

"But it is not the only first step. It is also the first step in me becoming more than I am now." You do not waver at all in this statement. I know what I want, and it isn't to be just what I am now. I've had quite enough of that for a lifetime. Your Lady seems to know these thoughts. As she should. She nods, and your gratefulness that this being found you makes itself known as butterflies in your gut.

"Yes it is." her voice is quiet. Then her gaze sharpens and she twists, becoming that thing you had seen when she told her stories or challenged and won against the Master which makes you giddy just to contemplate.

"You are so much more than a simple human. This fact is written in your Soul by myself. You will be a Knight." She smiled, a full smile, as she spoke. And the weight of that title pressed onto your shoulders, almost bending your neck. But I want such burdens. They are more than what I had. And so the weight is bearable. Your lady raises her hand, and the book follows her implicit directive to float above it.

Everything is ready now.

You watch the power of your Lady rise up and out and through her like she is throwing open a door. And as it circles, the both of you begin to chant, you following in her lead without need for direction.

"Stat a esse servum, pignerata in
Fidelitatis fidelis.
Quam obedientiae fidele firmumque est et vere est
Ut a Regina.

A stat miles paratus cura superflua eius
Gladio.
Ea fuisse clipeum eius corpus per vices suas ex se
De nulla fides.

Fortis animus ibi erit tu noctis
Rumpe.
Apud eundem, Denuo et dicet ascendens, adhæsit anima eius
Ut Velit."

It hits you like a fist, crushing your face and blotting out your vision with red spots. Through sheer stubbornness you stayed exactly where you were, your breath sawing in and out of you but providing no air. Your hands were crushing into your thighs as you sat under the weight trying to literally explode out of you. Behind the buzzing filling your skull, like what you idly think eating a live wire must feel like, you knew what you had to do next.

So, you slowly reach out with your left hand for the Glove you can barely see. Warm, almost burning metal meets your hand and you grasp at it spasmodically. Its heavy, heavier than the weight in my chest. You can barely lift the Glove at all. But your Lady is there, and you want to be more than what you are.

Very slowly the Glove is lifted, the weight in your chest acting as a strange sort of lever. Raising your other arm is another Herculean task, every twitch of your limbs making the weights you're struggling against grow. You still do it, however.

Then it's the final plunge. It reminds you of drinking wine with your grandmother, that moment right before you tip over. There's a laugh in your throat as you fall in and pass through the image of a bejeweled grail with a splash.

And then everything on your right side is cold. Like you just laid down in a frozen lake. Have I even been breathing? You can't tell around how hard your teeth are smashing together in the mind numbing chill.

Fingers? No reaction. Wrist? A block of numb ice. Arm? Nothing. Then you try to move your shoulder and a wave of needle-like sensation surges down your arm and all of the energy inside your head drains out after it. Like a cup being tipped over.

Clang!

"Hah… hah… hah." You're bent over your knees, chest heaving as the last spurts of your laughter pop out. When you try to rise, and nothing works right, you realize how dazed you are. Nothing seems to be in the right place, especially your right arm. Getting your other hand under you is arduous, but you manage to push up and look around through eyes unobscured by stunning amounts of magical energy.

Latria is there, hovering serenely hands clasped genteely. The kick to her lips and bright light in her eyes tells you she is pleased with whatever's happened. You take that as direction to look at yourself.

Well, I have my legs, that's good. Arms? On your left you got your fleshy arm, as expected, and on your right is a smooth limb of metal plates and chain link and cool as hell spikes. Seamlessly fused with your arm at the middle of your bicep, the spines it previously had become something like a cuff on a fancy ballroom glove. The entire thing seems to have replaced the skin and most of the arm itself.

Wow.

Turning it over you stare at the palm and chuckle. It doesn't feel odd at all. You don't notice any difference at all, which you guess is why you didn't immediately cotton onto the change. Running your hand over the fingers just tells you that it feels like cold skin, that has absolutely no give.

Looking up at your Lady through your frizzy red locks, when did that happen, you meet her eyes and smile.

"Thank you." Your voice is hoarse, probably from the laughter, and quiet. But you still see her react to it. A brief smile of her own, as disturbing as a part of you still finds that expression, while other parts are buoyed by it. You hear her mantle hiss over the stones as she drifts closer, and you feel her cold hand alight on your head.

"Now you can truly serve me, as you were meant to Annie." Her voice is lilting and girlish in a way you have heard only once, when you had so much fun hunting that vampiress. At pressure from her hand, you look up into her pit like eyes, set in their field of pale flesh.

"Do as I wilt Annie. That is my Law, which you have learned so well, and yet it has never been spoken." She looks down at you from where she hangs in the air, and her hand feels almost motherly. "I know what lives inside you… and they are much like what lives in me. They are good." Her tone is musing, whimsical as her gaze goes somewhere else briefly, before returning.

"For now…," you feel a distant ripple on the edge of your sight, but she does not pause for more than a moment. "What I will is that you become my Knight, and invite the Slayer in." Her tone is amused, very slightly, at this development. You nod, almost bowing. And then you rise. The weight isn't gone, but you hold it tight and turn to go.

Leaving the circle is like getting your sinuses unclogged abruptly, and you take a deep breath as you feel the indrawn shriek of your Lady pulling her seeming into place. Then you exit the Fog Gate and the power hanging all around you sloughs off and disappears.

With a second of thought, you turn to your room. Slipping in, you pull your coat off the hook and swing it on in a single motion. Then you trot out and thud down the stairs into the foyer, pausing to slide on your boots besides the door. Opening the door you immediately hear the Slayer and head for the gate.

The stream of muttered, "Ow, ow, ow, ow," makes her predicament quickly apparent. As you waltz across the yard to see what is going on you relax in the warm feeling of the sun on your hair, still slightly wet.

Her stream of pained noises tapers off as you walk into view. Raising your metal hand in a wave, causing it to glint in the light, you call out to her.

"Hey Buffy! I see you ran afoul of our security! Gimme a sec." Your voice is cheerful as you reach the gate.

"Ah, ow, hi Annie." The teen's voice is subdued, her head down as she shakes out her right hand and rubs it with her other hand.

Clank-zzt. You can see her flinch at the noise, fingers briefly twitching, and then look up at you pulling the gate open with your metal hand. Confusion makes her eyebrows shoot up as she stares at that hand. You can see the ward respond to your presence by flexing and opening a way.

"Come on in." Your tone is cordial as you beckon her in with your other hand. She twitches and blinks, her hand falling to her side. Then she seems to get over her surprise and remember what to do.

"Right, right." She shakes her head and walks in around you as you push the gate closed and the ward flexes back into place. Her eyes are studiously not looking at the Glove as she walks besides you to the door.

Hmm, how very uncomfortable she seems. But I can fix that.

You open the door and let her in first, to a quiet "Thanks," from the teen.

Stepping in you dust off your hands, subtle clanking coming from the motion which makes the Slayer unwillingly angle toward you in curiosity. You gesture with it towards the table.
"Have a seat. Your hand okay?" You ask calmly.

She shakes her hand again while smiling awkwardly, eyes darting around nervously. "Yeah, yeah its fine, just tingles. You said your 'security' did that. Do you have a magic electric fence or something?" She bubbles on behind you as you walk into the kitchen, past your Lady's chair. Ah, need to remember to steal the Master's chair. Idle thought passing you grab a pitcher of ice water from the fridge and three glasses pinched precariously between your fingers. The pitcher feels nice in your right hand, the cold is very comfortable on your metal skin.

Humming a little tune you turn the corner and find her seated almost in your Lady's seat, by accident. Normally, this would add onto your desire to murder the fuck out of her, but at the moment that was just an intellectual thing and not a real impulse. The Lady has gifted me her will after all, which I've been following all along.

Setting a cup down in front of her and in front of Latria's seat, you fill hers from the pitcher, her eyes unwillingly following your hand. Once finished you sit down beside her, on her left and pour yourself some water as you respond to her question.

"No, that isn't an electric fence." You chuckle slightly. "Latria set that up." You pause for just a moment, letting her discomfort stretch as you finish pouring. Picking up the glass in your left hand you prop your chin on your metal palm and look at her coyly.

"It's fine to ask about this you know?" You wiggle your fingers on your chin. The Slayer looks mortified to have been caught out, eyes widening, and then probably embarrassed at the inevitability of getting caught out. Something like that, you think, as you make a note to get better at that kind of reading.

She fiddles with her glass, twisting it this way and that before she gives up dawdling and stares directly at the metal hand jutting out of your sleeve.

"Okay, so...what is the story with the cool metal gauntlet-spikey-thingy?" She asks in a rush, one of her hands waving in your direction.

You lean back and stretch said 'gauntlet-thingy' out into the open, beginning to explain with a wiggle of your fingers as the sleeve of your coat drops to reveal the chain and plate on the wrist.

"This here is a gift from Latria. Something she found in her travels and kept a hold of for a while." You set your elbow on the table and start gesturing around loosely with your cool hand as you continue. "I'm helping her with her hunting, and she wanted to give me the ability to make vampires shit thunderbolts and then die."

The Slayer's face blanks as she blinks in surprise, trying to parse what you just said. You quirk a smirk and segue into your next move.

"Don't tell your mom I said that. One girl to another." You say with a wink, sardonic, before becoming serious and your brow furrowing. You look aside, "Poor woman has had way too much recently." That statement amuses the knowledge you have that she annoys Latria, and will thus probably die sometime in the near future. A part of you idly wonders if you will be required for that as you watch the Slayer flinch slightly, though she tries to hide it by taking a drink.

You are sympathetic really, and lean closer to her. She looks discomforted, shoulders hunched up slightly before she sighs.

"I, well, actually wanted to get out of the house, and was curious so… I asked around and... yeah, I guess I ended up here." She says aimlessly with a shrug and a pouty frown, tracing a finger along her drink. Left unspoken is that she got out before her mom could remember to ground her for the foreseeable future.

Which she's likely not going to actually escape, if your memories of your mother are anything to go by, but that's neither here nor there.

The silence on your side is comfortable, but you can tell, it is layered all over her face, that the Slayer is feeling awkward. Why else are you here, little girl? Then she glances around, looking curious again, her gaze dancing past the glass at the head of the table.

"Where is Latria? Is she here?" She asks, and you think she's probably covering for another topic. You are okay with that and deign to answer it honestly.

"She's upstairs in her Sanctum," You wave your metal hand upwards as you take a drink, "...working on some demonology research. I think it had something to do with immaterial creatures." You blink slightly at those words just popping out at the end, and make a note. Speaking up again are you, my eyes?

The Slayer looks interested, and then rapidly loses that interest when you mention 'demonology' and 'immaterial'.

"'Immaterial' huh, is that like, invisible?" She says while making little spooky motions with her hands. You wave your cup, ice clinking slightly.

"More or less, sometimes can pass through walls." You say casually, reclining with your flesh arm over the chair back, hanging onto your cup with your fingertips. She makes a mou of distaste.

"Sounds way too tricky for me. Just give me something I can just, ya know, stake." She says while making a overarm staking motion with one hand. Then she glances at you, and your relaxed posture.

The uncomfortable, for her, silence rises again as you wait patiently. You have all the time in the world. Eventually she seems to find her courage, and seems to hit upon an idea as her eyes twitch between you and your glove. They light up as her mouth springs open.

"Have you gotten a chance to use that yet? The whole 'crap thunderbolts' thing?" She gets out awkwardly, hands fiddling with her glass. Though there's a hint of teenage fascination with 'cool' things under it.

You chuckle. "Just got it today so, sure, why not. You offering some hunting action?" You say lightly, one eyebrow arched. She sags in relief slightly at you being the one broaching the subject and doesn't notice. She nods, blonde hair bouncing.

"Yeah. I figured, hey I'm here, they hunt demons, I hunt demons, might be fun right?" She says, some energy returning to her as she waves her hands around. And she looks at the glove, "And with that it should be a stomp." She grins.

You rub your chin with your right hand, and damn that feels awesome, actually pondering the question while trying not to geek out too hard. Latria may or may not want to come, she might actually be busy come to think of it, if your little premonition blooms into something more sooo…

"I'm willing," The Slayer's face lights up, "Just gotta let Latria know so she doesn't come looking, if she's too busy to come herself." You half shrug. You reach out your metal hand for a shake.

"It'll be fun to work with you. Sundown, central cemetery?" You ask as she gingerly grabs your proffered hand. Wondering at the material slightly as her manicured nails click against the shiny iron.

She smiles. "Works for me. I uh, hope Latria won't be too busy?" She asks, hopefully, as she lets go.

You raise a hand, "Even if she can't go with us initially, I fully expect her to show up later. She wants to see me use this cool thing as much as I do." You say jovially as you wave your doom glove around. The girl rises from her seat.

"Well then, I uh better go back before Mom gets even angrier." She goes to open the door and you rise to follow, causing her to look over your shoulder.

"Let me open the gate for you, so the ward resets behind you." You say as you pass and open the door for her. Following behind her you ponder those two little words you spat out unconsciously. Hmm, I wonder what my lightning would do to something immaterial.

Pulling ahead of her, the pair of you crunch across the yard and reach the gate in companionable silence. As before you reach out with your right hand and the wards recognize you, bowing to a higher power and getting out of your way. They part for the Slayer as she leaves your property. She turns back and smiles with a wave, bouncing on her feet.

"Bye Annie! Thanks for the drink, see ya later!" She hollers as she walks backwards down the street. You wave slightly as well as you close the gate with a clang. The ripple going across your shoulders tells you that your Lady is descending the stairs inside, so you hurry back.

Your trot carries you into the house, past the kitchen table and picking up the used glasses to put in the sink while you rummage around in the cabinets under it for the wine. By the time you are pouring the wine into her glass you can feel her behind you. You finish and turn to look.

And there she is, feet hanging elegantly above the stairs as she trails a hand along the banister, her face flat but her eyes locked onto you. You start speaking and stand attentively beside her chair as you wait for her to arrive.

"You have a few things that deserve your attention, my Lady." She inclines her head, her posture saying you can pause while she seats herself. Thanks for the etiquette lessons grandma. You do so, staying silent until she floats over to her chair and sits. At her raised hand you turn and pull out your own chair at her right hand, where the Slayer sat.

With the both of you settled and your Lady looking curiously at her glass and the bottle on the table, you begin to speak again. "Most of what needs your attention involves the Slayer. She touched the outer ward without being paralyzed. Instead she only received a moderate shock by all appearances, which left her only temporarily in pain." Your Lady's eyes narrow and twitch towards you as a brief hint of teeth reveals her displeased surprise. You clench your metal hand in your lap and return to your murderous thoughts while continuing to speak.

"Further, she wished to go hunting with me. After teasing out that desire with an offer of my own, in accordance with your will, she accepted." At this your Lady's eyes and lips return to neutrality and she tilts her head right. A clear sign of interest and acceptance.

"I will share your presence then, as we did while I hunted the Rat King." Her voice tinkles and whispers in your ears as her porcelain lips shape the words and she reaches for the glass with an upper hand. "What more is there for you to tell me, my Knight?" She says as she bares her teeth. She wants whatever you have to say.

"Premonition in unconscious words. An immaterial invader is coming to your town, soon." You are absolutely confident in this, though you wish you had a better grasp on your sight so you could say more about whatever was coming.

"Hmm…" She hums in thought, her eyes still attentive, until she takes an idle sip of the wine. Then her eyes widen and her posture tenses. The wine is then tipped back into her throat without a breath, the column of her throat staying entirely unmoved. "Hmm… more." She demands when finished, and you happily comply, filling the glass again. She takes it again, her fingers clinking on her chair arm as she ponders your words and now takes greedy samples of your wine. She comes to a decision when the second glass is empty and sets it onto the table with a deliberate clunk. She looks at you.

"You will guard me while I make a short study of my books then… and lock that girl out." She rises without changing posture, legs dipping down gently as she drifts towards the stairs. You follow. Her mantle trails on the stairs slightly as she floats up them and you stay a polite step behind it. The Fog Gate parts easily around you both and she ghosts over to her seat, settling in it while you take up a standing position by the door.

One hand holding the metal wrist of the other at your waist, you stand and wait for her next directive.

***​

Hours pass, with you trying to coax something more out of your sight, as you guard your Lady and contemplate how to defeat the Master should he present himself before you, since they go hand in hand.

Unfortunately, your sight has been unhelpful and you haven't succeeded in getting anything thus far. Now someone in your position might be tempted to clench a hand or sigh or grind their teeth in response to the inevitable frustration. But you stayed close to your Lady as she first perused some of her books, then began gliding along the property wall, magic flaring in her wake, because that's all you really wanted to do right now.

Your Lady had also been reading all this time, books bobbing around her as she methodically goes through one task after another. Currently you are both standing by the front gate, though hidden from the street by the expanse of the outer wall as your Lady puts her finishing touches on the improvements to the wards.

Her stillness right now is the one which makes her look the most like a porcelain statue, out of all of her various postures that you know, in your opinion. The only thing that moves is her hand, and even then it only moves slightly, a finger tapping on her dress every once and awhile.

From the fading light on the back of your neck you know the sun will be setting soon. You do not spare thought to the Slayer, merely waiting until the time you planned to leave arrives. So it is with some surprise that you react to your heart clenching to a stop in your chest as it judders to the side and a vision of a face stabbing into your sight.

"Agh!" Your cry echoes through the yard as your hands fly up to cover your burning eyeballs. You hunch over and take a step back to thump into the exterior wall, the wards cradling you. Ow! Motherfucker! Then you feel the Hellmouth wrap a spikey, dry grip around your throat. It feels like a scaly hand crushing your jugular and the pain is briefly stunning.

Then the cold touch of your Lady brings you back, and you abruptly realize that the feeling is gone. It came and went so quickly that what you were reacting to was just a memory. You breathe. Then you cough and rise to look at your Lady, scanning the yard for threats in the corner of your eye. Her expression is dark, her black eyes sparking with something you can't read.

"Something has changed my Knight. I think our invader has arrived."

You nod slowly, swallowing down the shakes from that horrid feeling. Still watching.

"Go, hunt with the Slayer. I have the means to search for him now, he lacks subtlety." Her tone is that eager hungry thing like it was when you hunted Darla and a part of you despairs that you will not be able to join her from the beginning. But, you can manage.

For now it is time for you to hunt with your new toy.

What does Annie treat her toy as?

[] A horse for her Lady. She uses it as a means to carry herself with power and to reach far and strike powerfully.

[] A sword for her Lady. She uses it as a means to kill, brutally and in the middle of the fight as a sign of her Lady's glory.

Where does Latria look first for this invader?

[] The School. Perhaps the creature was attracted to the Slayer.

[] The Bronze. Does something immaterial enjoy the sound of music? She wishes to know.

---

Weird tidbit for this update: First time I used "scalp" in this entire quest.

Other than that, we're going to be seeing more of Annie this Episode, because really this one is about her in a lot a ways. E: credit to @Lazy Minx for the dream opening.

Vote will close Wednesday the 24th 6:00 pm UTC.

Spoiler: English Chant

"A servant stands there, pledged in faithful
Allegiance.
Her fealty is leal, and truly made
To a Queen.

A Knight stands ready, grasping for her
Sword.
Her shield her body, ward against they
Of no Faith.

The Soul is strong here, and it shall be
Forged.
Anew she will rise, her Soul cleaved
To Her Wish."

 

[BungieONI]

Episode 8, Part 2
"Flutter of Iron"​

The night air is dancing through your hair and trying to disturb individual strands with gleeful hands as you stand in the shadow of a tree, feet caressed by the grass, and body shrouded by the shade. It fails. You are a pillar of magic hidden under a spell, while your mind flows outward and inspects the mortal built school building. No part of you moves in that air, not even your hair.

So few… A part of you comments as you count the dearth of Souls in the area. One, two. No one I recognize.

The rumbling of the Hellmouth shudders over your skin, sweeping counter-clockwise in a cycle when it deigns to move in a direction other than "violent turbulence" at all. And that cycle is new. In this change you can feel the lack of subtlety in the intruder's touch. The memory of the taste of his influence on your Knight bubbles back to the surface and you hiss over it internally while you stand unmoving.

You are waiting for a sign from the pile of stones in front of you. You know that such a creature will be drawn to places of power like the Hellmouth. Every creature you have met so far has been. And since the creature is unburdened by a physical form, your physical senses are pointless except as mediums of transferring your more esoteric insights.

The scrying connection you have to Annie is a trickle while you wait. Happiness, watchfulness, these things are apparent from the little glimpses of her surroundings that you feel in that trickle. One metaphorical finger resting on it.

Hmm, there are not even many animals. You note, as your thoughts flit back to how silent the night is, and has been since before you arrived. Since you each went your separate ways.

A finger twitches, curling, before you stop moving. It confuses you until you catch onto the path your thoughts would have gone down. The echo of influence that creature tried to exert on your Knight while she gazed upon its wake. You smooth out your dress with one hand, listening to the trickle for a moment. Patient exuberance. With that in mind you step out of the shadow and stride across the field.

You walk directly to a wall of the school where a window into a classroom sits and jam your hand through the glass pane with a small crash-tinkle. Pulling it open is easy after that and you glide in unhindered. The room is pitch black except for light from the window. The smooth floor tiles are cool as you crack the inner door to the hall and pour through it gracefully, followed by a subtle cloud of shadows. What am I feeling?

You don't know. But something is touching off your senses. Something, like a barely there smell in the air, and the need to find it is pushing you forward. Troublesome that it is too small for me to define accurately. That is always unwelcome, though it was vanishingly rare, before. Passing by door after door after unremarkable and unimportant door as you patrol the halls does not bring you closer to whatever it is. Perhaps it was something there and gone again and you are reacting to the memory of something tiny.

Yes, that makes sense.

So you slow and consider for a moment what to do, cast in shadow by a pillar and one of the quietly buzzing lights on the ceiling. You remember the escapee. One of many, but this one had manipulated most of her own Soul and replaced it with the shrouding embrace of a Cloak. Hiding from your insight except as a tiny flicker for a time, squirreling away in corners and side tunnels.

You found her eventually. Caught her with my many arms and ate her. By using an inevitable and regular pattern, circling the halls of your Tower. You straighten, and begin to trace out a similar path through these bland halls you are in now. Now you are not seeking the tiny feeling which you can only remember. Now you are waiting for it to make a mistake and circling the faint memory which points to where it might be.

The two Souls burn around your path, lit oil lanterns in your mind. One is slowly moving in a winding path through halls beside you, around a corner at a three way intersection ahead.

When you flutter past its hall as a shade, you hear squeaky wheels and a rhythmic slosh-slosh. A janitor then. Unimportant. The brief glimpse of long hair, a dress, and mop tell you such. You leave her be and move on, unnoticed.

Your eyes wander, sliding over the painted walls and the flyers posted on them. You have been here before, the library is down a hall to your right, around a corner and then down another hall. No one is there. Before, you had paid no attention to the walls of this place, they were beneath your interest and still are. But now you do pay attention to the flyers when your eyes happen on them. Impulse and one of the things in your mind, with its little grabby three fingered hand, reaches out from behind your eyes for the colorful pieces of paper.

So, you read.

Art Club Needs Your Clever Hands! Visit this Tuesday!

Ignored.

Crisis Center. Call This Number!

Ignored.

Overwhelmed by History, Try These Easy Steps!

More and more colorful pieces of trash flick past. Then a black and purple flyer with a giant splash of gold lettering catches your eye.

Come To The Party! The Smashers Are Coming To Rock this Town! @ The Bronze this Friday

The thing reaching for the flyer is summarily killed and eaten when it tries to push that little bit too far. You'll keep it in mind. Maybe Annie knows who they are? You idly wonder about it and then set it aside to focus on your hunt. Your circle now takes you closer to the second Soul.

You are not familiar with this part of the school, but glances into classrooms reveal rooms full of glass beakers and other alchemical or chemical equipment. You are not completely sure which, and your interactions with this town make you somewhat doubtful to begin with.

But now that you are here, you can feel more. This has gone faster than the previous time. This pleases you. Not even a full circle and you can feel more than faint memories of the sensation. When you check, the other Soul is close now, barely four rooms away. Slipping on quiet feet down the hall you eventually come to a cracked door and peek in slowly.

Within is a room full of desks, atop which sit strange devices, filling the room with a sleepy hum of machinery. Your memories of reading books in the library weeks ago would say these are computers. The room is nearly pitch black, except for the little flock of blinking lights on the computers casting a faint green light.

The Soul is in the restroom to your right, just a little ways down the hall. You can smell a faint astringent plant odor mixed with smoke. Not going to be an issue. You quickly decide. Certain of where they are you turn back and parse what you are looking at.

A presence lingers in this room, jittering rapidly between the walls, the ceiling, the computers, before cycling back strongest at a device in the middle of the room. Piecing together the details takes a minute, during which you are prepared to incapacitate the Soul if it emerges from its hole. What you gather together is a lightning flavored tarpit, releasing a cloud of narcotic fumes.

A seducer.

A manipulator.

Really, he is a poseur. I can taste the crudity of his technique.

The Soul next door seems quiescent. So you pull your seeming around you securely and slip inside for now and pull the door closed in silence. The room is dropped into darkness, deep enough you can only see due to your inhumanity and the tiny lights.

And you listen.

You are waiting to see if there is a change in the movements of the darting feeling. There is not. Carefully, you slide your feet forward, a little bit at a time. You have to edge around the desks here and there, because their wandering arrangement around a larger desk forces you to maneuver through them to get through the dark room. When you stalk past that larger desk, a glance at the top tells you that it is a teacher's desk. Jenny Calendar.

An expert on these devices then? Her scent lingers around the desk, feminine and somewhat similar to Giles. They both smell a bit like the school does. The mass of humanity has always smelled rather the same to you, the meaty scent of their bodies and fear for their lives. With little facets like this one sprinkled around.

You slip past and move on.

A few more steps and a turn around a little huddle of computers and you reach the device the thing is most frequently returning to. Standing beside it in the shadows, the air buzzes in your ears like bees around a flower. The front glass-like portion, the "screen" from what you recall, is dark. A little spherical device with a lens sits on top of it, unpowered, a cable emerging from the back.

There are buttons around the bottom edge of the device, and a board with letter and number buttons sitting next to a oval object with two large buttons connected via cable to the computer. You tilt your head left in thought. I do not want to intrude onto it's unknown domain where I know little and it may know much. How to draw it out…

There is a click. You stare at the computer besides you. You accidentally bumped into one of the little oval devices and the device's humming is kicking up. You know this is no threat, you sense no harmful magic, so you just watch the screen light up, your eyes easily accommodating the light as it makes a little bonnng-trill noise.

There is a reaction now from the trace of the creature. You see it slither into and then out of the computer as it briefly displays a screen with a strange multi colored flag and the words Microsoft Windows 95 on a blue sky and puffy clouds backdrop. Then it changes to a display of rows of little pictures to the left on a bland blueish backdrop with a tiny white thing sitting in the center.

The trace comes back and then lingers there for a moment longer than before. Ah. Got you.

You will continue prodding this computer and get the thing's attention. Then once you do, you have a choice as to how to go about interacting with the being. Given its nature it will likely help you communicate with it, because it will want to corrupt other beings.

From it's reactions you think it may not actually be able to sense the physical world except through these devices as well.

How does Latria approach this being?

[] Trap the trace with your magic, intimidate it and frighten the thing into fleeing for a safe haven.

[] Lie and pretend to be a student with a troubled school life, ripe pickings for cult material. Lead it into a false sense of security and learn more about its manipulation methods.

***​

You are driving through the darkening streets, tapping out a jaunty beat on the wheel with your metal fingers and whistling to a happy radio tune.

Your lady is waiting patiently right now, you can tell that much because of the link she made. After making that she ran through the incantation for the Glove which now exists as your right arm, and you drove her to the school and left her to go to your own task.

The waiting required by the drive is messing with you though, making you flex your metal joints impatiently. You have so many ideas that you want to try out!

So it is with you raring to go beneath a calm mask that you pull up into a sidestreet by the cemetery and exit. Best to leave your car out of sight. Don't want the vamps connecting it to you.

Hmm, where would the Slayer be?

You jog around a corner and across the street, tromping down the sidewalk besides the iron fence. You keep a careful distance from the ivy running through the construction.

A minute or so later and you slow to a stop in front of the gate, feet clacking on the pavement. The gate is closed, a dull chain wrapped tightly around the bars and secured with a padlock. Looking around you see no sign of the girl you are supposed to be meeting here. A look up tells you that the sun is getting very close to sundown. Ah, must be a little early. You tilt a hip and settle in to wait.

You don't stare into the cemetery, plotting how to make vampires shit thunderbolts, but it is a close thing only warded off by your need to keep an eye out for the Slayer. So, you are half turned, eyes going between the cemetery's misty grass and the road, while the rest of you listens for trouble. You also don't step towards your gift, it's not quite time yet.

Nothing shows up in the two or three minutes you have to wait, so when you hear something it isn't trouble. Instead it is a little put-put car engine coming up the road behind you. You turn and look back to see a little silver-brown car with the plates 2GPU947 driving up. And there is the Slayer in the passenger seat.

Now who's the guy in the driver's? Looks bookish. A hawkish nose and round glasses perched on it really sells that particular impression. He looks like a… definitely not a Watson. You give them a wave with your fleshy hand, to which Buffy reaches out and waves bouncily.

"Heeeeeeey Annie!" She yells, her voice somewhat obscured by distance and the engine until they stop in front of you and the end of your name dopplers into full volume. You catch a twitch from Definitely Not a Watson, as his official nickname shall be.

Kicking your lips into a smirk, you reply.

"Hey Buffy, hello sir…?" You trail off as they both get out of the car, doors slamming shut with a pair of thud-nks. Definitely Not a Watson looks at you, straightening his suit coat.

"Ah, Rupert Giles at your service." He says genially, offering his right hand for a shake. You oblige him, and giggle like a demon in your head as his eyes fix on the metallic limb suddenly wrapped around his fingers. He's charming.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Giles." I still think Definitely not a Watson is fitting. Or maybe Harker? Naw, he's not puppy like enough for Harker. He seems a bit stunned and befuddled by your metallic limb, his mouth hanging open like he is about to say something. He's still shaking your hand.

You give a little, tiny, squeeze and he jolts in surprise slightly. "Oh uh right…" He looks up at your face. "Where did you find such an intriguing piece of magic, young lady?" His honest curiosity is so cute. You have to restrain another pack of giggles. He's still shaking your hand.

"My hand Mr. Giles." You say, smiling.

"Yes?" He says, absentmindedly.

"You're still shaking it." Your smile quirks up in the corner and you look down.

He blinks and looks down himself. "Oh uh! My apologies, ah yes…" He drops your hand like it's on fire and pushes his glasses up nervously. You glance over his shoulder, seeing the sun dip below the buildings, and see Buffy looking at you both with an intensely confused expression like she just witnessed something she thought was impossible. Then she looks more specifically at Giles and whatever thoughts come make her screw her face up like she just sucked on a lemon.

Turning and keeping your smile in place, you gesture at the gate with a tilt of the head and gesture of your right hand. "Shall we?"

"Yes, yes we should, one moment." He says as he strides past you, fishing into a coat pocket for some keys. You and the Slayer, as she sidles up beside you watch as he fiddles with the chain. "What did you tell him?" You whisper to her as you lean over slightly. She glances at you and flushes very briefly in embarrassment before looking between you and the professor. Then she seems to put that little encounter completely out of her mind and focuses on the present.

"Eh, don't worry, just that you were cool." She responds with a chuckle and a shrug. You sigh internally and focus on the gate creaking open and Buffy hopping past you. With the way she bounces I think she's as excited to kill things as I am.

You follow, past Giles, and take a breath of the cemetery air as your booted feet flatten the grass. You don't try to keep up with the girl, walking slowly so Giles can catch up after re-locking the gate. He does, and settles into step besides you as the Slayer leads you both deeper into the graveyard.

"You want to go first, or should I?" You ask obliquely, still smirking and tilting your head to look at him while you tap metal fingers against your hip.

He looks at you and considers something for a tiny moment, before gesturing to you. Your arm, specifically. "I take it that that is no simple piece of armour?" His tone is actually quite genial and non-judgemental, though quiet so the girl up ahead doesn't hear. You manage to not narrow your eyes at the hint of disturbed concern he can't quite hide, resisting your reaction as you ponder how to reply. You decide to be direct.

"Nope. It's a gift from Latria." And you're quite proud to say that to this man. He hums in thought.

"A weapon then?" He asks astutely.

You nod and fill in some of the blanks, carefully leading him to something specific. "I'm doing what amounts to field tests. We both know how it works, essentially a channel for lightning which is quite potent. But if I'm going to be using it, I need to get a feel for how it works, live. It's also removeable when needed." You say the lie with an entirely straight face, trying to soothe his concerns with a kind tone.

He hums again then looks at you. "I understand. Do be careful though. We wouldn't want to lose you in an accident." His eyes are searching, but truthful.

You chuckle. "I'm touched, thank you." You turn your head and smile at him. "So what about yourself? You look like you've been doing this for a while. Your job is to help her…" Here you tilt your head in Buffy's direction. "Right?" Your tone is non-threatening. He nods, letting out a quiet breath as he adjusts his glasses.

"After a fashion, yes." He seems to be caught by a thought, and then seemingly decides to mention it. "Though it is more than that nowadays, what with her friends." His tone seems chagrined, though you are not totally sure.

You chuckle in sympathy. "I understand." Then you tap your chin with metal fingers and look over at him. "I'm the same way with Latria, though it is just us." Your whimsical tone and words gets an interested look from the man, one eyebrow quirked, before he turns away and sees Buffy having slipped into the distance.

He chuckles. "I can imagine." He shakes his head.

"We should, ah, catch up with her." He says, gesturing with his far hand. You both pick up the pace and catch up to Buffy while she meanders around a large… half mausoleum? You're honestly not sure what the stone thing crouched before you is, except that it is neither a sarcophagus or a mausoleum. Weeeeeird.

Giving a mental shrug you quirk a brow at Buffy. "So, let me guess. Vamps like to sleep in the graves." You say jokingly.

The girl brings up a hand and gives it a wiggle. "Sorta. They also… well kinda bury their new recruits? Newbies? Babies?" She shrugs while her lips screw up in disgust. "Either way me and Giles," He winces at this butchuring of grammar, very subtly. "Like to watch the graves, make sure any new ones ain't rising."

"Huh." Is your non-committal response. A stakeout then?

You can work with that, pleasure flowing through you to the beat of that jaunty tune.

Giles pulls out a book from his coat, a softback journal of sorts with no title and a little barcode stamp on the back, and takes a relaxed pose against the side of the surface sarcophagus thing. Buffy seems a tiny bit awkward as it occurs to her that she just invited someone to basically grave watch with them, looking around nervously. Then she is hit by an idea.

"Annie, wanna patrol with me up through there?" She whispers tensely, while pointing northwards. Seems like she has her game face on now.

You whisper back. "Sure." And follow alongside the girl, caressing your metal skin lightly with your flesh fingers. The Slayer doesn't seem exactly talkative, but you're fine with that. You take the chance to turn outwards, looking along a row of gravestones to your right. You push yourself to see what may be lingering out there.

The Glove tastes like ozone in your blood, dancing around in your tongue and surging down your throat like water. The dirt is soft and comforting, but jealous. It is tainted by something, you can feel it squirming under your feet. The misty air is silent and the fog is slower than molasses. Lady Latria has curiosity in her gullet as she pokes at something carefully.

So, nothing here but old death. You flip your hair a bit. And enjoy the silence surrounding the both of you. I need to know more for the Lady. In the distance you can see a lamp, lit, though dimly with the bulb close to going out entirely from the look of it. The shades around it tell you it is your current target, and you see the Slayer regularly measuring the distance between you and Giles. She's the super warrior after, so keeping an eye on her buddies is sensible.

You reach and pass the lamp, curling left to head west. You look around, hand resting on your hip as your weapon hand hangs loosely at your side.

Ozone goblins in your tongue. Grass turning to cut your feet, longer and sharper, meaner. The earth is hard here and the lamp behind you cold as ice. That ice flows over your shoulders like a cloak.

Awwwoooooooooooooooooooooooo! You turn your head at the wolf howl, looking south. You know that howl, even though you have only ever heard it in the future, related to that Willow girl. You can see it rippling through the air in shockwaves and bringing no reaction from the blonde at your side.

The sudden taste of dust makes you look elsewhere. You can't find it, but this is closer. The near past or present, instead of the distant future. You think. You honestly have only a vague sense of what you are doing with all of this, but your stubbornness pushes you forward. Which…

Um.

You cough, and shake your head. Buffy looks at you in concern, her brow furrowed.

"I'm fine, dust in the air or something." You say while raising your hand and waving it casually. You take that moment to try and figure out what the fuck you are looking at.

Arms, hands, arms and arms and arms again all holding flowers dying in the burst of electricity.

Curling horns.

A hand at your throat, stealing your air.

Shaking your head you retreat. Went too odd. You wave a hand at the Slayer.

"Come on!" You say as you speed up. A quick side glance shows her brows smoothing out from being quirked in concern and her eyes dark with the same. Past her Giles is okay, still reading and occasionally looking around with what you think is commendable situational awareness.

Then the dust taste comes back and Buffy is pointing to your left, a little ways into the square you are tracing out. "Over there," Your hand starts coming up, "that dirty looking grave was one we cleared out a little while ago, but they often look like that whether they are filled or not."

The grave in question is capped by a small angel statue, up to hip height. And the ground in front of it is freshly turned earth, some of that dirt having spread to the angel and the surrounding area.

"Hmm." You say, and tap your hip with a metal finger. "Hey, have there been vamps in graves with grass over them?" You ask curiously.

She shakes her head and shrugs. Silence descends again as you continue on the path. Eventually you turn two more corners and return to Giles after tracing out an area similar in shape to a good sized mall parking lot. Buffy walks up to him as he looks up and quirks an eyebrow at her, tucking the book into a jacket pocket.

"Nothing in that end?" He asks, quietly, like she has been talking.

"Nah, I think we should go deeper." She says back, crossing her arms and canting her hips.

He looks around and nods. "I agree." His tone is whimsical, as if he wanted to say more but thought against it. You're not sure what that's about.

You also don't care about their team dynamics to be quite honest so you put it out of your mind. The three of you gather up again and move deeper into the cemetery, towards a dangerous looking patch of trees. Buffy in the lead.

The shadows swallow you up, making it a bit tricky to maneuver over the uneven earth. The three of you somewhat awkwardly, in your opinion, position yourselves to keep your eyes on certain directions as you pass classical tombstones and mausoleums.

This section definitely seems to have gone for the original look. You snark with a mental eye roll.

Which is rather annoying considering you can see barely f-all. About five minutes into the little production Buffy stops and waves you over. She's standing next to a bent oak tree spreading its boughs over her head in a little clearing made by those branches.

Giles speaks up, in a confident tone, barring the pause. "I'll uh… go down this way. Some of these look older and less attended too. Good luck girls." He walks off to your left, west, and leaves the two of you standing beneath the tree.

Buffy misinterprets your lingering look. "He'll be fine. Nothing would want to hurt Giles." Her tone is joking, but relaxed. You look at her and raise an eyebrow, before shrugging and turning to face her.

"So, north, east or south?" You prod at the girl, tilting your head one way and then the other.

"Hmmm…" She scrunches up her brow in thought for a second, hand on her hip, and you watch her soft eyes dart around you both.

"Right… I think south. We haven't been in there very much." She says bluntly, before tromping off, her boots and jeans shielding her from the plant life. You hang back a few steps as you trail after her. You're getting a feeling again.

You tease over the incantation with your brain, and double check Latria. Whew, she's content. Thatsa relief.

You continue after the Slayer girl, trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary. You don't particularly feel like getting up close and personal with these dregs. It's not what the Lady would want after all. So you listen for any would be attackers.

Step, step, step, crunch-step.

Step, step, step, step.

Step-ep, step, step-ep. You try not to react to the second set of steps shadowing you. Did I actually hear something? You wonder as you feel your shoulders tensing unconsciously. And you can't relax, your metal hand jittering slightly. Where's Definitely Not a Watson?

You look over your shoulder and look for him in the shadow of the distant trees out to your right. And very dimly you see him looking over something beneath a tree, flashlight out. Good. The prickles at your neck stand up straighter as you look forward again.

But you don't hear the steps again and everything is quiet, ratcheting your joints tighter and tighter.

It seems to be getting to Buffy as well from the look she shoots you. Her brow is quirked and she's worrying at her lower lip as she meets your gaze and stops. You get closer and look around.

Nothing right now. But that feeling you have under your jacket is telling you that will change…

But it is irritatingly imprecise. You share another glance with Buffy.

"You hear anything?" You ask, half certain invoking the cliche will make these corpsesacks likely following you show up. They do not oblige you.

"Nope." She shakes her head. She looks around, rotating slightly in place while slightly bending her knees. "I don't hear anything actually…" You take a glance up, and your odd vision catches a slightly bouncing branch. You turn both ways slightly, head canted slightly left as you listen and try to pierce the shadows.

"Eh, why'd you girls have to be such spoilsports!" A voice snaps out of the shadows, young and petulant, male.

"Here we were enjoying the show and you just ruin it by reading the fucking script!" The voice continues, this time from the otherside.

Another voice, also young and petulantly disappointed, pipes up from the otherside. "Nothing for it man." There's a breath and then it shouts. "I call dibs on the Slayer! Someone's gonna owe me a hundred bucks hahahahaha!"

"NO, you shit!" the first voice shouts back as the stattaco snap-snap-snap! of branches announces these shitstains approach. You're already turning away from her as Buffy yells, and a meaty thwack digs into your ears as two shadows assault the stake wielding girl. But you can feel something behind you so you don't stop turning.

"Poor bastards, redheads are where it's at. Honestly." A third voice scuffs from the shadows, scratchy from smoking.

Before you can see it you raise your metal arm up, and reach for the sky. The moonlight intensifies as you open your mouth and inhale, glinting off the weapon which is now your arm.

"Tar chugam a chumhacht Myhnegon!"

Now, you were always complimented for your strong set of lungs by your school choir and granddaddy always said you could wake the dead with barely any effort. But the sheer thunderous roaring KRA-BOOOOOOOOOOOM! above your head drowns out your words, the sounds of fighting behind you, and what might be the tiny eep! let out by the slick sack of shit in front of you.

Ozone tingles ram down your raised fingers and your hair crackles while half your vision goes white. "Hahahahahaha!" You can't help it, the smile twists your lips and the laugh belts out as you try not to be knocked off your feet by the wild horse you just grabbed hold of.

The white ends and your arm feels like a solid buzz playing drums on your ribs. Thud, thud goes the roar of your heart in your ears. You see a blur coming towards you and you let go.

"Tar frim!" Fry you little shit!

Pzzzzzzzt-bang!

A massive rope of white lightning rips out of your index finger and wraps around the chest of your target, cackling like a pack of goblins and carving red hot holes in the vamps chest. You have a miniscule moment to enjoy the snapping lines of force which burn fulgurites into the dirt between you, and the frightened brown face of the vamp before it starts screaming.

"Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-pop!"

Splortch goes the vampire in a glorious explosion of red and flaming gibblets evaporating into dust. The sky rumbles and grumbles before another KRA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Slams down and a twisting anaconda of white light links your arm to the clouds. You're ready to go for another shot. You stumble forward and desperately hang onto the beast attached to your shoulder and turn.

It couldn't have taken more than five seconds so you're surprised when you look around to find the last one getting stabbed through the chest as you look. Skreee!

Wow.

Buffy is looking at you in something like shock as well, watching the zap-zap-zap of little Jacob's Ladders snap between your knuckle spikes.

"Unhand me you overgrown ingrate and go back in your hole!" Giles's frustrated shout has both of you snapping to attention and sprinting through the trees. Buffy is faster because she has the confidence to leap over the head stones while you plan a route between them, arms pumping.

You quickly find the prof bent over a vampire half out of the grave, trying to smash it's wrist with a stake. Issue there is that said wrist is connected to a hand which is wrapped tightly around his ankle and is sloppily trying to pull him over and kinda succeeding.

Buffy gets there first and easily kicks the vampire flat without losing step. The thick smack is extremely satisfying to hear.

You're right behind her and grab Giles around the shoulder, pulling him back.

Skreee!

The vampire is summarily executed as Buffy smashes onto its chest and stakes it.

You come out of the moment to realize that all three of you are breathing hard. Giles hardest of all. "Ah, thank you, girls…" The bewildered prof sputters out as he fixes his glasses.

Goddamn that was fun. I need to find more shit to fry.

---

Hurray! Took a bit for this one, but I got my head back in the game! Now I can finish up my last assignment for the semester and move on to the next update.

Happy Thanksgiving! Vote closes at 6:00pm UTC November 16th, Friday.

 

[BungieONI]

So, I got a suggestion from @Lazy Minx for a 500 600 word short interlude, and I decided to fill my Fancy Hat with names that I drew from. I drew Oz.

Spoiler: Had Yoten Haten

---

You are tapping out your beat for the Next Song, currently unnamed, on your hip as you walk out to your van and your buddies. Should I go doo doo doo doooo on the bit where Devon hits "On a wing"? Or should I go dun dunnnn doo do doo? Popping open the garage door in it's little corner next to your kitchen door you peek in and find some of the guys engrossed with music sheets on the hood of your chariot.

"Sup guys!"

Sam looks up, the fourth sheet for the Next Song in his hand, Devon behind him paging through the other seven.

"Hey Oz!" Sam says, the calmly pleased drummer giving you an impromptu paper salute. You smile and lean back a little, tapping your toes in your boot.

"Hey," You cross your arms,"Had an idea for The Next Song."

Sam's eyebrow goes up in his typical temporary fascination.

Devon is completely in the Zone and muttering things like 'I've never known...' and 'on a wing'. Lookin for your last buddy you can hear Hudson muttering in the back of your ride, the bassist popping out into the front seat. Huh. What's up with him? The bassist looks weirded out, beard all scraggly and eyes wide as he scrabbles at something on the dash. You turn away from Sam and speak offhandedly, listening as the radio volume goes up.

"Been reading a bit, and I think we need to get away from Time, because Destiny has more crossover between our first and second verse."

"Ah, I see where you're going there. The wing?" Sam asks you. You nod and give a thumbs up, before pointing in to the zebra-mobile.

"Hey, Hudson you alri--?" You ask, mildly curious. He holds up a finger, which for one is odd cause he never does that, and two the radio goes very very strange.

"Alll mangle," Static, "...kerrrrr bul- you are special." You can feel Sam looking over your shoulder, radiating Spock Eyebrows into the universe.

Hudson turns it up, and then fiddles with the channel knob a hair. Veeerrrrrnn... click. "I have sympathy girl... I'm sorry. You're not alone."

"What the fuck is that shitty demonic soliloquy?" Devon pipes up as he leans in between you and Sam. All eyes are on the radio as it jabbers on into static again. Everyone exchanges looks. Your bassist turns off the radio.

Then Hudson raises a finger and takes a breath. "That was fucking creepy." You completely sympathize with the full body shiver the poor guy suffers from then.

You tilt your head slightly. "Ghost station?"

There's a loud chorus of "Nah," from your mates. You scootch out from the huddle and lean against the fender.

If that isn't a Ghost Station, what is it? It's not regimented, nor would I expect such preaching, from a military channel except outta Iraq. Also, not in Arabic. Secret preacher? Guess cult is likely then. Hmm.

"Weird. I don't think that's going to be useful for if we do a Creepy Song. What about you guys?" You ask of them, curious.

Hudson shrugs. Sam gets a very unenthused expression. Devon scratches his stomach. Maybe, but probably not. No, doesn't fit. Eh not quite, but maybe.

"Yeah, I agree. Eh." You roll a shoulder. Hmm, back to The Peach Blossom Spring... the isolation, self imposed of the spring, and the desire to be 'taken home' by a heroic figure in The Next Song have some overlap. One could argue, Liu Ziji's failure to find the spring utopia is because in the story it is not his... fate. The idea comes together.

"Hey guys. Why don't we title the next song, 'Fate'?"

---

The main update is in the works, don't you worry.

 

[BungieONI]

Episode 8, Part 3
"Rust in the Pipes"​

You gently pull a chair out and sit in front of the computer you accidentally… activated. You're not sure if that is really the right word for what just happened. Regardless, this computer also has a little sphere device, though no lights are visible on the thing. Reaching up behind it you consider breaking it, then think. This course is foolish. Even without this it can likely sense me through some other mechanism I don't understand. I will use it then. You let go. It would be good for me to gain more… understanding of this being.

A plan begins to come together as your eyes slide over the desk and you grab the strange little oval and start experimenting with gentle movements. Why is this thing called a 'mouse' in the encyclopedia? The thought is an idle nuisance, quickly consumed. It doesn't take more than a moment after that for you to figure out the little moving arrow on the screen is linked to what you are doing with the 'mouse'.

You hunch forward, frowning and letting your hair hang messily as you fiddle with the device. It is easy to sense the trace leaping back more and more frequently to this computer and it is easy to slip into a false posture. Scanning along the images on the screen you find them to all labeled simply.

Class Syllabus. E-mail. Programming Tool. Gradebook. School Instant Messenger.

Ah. Something straightforward.

You move the arrow over that last image, a warped flower with seven green petals and a single red petal, and press the first button on the oval. It is awkward to use this 'mouse'. You don't understand the design behind this thing at all, it doesn't sit in your hand sensibly. While you are musing on forcing a human to tell you how this is supposed to work, something comes up on the screen. A little box with another box at the bottom with 'Message' written in it and a blinking vertical black bar.

You look down at the board with all the letters and numbers on it which your encyclopedia called a 'keyboard'. Are they deliberately cryptic for their own amusement? You tilt left a bit before carefully prodding the keys a finger at a time. The message box quickly fills up with gibberish. Hmm. How odd. Why did they do this? You blink at the screen.

Ah. Hmm. This is perfect. I can lure the thing in with sweet nothings.

You can craft a lie for it to drink up like the crude thing it is, a fresh and vulnerable target. To that end memories of a very sad and pathetic prisoner girl come to you. A wonderful little Amy.

The presence is now very close, lingering in the room. Good.

You start worrying at your bottom lip. You search the letter board, looking for a 'clear', 'erase'... Ah, delete. Pressing it clears the message box. Carefully plucking out your message a finger press at a time you begin your deception in ernest.

Guest: I I what am I doing? You shake your head and delete that message. A part of you is amused at this. You "start" again.

Guest: I know there isn't anyone there. Why would there be? But i have to do something. I can't take it anymore. Maybe. Maybe it can be better if I just.

Okay so. There is this horrible horrible pure awful harlot who has gotten her clique to harrass me. No one notices. I'm not even sure anyone doing it actually cares.

They steal from me, call me an idiot, make me look stupid, and worst of all insult my mother by calling the way I dress "horribly uninspired and just trash".

You move the little arrow with the 'mouse' and click the send button sitting near the message box. Your furrowed eyebrows when it doesn't send are a little more real than everything else you've been doing.

Taking a moment you send it in chunks and that works. Then you continue, complaining to nothing with digital lies.

Guest: They've insulted me since the school year started! It's gotten to the point that I can't walk the halls without worrying about someone randomly doing something horrible.

Guest: It doesn't help everything else is going wrong in my life too. New town, new life! Yeah right.

You slump, raising your hands to your face, whose presence you can feel humming in this computer. Shortly a message pops up. From a Malcolm.

MalcolmNumber9: Good Lord. What's wrong with them? That isn't right!

You look up at the ping the computer makes when the message pops up, lowering your hands. The expression you're using brightens, slightly. You felt the trace change, flexing, as this message was created.

Guest: What? There's someone here?

Panic flutters across your face, while you internally smile.

Guest: Who are you!?

MalcolmNumber9: My name is Malcolm, I'm a senior.

You can feel the crude manipulations of the demon reaching through the screen. The scowl on your face relaxes into a faint frown, which is trying to kick up into a smile.

Guest: I'm Amy, a freshman.

MalcolmNumber9: You're new to Sunnydale you said.

You nod and respond.

Guest: yeah. It's been pretty terrible. It's just me and my uncle. You sniff again. That cloying scent you associate with the demon intensifies.

MalcolmNumber9: Ah I get it. My aunt always told me that talking helps. I'm willing to listen if you want to share? And help.

Guest: please.

You take a moment, "thinking" over your response.

Guest: Her name is Buffy. Her and Xander and Willow and the head librarian. Without even seeming to notice they are making my life awful. They never seem to care about what they're saying to me.

Laying a little trap for the demon and the Slayer is so amusing to parts of you.

Guest: It's like I don't exist to them as a person. I'm just a thing.

MalcolmNumber9: Oh god that's horrible. I've heard of Buffy, cause she's on the cheerleading squad but I never realized something like this was going on. I'm sorry.

You sniff sadly again. It really amazes you how this creature is so simplistic in its methods. Using raw pandering and sympathy, with no subtle challenges to the worldview of the person. Just direct implication that they are worthless without them. A part of you is curious how such a thing could exist when something like yourself does.

Putting that aside for now you respond.

Guest: It's okay. Not your fault.

Guest: I'm more worried than anything else that they will get worse. Why wouldn't they after all?

Guest: You know?

MalcolmNumber9: Don't worry about that, I'll help you Amy.

You feel a zing of magic try to grab your mind. It fails, and a bright smile shines briefly on your expression. It is interesting to see how young you look in your reflection. Like a girl-child and not a queen. What foolishness.

Guest: You will? Why, you don't know me.

MalcolmNumber9: I think I know enough from what you've said. You're in a bad spot and I don't like that.

MalcolmNumber9: I'll help you. I can't meet you right now, I'm sick at home right now but I'll get the ball rolling with the staff.

Inside one of your eyebrows rises. I did not expect that. Well, best take it while faking being 'taken in' by this creature.

Guest: Are you sure? I don't want you to get in trouble because of something they did.

MalcolmNumber9: Yep.

MalcolmNumber9: I'll start with the counsellor and my science teacher.

Guest: Thank you. I. Thank you.

The silence hangs around you for several minutes, and you see the trace flicker here and there again quickly. Now would be a good time to lay a trap for this thing. You feign hesitation and then carefully type out on the keyboard. Time to play at being weak willed.

Guest: I don't want to go.

The demon leaps back to you.

MalcolmNumber9: you don't have to go. I can still talk, for as long as you need.

Your inner feelings are toothy and mean, so very mean. Your trap is set, and when this 'Malcolm' least expects it 'Amy' will reveal a spine.

Guest: oh. Oh! I. I wanted to ask, is there anywhere fun in this town?
MalcolmNumber9: There's the Bronze and Maple Court. I don't go as often but there are also a few smaller malls sprinkled around the place.

MalcolmNumber9: You'd like the Maple Court. It has tons of shops full of all kinds of cool stuff.

Guest: Really? That's sweet of you.

MalcolmNumber9: Thanks. Where are you from?

You pause. Thinking for a moment, your posture straightening from the frightened hunch that you had been holding.

Guest: Los Angeles. I hated it there too, though it was home.

You pulled that name from another of your encyclopedia.

MalcolmNumber9: Oof. Yeah I can understand that. It was too busy for me the one time I went.

Guest: What do you do for fun?

MalcolmNumber9: well, I'm a reserve quarterback for the football team. Don't worry! I'm not a jock, I'm usually too sick to participate so I have a shield against the typical testosterone stupidity.

Testosterone?
Guest: oh. I read a lot. Boring I know.

MalcolmNumber9: Nah. What are you reading?

You remember from a brief glance over the library shelves some fiction.

Guest: just The Eye of The World. Haven't gotten very far at all. Don't want to talk about because spoilers though. I hate those.

MalcolmNumber9: Fine by me! I haven't gotten to reading Wheel of Time, but I want to. The ideas involved in the premise of a hero who repeatedly reappears in the world are interesting.

You are done with this conversation now. Looking up you feign concern and sudden fear.

Guest: Sorry, I got to go, I think someone's here. Talk to you later?

MalcolmNumber9: Go quick! Yeah we can talk later, just start a chat. I'll notice.
Rising you slip out of sight of the computer, face still contorted nervously. When you get to the door make a play of peeking out and then slipping through, shutting the door behind you.

Now hidden from the being the expression you were holding drops off and freezes into your typical stoicism. Inside however, as you stalk past the bathroom and head for an exit, your emotions are seething. Your fingers are twitching and trying to curl even as you resist.

The buzz of the lights in the ceiling calm you as you hurry through the halls and then find a window pointed north. Behind the school. Crash! The window breaks under your fist and you slither out with ease after shoving it open. The grass on your feet further calms you.

Hmm. Annie? You look at the trickle and find her in perfect condition, satisfied with something she did. Good.

It is an easy decision to return to her. The air feels heavier than it did before your conversation with that thing. You head for the cemetery along a new route, one that curves north and then west-southwest in a tight curl. It seems like the an unknown route in this part of town you are somewhat unfamiliar with and takes you a bit south of Maple Court.

Maybe something will show itself and you can remove it.

There is nothing of particular note at first. Houses and cars and the shadows of people in their homes or sleeping Souls. Their vulnerability does not grab your attention and you recognize no one. Nothing leaps out of the shadows to die on your magic. So, there is nothing of note.

Until you begin to feel something strange in the energies hanging on the air. A constant grind like stone moving very slowly under your hands. It is not something you are familiar with, the shape and feel of it are totally unfamiliar. But what it is doing to the malevolence around it is familiar. From before you arrived here.

The energy is subsuming the malevolence around it, like your own magic did before you were made. Wait. That thought? You're confused and detour towards the thing. How… odd.

You aren't sure where it is coming from, which just adds to your confusion. It is constant and ever pervasive, suddenly appearing and then seeming to exist all around you. You aren't aimless however. So you stop, and think, trying to trace out what you were doing when you noticed it.

Through an alley, across the road, then west past three houses to that one right behind me with the red roof. And I felt it when I passed… the front gate of the house.

From that you trace out a rough circle in your head. When you look up you find yourself looking down the alley. At a church steeple.
You blink. The image of another church, not your church, but a royal church nonetheless is persistent. You can't get rid of it, and so leave it sitting in the back of your head with it's two towers and taller steeple with a gargoyle at its peak. Which is nothing like the simpler and shorter peak and cross you see right now.

You walk towards it, your seeming clenched tight around you.

The sidewalk is cool beneath your feet, the grass wet with dew. Crossing the road, you get to the corner where the street turns around another house and look down the street at the church. It has a light standing alone in front of it, barely illuminating the door, though the steeple is lit from within.

It doesn't take you long to reach the front path leading up to its double doors of oak. They're carved with an image of a woman in prayer. You can see a Soul inside the building and you are certain it is the source of this strange energy. Who is this?

The Soul approaches the doors as you watch and the door on your right creaks open to reveal an older man, carrying a sack in one hand. He is clothed in a cassock and priest's collar, his shoes shiny black leather. He has brown hair and a simple beard, his face lined with the beginning of age. The way he carries himself speaks of it more than his face.

Why does his Soul feel that old? You can't get a good grip on the weight which settles on you when he looks up and meets your gaze, becoming curious but not surprised. The grinding fills your ears and rattles your skull like a child's toy.

"Hello. May I assist you?" He asks, his voice the only sound around you. May I assist you? I don't need his help. You frown.

"No." You say, tone flat. Turning, you walk away from the pastor. The strange, odd pastor who somehow feels wiser than you. You ignore whatever he says to your back.

It doesn't take you very long after that to reach the cemetery, and you can hear a commotion heading towards the front gate.

You can see the scholar's little car sitting near it. Inside the cemetery you can hear hollering and running feet as the Slayer, your Knight and the scholar chase after something.

Ah.

It is simple to ready a Soul Arrow and wait. Shortly thereafter the voices resolve into clarity.

"...you got another shot Annie? He's getting away!" That's the Slayer, sounding energized.

"No, didn't have a chance before he popped up!" Annie, sounding frustrated. That is displeasing to you.

This brief exchange is undercut by a constant, "No no no no no no!" from a simpering man's voice. The vampire presumably.

And your presumption is proven true a second later as a older teen vampire in ratty t-shirt and jeans pops out of the gate and turns to flee. He gets the chance to see your glowing hand rise in the corner of his eye before Zhew!

Your shot blows his head off. Screee!

You are no longer displeased.

Annie jogs out a second later and turns to you with a smile. She jogs up, reaching you as the Slayer also emerges. Looking at her you ask a question.

"How did it do?" Your eyebrow is quirked and your head tilted to the right. You can smell a strong scent of lightning lingering around your Knight and the right side of her face is a bit red and her hair frizzy.

"Wonderfully! It makes them die very prettily." She blurts out quietly, bouncing on her toes like an eager dog. You nod.

"Good. Tell me more when we get home." You say to her as you turn to the Warrior.

"Did it go well Buffy?" You ask her.

She smiles, though you catch a flicker of disappointment, there and gone again in her eyes.

"Yeah it went awesome. Whatever that thing is it is amazing at its job. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get one?" That last bit is somewhat joking.

You shake your head. "Sadly I am pretty sure it is unique, sorry." Shaking your head you wave to Giles as he emerges, huffing and puffing. He returns your wave before bending over and trying to recover.

"Did whatever you were doing go well?" The Slayer asks you. You have to stop yourself from striking the foolish girl, your left hand twitching behind you. You smile.

"It went great actually." Which is at least partly true, baring the end. You shake your head. "A problem should be nipped in the bud." Your posture is one designed to ward off questions however, tight shoulders and slightly turned aside.

Buffy just nods, apparently trusting you enough to believe you. Giles walks up to your little group, glancing at Annie where she is hanging near your shoulder and then looking at you.
"It is nice to see you tonight Miss Latria." He sighs and rubs his shoulder, "Though I think you caught us when we were wrapping up unfortunately."

You wave a hand, dispelling his concern. "We can work together later. Perhaps this Friday?" Your tone is light and sweet.

Giles and the Warrior exchange looks, then the girl shrugs and says, "Fine with me." Giles looks over.

"I think that will work, good night Miss Latria, Miss Annie." He says as he nods to you, and shaking your hands. Buffy waves as she backs up, a little hop in her step.

"Bye ladies! See you Friday!" Her voice is chipper. Then they both turn away and head to the car and putter away into the distance.

You relax slightly, and look over to your companion.

"Let's go home Annie." Your voice is quiet, subdued.

What do you decide to do, later?

[] Get Annie to help you figure out how to trap or track 'Malcolm'.

[] Help Annie figure out more about her arm.

[] You wish to know how useful Willow is. Test her by asking her to help you with 'Malcolm'.

---

Hurray! Update for everyone! Thanks for reading Latria Venting today.

Vote will close December 6th 6:00 pm UTC.

 

[BungieONI]

Episode 8, Part 4
"Poking the Hacker"​

Annie let you be that night and the following morning.

She was always near, sitting or standing somewhere in sight, but you were left to stew. You were brooding. It was not the best word for your mood, but you had few others to use to describe your simmering displeasure. Which forced you to do continuous battle with a small stream of little mind creatures like that gremlin trying to reach the flier in the school earlier.

Little, odious things constantly trying to escape you. Add your disquiet and as you sat in your chair and felt the old leather caress your porcelain flesh, a faint frown formed on your regal features. Why does such an odious creature exist in front of me? You gnashed and chewed at your thoughts and the things riding them.

I do not want it to live. I do not want anything like it in my town.

Thoughts like these made you grumble and hiss at the creatures in your head as you ate them. But you were stalking a set of thoughts over and over and over again, thinking them, discarding them, then returning to smash them. It was so… You didn't have words for it that made any sense to you.

Being displeased at tedium was abhorrent to your very self afterall.

This unsettled frustration mixed with the swelling thud thud thud of the Hellmouth in your inner ear. You grumble, the sharp sound pushing you up as you stood and stared around at your domain.

What would help me? In all of this! That thought fills you in the now, as you try to move away from musing on the past and stare frustratedly at your domain.

"Annie!" Your voice is sharp and your head snaps to look at her as your hair rustles over cloth.

"Yes my Lady?" She is already looking at you, attentive. Hands at rest and posture tense with nervous energy. You hit upon an idea.

"I am beset," Your speech twitches and hisses over that word, "...by a multitude of frustrations. That thing which hides in my town."

You cast your sanctum, throwing out your arms to indicate random objects. "None of these things let me hurt it as it should be, just trap it. The lack of a grasp I have on this thing is galling." The room cools with your words, your disquiet making the Fog sunk into the stone agitated. Annie frowns at your words. For a moment you think she might be hurt by what you said, but then you look again and realize that thought was ridiculous. She's thinking.
She hmms, tapping her chin with her metal hand.

Her eyes focus on you again. "It is using human machinery to avoid your notice. So I think you need someone who can track it down. I can't, I'm not particularly good with computers." She raises an eyebrow as some thought occurs to her, but then you interrupt.

"You're thinking about the Slayer." Which is where my thoughts were turning.
Your Knight nods, expression angry underneath a calm veneer. "Yes, specifically how to weaken her, because she needs to die." Her voice is also relaxed, on the surface.

"She does," you wave away her eagerness as you respond. Not time yet. "I have already ingratiated myself with them, but I agree. More is needed." You walk closer to her, thinking about the personalities of the Slayer's companions.

The boy is immediately struck off the list. His use comes from being bait, more than anything else. Which is part of the reason you didn't eat him, you now realize. No need to take the bait. The scholar might have some use. You might check him if your other option falls through, because he really is too insightful to approach lightly. That leaves Willow, someone you've surprised more than once and is blissfully innocent.

"Hmm." You hum, then giggle. "What do you think of Willow, Annie?" Your expression is still, but your tone pleased.

She brightens, her eyes widening as she makes a tiny 'ah'. "Yeah, she might be able to help you. I've known girls like her before, who retreat into their own little worlds and get involved in books or other things." Then she blinks, head tilting left as she looks at you curiously.

"Do you intend to train her in your arts?" She seems a mix of eager and wary confusion. Her metal hand curls possessively, at her side. The eagerness is what lingers in your mind, to be considered later. Maybe my Knight would like minions of her own?

Either way. "No, I will not train someone I intend to consume." You have little use in spreading the Soul Arts. You already exist, and you are all that should be here. This world is yours, and no one else's.

Annie relaxes, smiling and her shoulders drooping as she crosses her arms, though an air of put out childish disappointment puffs her cheeks. The entire display pleases you.

"Do I need to get the car?" Your companion asks cheerfully. You shake your head. You want to go on a walk today, to survey your domain as you look for the mage girl.

***​

There's no wind today. The air is thick and hot and tries to stick to your skin like warm oil as you walk over the scratchy stone of the sidewalk. The sun compounds the feeling by warming your hair and simple dress of brown cotton. It colors everything gold, reflecting off all of the metal and glass the humans like to put everywhere. Your breath lingers in your throat in the wetness. In another being it would probably invite lethargy. Everything about this afternoon day would. All the animals in the trees you walk under, their cool shade brushing over you, are apathetic and slow moving. The humans around you are too.

Laughing and meandering about their days. You avoid the mortals as a matter of course. They don't matter and you don't want undue interruptions. Annie, of course, stays close behind you. She seems to enjoy the weather, a looseness to her gait you haven't seen before and revelling in the light sheen of sweat on her brow and in her hair.

Hmm. How odd.

Pieces of the woman you were made from whisper to you that this is summer, though you have no real context for their meaning. You also don't feel it is worth your attention, and quickly move on. The vibrations of passing cars and vehicles rattle under your feet. According to Annie it should be nearing the time when the children are released for the day. Finding Willow should be easy and you already have a ready made excuse of just walking around to speak with her.

A part of you points out how it was before, and the rest agrees that it was better.

Rounding the last corner around a small home you come onto the cross street which goes in front of the school. There is a long line of cars which smell of hot metal lined up along the far side of the street. The chatter of teenagers running to parts you don't care about digs into your ears as they pour from the front doors of the school building. You don't stop and watch the stream of humanity, unremarkable Souls streaming to cars and down the opposite side of the street in either direction.

The press looks like it is headed your way, so you continue around the corner, paralleling the line of cars and entering the small park just behind the small house you passed. Finding a bench is easy and you sit, with Annie leaning against the side of it. Her posture is tenser now, with all the noise and mess moving nearby.

It takes a handful of minutes before you hear the Slayer, and looking around find her shiny haired head. You don't care to actually listen of course, since you're watching the thinner brunette next to her as they part ways. The girl slips into the crowd then and with an almost bored glance around discover she is not headed to any car, and is heading down the street away from you.

You glance up at your companion, meeting her green eyes as she looks down. "Annie, be a dear and follow at a distance." You rise and walk past, seeing her nod in the corner of your eye. Your feet make quiet shush shush noises as you stride down the street and past other houses and small buildings, paralleling the flow of humanity on your right. No one notices you as you walk. They're absorbed in their little young human worlds. Passing the last house you come to another corner at the end of the block and cross the street, striding into the flow with regal ease. You aren't that far behind the mage girl so you raise a hand and holler her name.

"Willow! Do you have a moment?" You aim for cheerful and forgettable, and achieve the tone flawlessly. People look over and then look away as the brunette lets out a confused eep and turns. Her face is full of innocent surprise and startlement.

"Uhm…?" Then she seems to discard the confusion and brighten, waving at you and smiling. "Latria! What's up? Excuse me sorry! Sorry! Why are you here? Sorry, oops!" Shyly she scoots her way through the crowd, nearly tripping over a few people and approaches you while shooting a volley of questions at you. You catch the glance she flicks to your bare feet and the look around to everyone else before she gets into arms reach.

"Whoo, too many people… anyway, what's up? And why are you...here?" The girl seems actively curious for whatever you have to say, looking around at the bright town landscape as if you don't fit into her little world of the moment.

You smile, letting her think you're happy to see a friend. "I was out taking in the sun. Walk with me Willow?" You start walking, gesturing for her to follow, and Willow trots to keep up as you continue talking without pause. "I have a question for you. Where were you going?" Making your way into the crowd is effortless. The humans part around your presence instinctively and Willow stays close easily, mumbling behind you before she speaks up and asks you a real question.

"Uh? Home… what was your question? And why ask me?" Her head tilts over like a very confused lizard, or a small fuzzy and wide eyed animal.

"Home, that's good then. My question is, how good are you with computers? I have a problem I think you could help me with." You're looking at her as you lead the way out of the crowd and across the street. Willow blinks at you before looking away nervously. Then her surprise seems to evaporate, replaced with interest and intelligence and wariness. She took my explanation of why I was here rather easily… you sigh internally as she answers your question with her own.

"A problem? On a computer?" She leans closer, eye flicking around to note your relative isolation as you walk down the street, you've moved away from the crowds now. And then apparently putting together what you are implying she asks. "Is it a demony kinda problem?"

You nod. She still isn't looking at me straight on. She must be intimidated. Good.

She grimaces, her small mouth twisting like she tasted something foul. "Yay..." She trails off, obviously thinking. Then she looks up and seems to remember you exist. "Um-uh yeah. Yeah I am pretty good with computers." Then she wilts, fingering her bag strap dejectedly. "But not demons, you'll want Buffy for that…"

You stop, and neatly avoid a collision as she is brought up short, cutting her off with a casual hand wave and shake of your head. Making sure to sound slightly put out, you look at her and say. "Like I said, I think you can help me. The computers is a bonus. But we don't want you to be late so let's walk and talk." You start walking again immediately and she hurries to follow you.

She looks around, coming out of her slump. "Right, right. Okay then…" Her tone is hopeful as she walks ahead of you, heading north towards her house. She looks over at you, tugging nervously at her bag strap.

You take that as your que. "So the problem is pretty simple and fit to your unique talents. Somehow a demon got released onto a computer and it appears, hmm, trapped for lack of a better word in there and in all the other computers in the school." Her expression morphs into one of curiosity and mild disgust as you explain. She makes an abortive attempt to ask a question, then seems to think better of it.

You just raise an eyebrow at that and say, "Hmmm?"

She stumbles a little, then corrects and sighs, asking her question. "How did a demon get onto a computer as a virus? Is this like Evil Tron or something?" She seems kind of rhetorical and very confused. Her eyes are dark and deeply disturbed. You shrug and ignore her reference to 'Tron'. It doesn't sound important.

"I'm not sure of the exact details, but," You raise a finger, "I know it didn't come from any of the Hells or other worlds. I didn't feel it arrive, so it was already here." You sigh.

"And Buffy would have already killed it if it was moving around freely. Or found it, or stopped it or… something." The mage girl besides you muses, straightening an errant hair as she frowns, eyebrows scrunching in thought.

You nod. "Quite, she's good at that." You huff. "So I expect it was bound to something and then went from that to the computer." You stop when Willow raises a hand, tilting your head left. Hmm?

"Could it have already, or um, always been on a computer? And what did you mean in the school?" She asks, haltingly. Uncomfortable with interrupting you, her eyes lock on your right shoulder.

Could it? No it was too… uncoordinated.

You shake your head and say. "No, I had a chance to talk to it, I'll explain in a moment," warding off her intensely concerned look with a shake of your head, "And it was too uncoordinated. My magic could see that it was not used to the mode of existence it found itself in."

At her invested 'please continue' look, she actually meets your eyes, you move on. "As to how I know. I knew it was around, felt it, so I tried to hunt it down and found it in your school computers. I lied to it and tricked it to talk to me with a message… thing. It sold itself as a senior named Malcolm."

She slows and turns to look at you more intently, then sighs. "That was risky. And it's so close? ...Crabsticks." She bites her lip and looks down at her feet. Then she glances up at you, some larger worry pushing her shoulders into a hunch.

You fake a look of concern. "Willow, what's wrong?" You reach for her slowly. She shakes her head and huffs, as she fixes her hair with one hand again.

"Okay, do you know what the Internet is?" She asks you hopefully. You shake your head.

She frowns, then tries to describe something expansive with her hands. "Okay so um… how do I… right. The Internet is basically a bunch of computers connected together, all sharing information, data, everywhere and kind of… talking to each other? Like a uh bunch of people all crammed into a room shouting at each other..." She finishes, dropping her hands and looking at you worriedly.

She's pretty good at explaining via metaphor, even if it is disjointed by her constantly second guessing herself.

"Ah. Yes I can see where this might be going. Go on." This sounds like it might be larger than I wish. You start expressing your displeasure on the things in your head, crushing them underfoot while you listen to her continue, keeping your face stoically calm. Your emotions are also diverted to focus on her. You see her subtly stand up straighter under that focus. She probably doesn't even notice.

"Yeaaah. So this demon may be in every connected computer, which could mean all of this town… and everywhere else that has a computer. Which is…bad." She hugs herself, her concern rapidly growing. Then she seems to find her spine and straightens up. Stretching out her hands in an authoritative chopping motion she starts talking again.

"So, this is actually something we can work with. Since you talked with it, right?" You nod at her question. "Okay great, well no not great, but, we can probably lure it into a single computer and then I think delete it if this is like a virus." She winces. "Probably going to have to destroy the computer, Ms. Calendar is going to be pissed."

You nod. "That sounds like it could work. I had considered trapping it with my magic when I initially encountered it, but I wasn't certain it would work." You throw out that comment to watch her reaction. She perks up at the mention of magic, her green eyes, they're duller than your Knight's, widening.

"Yeah, yeah it'd have to be magic." She paces in front of you, fiddling with her bag strap as she thinks. Then she turns and starts walking. You follow after her, watching patiently.

"So, Latria, I need to go home. I'm going to talk to Mr. Giles on the phone and figure out how to do this. How can we uh find you once we figure something out?" With a direction in hand she seems considerably more confident. A good trait in a prospective minion.

"Meet me at the Bronze tomorrow after school." You raise a warning hand. "Also, don't use the computers if you can help it, or message a person named MalcolmNumber9. This demon has some kind of corruptive ability through his 'speech' or presence."

You are coming up to the girl's house now, the dark siding of the two story seeming to drink in the heat. You can feel a Soul in there, moving around slowly. A parent? Mother probably if I understand this strange culture correctly. Though… what of it. Still a pointless mortal.

You turn back to Willow, smiling at her as she stands at the foot of her front lawn.

Then she speaks. "Thanks for letting us know Latria. We'll see you tomorrow night. Stay safe?" Her confidence leaves her as she dips into another mental slump.

You respond with a confident wave goodbye. "I'll make sure to. Stay safe as well." The girl nods and slips into her house. You can feel Annie approaching, the bonfire of her Soul contrasting with the small flames of the girl beside you and her mother inside. You turn and walk away from the house, to meet your Knight out of sight.

Turning the corner you find her. And she is frowning. You blink at her.

"That girl needs to grow a pair. Watching you build up her self confidence is annoying." Her voice is spiteful and angry.

You sigh.

"I know. But she takes to direction well, and we have a meeting at the Bronze tomorrow to deal a blow to the creature." With her revelation that it is so much bigger than you thought you don't expect to kill the beast in one blow, even with the plan.

Annie sighs. "Well at least she's sensible. Do you want me to go looking?" The emphasis you hear in her voice at 'looking' catches your attention. And… yes, she could help me with her strange sight… though.

You have to prepare for what comes after you strike this blow against the demon, and helping Annie divine the nuances of her Glove is part of that. There will have to be an excursion to the sewers to test this out however, for the sake of secrecy and not destroying my sanctum.

"You have been affected by him before." You raise a point against her going out alone. But, she shakes her head, expression stubborn.

"I have an idea of how to resist that and your time is valuable to fulfilling your goals." Her tone is brightly confident. Your face is flat, and you tilt your head left.

"Oh?" Your tone is pointed. She nods, shrugging as she crosses her arms.

"Yes my Lady. Now that I know what it's done I can expect it and resist. Also you could be connected to me without distracting you."

You huff. She raises an interesting point. You are quite tempted to murder that thought as it stalks through your mind.

What do you do?

[] Help Annie divine the nuances of her Glove so that you can be better prepared for the aftermath of the attack against Malcolm.

[] Let Annie go scouting on her own to look for more places the demon may be influencing while you let her draw power from you to protect herself from Malcolm.

---

A GIFT! ...For you! *wiggles eyebrows*

It's still christmas day where I am and I felt like giving to my wonderful readers. Have fun with the holidays!

Vote will close Friday, 28th of December, at UTC 6:00.

 

[BungieONI]

Episode 8, Part 5
"Fuck you from an old friend"​

Annie wasn't going anywhere. The demon could be left, for now. This idea was what drove you away from the idea that her point was interesting. And it was what kept you going forward for several hours, the greater part of you focused on your more mystical pursuits.

You are walking through the sewers with Annie proudly at your side, tapping her fingers on her leg to a tune you don't recognize but is pleasant. The gray walls are slightly dank with water and smell faintly of human waste. You walk unworried, because of your magic, on bare feet towards the "village" of the Rat King. Without his presence the place looks rather different, making you curious.

More human touches, like small white or red lights, signs marking out warnings and painted yellow arrows pointing in various directions. Were these always there? Hmm. There's no way for me to tell how much the King really changed things, so for now...More evidence of their human oddities. And that's what these markings amount to, to you. A rather pointless oddity, with interesting magical implications.

You're not sure what it amounts to for Annie. Should I ask? The thought flits through your head, before a bubbly feeling pushes a different thought to the surface. Let's find out. So you watch her out of the corner of your eye as you walk.

As the halls twist and turn and slowly slope downwards you first check where she is looking. Straight ahead. Her eyes… don't linger on any one thing for long. Every few minutes you see her glance over her shoulder surreptitiously. And occasionally she glances at your bare feet, looking concerned at the cleanliness. Nothing there… so you look at other layers, other parts of her. Here you find that she walks so as to stay away from the walls, without thought put into it. She's tense, always thinking. Her expression is distant, so she's planning… how to react.

That makes sense to you, but doesn't really tell you much about what she thinks of this place, beyond 'not much' right now. The mild disdain inherent in that set of thoughts is at least a starting point.

The bubbly feeling intensifies as you come to that first conclusion and think of the many more you will likely need. Passing through the room you killed the prince rat in you discover yellow… tape, with the word "caution" printed over and over in blocky black letters along its length blocking the far door down. Before you can do anything Annie steps forward and rips it away. When she moves aside to let you walk past her down the steps you find that all remnants of the village have been thoroughly removed. So thoroughly you can't see a single indication it was ever there. No wooden walls, no graffiti, not a single remnant of the rats at all.

You stop at the foot of the stairs. "Hmm. How odd." The words pop out of their own accord as you look around the simple rectangular box which used to be a pit of sorts. Now it's just, a room with more human markings and pipes travelling along the room's walls in a slapdash mess. Following the path of one large one marked "water" it goes over, under and around dozens of others before disappearing into the wall.

The room itself is also larger with the detritus cleared away. To your surprise the far door is sealed over with new brickwork, an arc of bricks lighter in color than the rest of the walls. This has a delicate mark of magic, unlike everything else, which seems to have been scrubbed clean. You walk across the empty box to stare at the wall.

Not seeing anything of note beyond that delicate mark, you turn away. Annie is standing at the bottom of the steps, her arms crossed and a wary look on her face. Her hair looks wine red and black as she stands partly illuminated in a little cone of light from one of the tiny white lights in the ceiling. A memory tries to rise to the surface but you strangle it and start to speak.

"As my Knight I have given you that Glove. Your task then is to find out its secrets." And further my goals, goes entirely unspoken between the two of you. She hmms in response, walking forward to stand in the middle of the room. You wait to see what she will do, since this is largely up to her. Resting your lower hands on your book and scroll where they sit on your hips and clasping your upper hands as you float lightly in the air with your mantle hanging around your shoulders. There was no need for your seeming for this little project.

She raises her Gloved arm and looks at it for a moment before whispering the incantation to awaken the device. As the words leave her lips you can feel static along your hair, though it doesn't frizz like a human's would and stays obediently still on your skull. Then rather abruptly there is a pah-choom! as a rippling rope of white lightning lashes from the pipes on the right wall.

You're too deep beneath the earth to hear if there is a sudden thunderstorm in the sky, but you can guess there would be with decent surety. You watch with interest as the Glove comes alive to your senses, filling out and its complicated magics being revealed to you. Annie's Soul is now essentially a part of it, filling the spaces of it. And exploring the Glove as she stands there.

Her brow furrows.

"That was weaker than it should be… " She mutters to herself as she turns to face the wall the bolt came from. Pointing her hand at a pipe she says the trigger and a small bolt leaps from her index finger to a patch of brick with a Zzzzt! and leaves a bright red spot on it the size of your fist. She's right… you muse to yourself about why that may be as she looks up at the ceiling, pondering.

The next few minutes are filled with Zzzzts and Pah-chooms as she plays with the Glove and figures out that while it is definitely weaker, it is also less controllable. Until she starts performing multiple charge attempts and manages to fill it up, which returns control at the cost of time. You can tell from her huffy expression and pout she isn't exactly pleased with this development.

You take the opportunity. "Since the lightning seems temperamental down here, try one of the other ones."

Annie looks at you, slightly slumped by her frustration and frowning heavily. Then she sighs in one long breath and then straightens up. Running her flesh hand through her hair she looks at you and says. "One of the three I can't do. There's something… missing." She waves her metal hand around loosely at the room around you.

You tilt your head to the right, ornaments clinking. "What else is there, around your Soul?" You ask with actual interest.

She grunts in frustration, shrugging. "I can't find the other two, but one of them I definitely can't do. The other one…" She clenches her hands, then lets go and starts pacing. "It is definitely here, I'm just not sure what to do…" She gets a thoughtful look as she trails off, one eyebrow rising as she taps her chin with a finger.

Then she starts waving her arm around slowly. You… aren't sure what she's doing. At all.

Her… antics, which involve her waving her arm around and muttering nonsense syllables under her breath goes on for several minutes. She even seems to be making progress, strange and subtle energy occasionally slightly twisting the air, the wind, around her. You were essentially satisfied with the slow progress, even if she seemed to be getting more and more frustrated as time went on. You got to make progress on finding out what she thought.

And from her posture and how she was abusing the walls with her power, or at least attempting to, you can conclude she… really does have an opinion which aligns with yours. It's as you're being washed in that bubbly feeling that you are both rudely interrupted by distant cackling echoing down the tunnels, and the feeling of vampires.

What are they doing…?

"Tar chugam…" You approve as your Knight starts chanting to summon her lightning. You ponder making Images of yourself, but discard it as you take a closer look. You can feel six vampires in a pack moving through the tunnels towards you, and you can hear them too. Cackling and jeering at each other like dogs. Annie is taut like a bowstring as the sounds slip down the stairs. You wait a moment more, judging that tension, and then when you hear them coming close to the room above you let her go.

"Annie, hunt them down for me." You command her, and before you finish she's already out the door, streamers of snapping light traveling along the walls of the tunnel to her like a halo. You follow after, floating slowly up the steps. You can't move quickly but that doesn't matter.

Running footsteps sound on the concrete of the room above as it descends into view. In front of Annie the vampires are coming around the corner at the other end of the entrance tunnel, all sporting looks of wariness and surprise. One of them, a springy girl in raggedy clothes with a poof of white-blond hair, hissing and fangs bared.

Zzza-KRACK!

Boom!

A bolt of white fills the tunnel, silhouetting Annie, and cries come down the tunnel as the blinding light singes eyes. Through it you can see the girl evaporate into dust. They disappear around the corner in a rush of snapping cloth and exclamations of surprise. Good, good. This pleases me. Though...

Annie slows down, walking quietly as she approaches the corner. You touch down and stride down the tunnel silence, a multi-limbed pressure building in your head as your thoughts begin to race. With her arm raised Annie steps up to the corner.

A leather clad arm whips at her face, before it is intercepted by her Glove and burns in a snap-sizzle! The screams of the vampire tear at your ears, and Annie's improved reaction time peaks your interest. Maybe one thing the Slayer is good for. While you contemplate that you slide into the commotion and rest a hand on her shoulder. When the lightning stops you grab the burned arm and yank.

What you fish out is a tall vampire, thin, pale, and with a brown eyed face full of piercings under a mop of bright green hair of all things. Wrapping your arms around him you hiss and lift him off the ground as he struggles futilely. His mouth flaps open and you jam it shut with an upper hand, then haul him around the corner. You find amusement in how you are holding him like a dancing partner, almost.

You look at the things, the vampires in front of you, crouched and claws out. Full of fear. You look at them with contempt.

"And why, are a band of ruffians like you in my town hmm?" You ask politely, affecting a look of pleasant curiosity. They all look at you like you were something they found under their beds. "Hmm?" You ask again as you squeeze, and elicit muffled screams from the man-child in your hands.

And they really are ruffians, with their ragged clothing and piercings and formerly cocky attitude. To a one. You can feel your Knight step up besides you, her weapon raised threateningly. They're all so young and raggedy clothed. Then there is a soft, wobbly, intake of breath and a short brown skinned girl steps forward. Her pants are shredded and her jacket rugged and spiked at the shoulders.

"Your town? Lady, you need your head…!" She doesn't get to finish as with a shout your Knight vaporizes her fool head with a bolt of concentrated celestial fire. The rest of her collapses onto her companions with a Skree! And a poof.

There's a moment of silence.

Then the tall one at the back with a shock of red hair and bone pale skin turns around and flees as fast as his long legs will carry him, his coat flapping around him. Good on him to not waste his energy doing anything else. The man-child flops like a snake and screams probable obscenities after him, and then dies when your Soul Arrow engulfs his skull in white fire.

"Richard you dick wait for us!" The brunette girl on your left says as she looks back and turns to run. The remaining two men, probably siblings going by their shaired brown hair and green eyes look at you and Annie in bafflement before following their compatriot. The girl hisses at you like an enormous snake and then flees. Or at least tries to, before another of your bolts blasts her right leg out from under her and sends her tumbling. She immediately starts scrambling on the ground, fear hanging around her.

Your Knight charges after them. The girl sees you both coming and with another scream starts limping away as fast as she can, turning a corner to duck as Annie fires another shot. A pipe on the wall cracks and releases a burst of water and steam as the shot bangs into it. You both round the corner through the rapidly cooling steam and your Soul Arrow reduces her to dust. She was running for a turnoff to your left. Annie breaks away from you as you pass it. You can hear two sets of footsteps echoing down that tunnel. But ahead of you is the coward.

Your thoughts are everywhere, bouncing in your head like children's toys.

Distantly you hear the Zzzzt! of your Knight's weapon through the walls. Your target hasn't slowed at all, running pell-mell away from you like a startled hare. But you can feel his presence as you run through the halls.

Hmm, I wonder if vampires can feel mine. The errant thought has you opening the way for your Fog, letting it go to hang all around you like a banner or storm front. There is no reaction for several moments. Then as you get closer and start to hear his footsteps, slapping into the ground frantically. You hear distant high pitched screams, which eventually fade.

It makes you laugh. Through twists and turns you chase him, surrounded by a nimbus of white Soul stuff. When you come to a straightaway at last you see him, clad in his jacket and jeans. He doesn't even look back when he hears your footsteps.

"Where are you running Richard?" Your voice is inhuman, metallic echoes and the grind of gears in the back of your throat distorting the sound.

"Fuck you!" Is what the doomed vampire shouts back. You get closer and closer and closer. Your pursuit catches up with his desperate flight and soon you are just, just barely out of reach of him. The halls are a blur around you both, lights flicking by one after another after another after another and lighting his body in staccato bursts.

I want his Soul! Is the sole occupant of your mind now. You will have it, or whatever bastard equivalent of it vampires have.

You are so focused on him you do not notice the partially open door visible in the hallway until you have to weave around it abruptly being in your face. Your right hands claw deep furrows and drag sparks as you flip into the room.

"No shit shit shit no no… fuuuuuck." The vampire is whimpering as he looks frantically about the pipe filled room, which is rank with the stench of mortal filth. You growl at the little beast, no longer capable of properly expressing amusement, and the vampire leaps towards a wall, a corner, with a high rabbit like scream.

You stalk towards him as he desperately searches for a way out. Your hands are claws as you reach for him and hiss. You slink closer and closer, and ignore his please as he wraps his hand around a pipe. When you loom over him, and your Fog is licking at his knees he smiles and pulls-

Clang! Fwooom!

Filth, in my eyes. In my mouth. You can't see and there is… You take a sniff as you stumble about blindly. High pitched keening fills your head. There is filth all over you. It is in your robe! My mantle! My Book! My…

You blink and feel a wet plop as something lands drips off your eye. Squish-sliiiiiide. Your foot catches in a stinking, pile, of mortal offal. You can't.

It's everywhere. All over my perfect skin. I can taste it.

You cannot stand this, this horrible world anymore. The shudder which racks your frame doubles you over and stabs at your chest. You're trying to scrub it off with your hands but it doesn't want to come off and you're just making it worse!

The stabbing intensifies and you breathe in.

You smell the hateful rotten thing that did this to you. Soiled your dignity so. You lurch around and see it before the muck slides back into your eyes, scurrying out the door like a thief in the night.

I HATE YOU!

The walls crack at the force of your denunciation, the ceiling rumbles, and you hear a series of metallic clangs as something is sent flying away from your evil voice. The coward flees before you and you chase him screaming.

Kill you!

Eat you!

You've lost him, and your breath stutters. You can't see, and scrubbing at your eyes won't help. Hunched like a sick woman you paw at the air and mutter to yourself, a litany of mine mine mine and you RUINED IT!

A clatter and a whimper. You lurch around and careen towards the noise. Bang! You hit a, wall? Bounce off it and hurtle towards the noise blindly, your magic raging all around you in a blinding cloud. Thwack! Clang! Then a scream.

"NO NO NO I'M ALMOST THERE, STAY AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" You lurch up after that scream and lash out with a claw. Meat. Your nails dig into flesh, eliciting another frantic squeal as you yank the vampire back down into the dark. With you.

***​

It is a little while after you are done punishing that, eating that…! You howl and blast a furrow into the wall, and then inhale. Relax.

Unclenching your hands you go back to walking forward, feeling your way along the walls, the gaps and mortar dragging over your ruined skin. You can't even breathe without smelling the stink or feeling the flecks coating what passes for your lungs. Rounding a corner, you stumble and catch yourself on a wall, blinking as you hear a clatter of steps rushing towards you and feel a familiar presence.

"Annie!" Your voice sounds wrong, raw and wet and weak. You can feel her, and hear her horrified gasp as she must see you.

"My lady!?" Her voice is horrified and concerned in equal measure and you try to straighten up. Then her hands grip yours and you flinch, before being pulled down. There's a scrubbing, rough sensation on your eyes, and then you can finally see. Blinking, you see her shocked and fearful face. When you meet her gaze she relaxes, somewhat. You feel a slight tug on your left wrist, and your eyes flick down to see her hand, covered in the filth too. Shaking your head as you strangle the strange thoughts trying to make you pull away you follow her as she gently coaxes you forward. It is a long, long trip back home through the tunnels.

When you get there Annie leads you up the stairs and into the bathroom. She coaxes you gently into the shower but your mind is drifting away from the physical world as you seethe in blood boiling anger. It makes your heart beat like a drum or a fist, trying to get out, and your breath hiss through your sharp teeth.

As you feel gentle touches through your hair, you begin to brood.

What happens next?

[] You are in no mood to go to the Bronze on Friday. Send Annie in your stead.
[] You have gotten over it. Go with Annie to the Bronze

---

Yeaaaaaaaaaaah. Poor Richard managed to find one of an already unstable Latria's buttons. And now you have a chance to change something because life is a bitch, which should be fun!

Vote will close on the 14th at 6:00 pm UTC, haaaave fuuuuun!

Also my computer has returned from the repair shop!