You didn't send me away because Asura would have done the same thing he did last time. You chose to not send me away only because you need him.
Lan had kept her mouth shut and her eyes forward for a long time, the thought repeating in her mind, bathed in silence broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the distant, whirring static of a passing breeze. London felt empty, drained of color and vapid; the usual nightlife tinges of the city stuffed behind concrete walls and absorbed into neon lights that leaked from beneath distant doors. She heaved out a quiet sigh and ran her hands over the cold curve of her lips. Desolation seemed to be the motif of her existence, not only permeated by it, but in the thrall of it. Surrounded by a quiet world, she knew herself to be a small island in the wake of passing woe. Victoria had spoken to her little since their departure from the clock tower and she had offered only terse and formal replies; as her respect for the Commander dictated. Her mind was far removed, thinking back to the time she had been spending alone before being called to Big Ben. She had been toying with her tarot cards, waiting for the sun to dip behind the horizon.
The World, twenty first of the twenty two Major Arcana. Technically the last, depending on the deck and esoteric labeling of The Fool. Often representative of completeness or a reward, unless inverted. As the Querient's solution in a simplistic spread, the inverted World is similar to The Tower; heralding ruination and a grand sundering.
...Or am I remembering that incorrectly?
Truthfully, Lan wasn't interested in talking to Victoria; or anyone else, at the moment.. She wanted to turn to ash and disperse herself into the winds, to turn her back on the Commander and her team...but she had vows to keep and duties to perform; not to ESNA, but to herself and two others. Asura and Lucilotte, one a long friend to whom she owed her continued existence, the other a stranger who was depending on them. The vows were simple, but had deep roots. She trusted Asura with her life and counted him as her only true friend; she'd sworn to him that she would do her best, that she'd prove herself...that she would better herself to ease the strain her presence in the unit placed on him. Lucilotte she had only recently come to know of, but felt that the girl was in a greater pain and danger than she had ever faced; her family had been murdered before her, their souls offered up to some vile deity. The Jiangshi could only imagine what the girl must be feeling.
Ruination...sundering, disjointedness. It would be foolish of me to discard something like that in my spread as mere chance.
Let it go already, focus! Besides, why the hell am I thinking about tarot cards at a time like this!
So, instead of speaking; Lan held her tongue and let go of her lingering, atrophic thoughts and turned her mind to the task at hand. Faith had crossed their path, offering some excuse as to why she hadn't shown herself. She was trailing a few paces behind the Commander, until they halted to begin the conversation. Lan stepped to the side, offering a quiet inclination of her head to Faith; her face stoic.
If it had been me giving that excuse, it wouldn't fly. There's no way Victoria would let me slip out of something like that with such a casual disregard.
Am I jealous, or hurt that I feel that way? I guess it doesn't matter, we're here on a mission...and wasting time.
Her chest tightened and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke made Lan dig into her voluminous pockets; producing two cigarettes and her lighter with a fluid motion, striking her own, flinching slightly at the spark of the flame. She offered the other forward to Faith.
"It's been a while. Good to see you, again, Faith."
Lan wore her best smile, tucking away her thoughts for the time.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Only God knew just how far Miles had run, but the deep ache in his lungs and the smoldering pain in his knees told him he had come far. Something about the gunshot had scared him, distant though it was. He'd slowed as he approached the source of the noise, catching his breath and preparing himself for what the terrible sight he was surely about to behold. His body tensed, every fiber drawing taut as he made his way toward where he thought the sound had come from; following the sound of a man screaming, which had ended abruptly as he had entered the area. Instead of cruel laughter or silence, he heard a male voice...a loud snap...then a girl's voice; speaking about a demon. Miles hadn't caught everything, but he'd heard enough. He turned on his heels, still breathing heavily and took a step away.
Where do you think you're going? You're not even going to man up and go see who's talking? Ruby's missing, or worse, and, face it, man, you need help. They mentioned demons...and...and all that screaming! It can't just be chance that you've come across a group of people like this, here and now. Turn around.
He looked around, quietly, thinking himself hidden from the view of whoever was speaking and pressed a balled fist against his forehead; digging knuckles into his brow, then eyes, slowly and in circular patterns. He had accessed Ruby's location, as per her contingency instructions, and was shocked to see she was still in the park...or at least close enough to it.
THERE ISN'T TIME TO PUSSYFOOT AROUND THIS, YOU BITCH! DO SOMETHING OR ACCEPT THE FACT THAT RUBY IS GONE AND YOU DIDN'T DO A DAMN THING ABOUT IT!
"Alright, damn, here it goes," he whispered before slipping from behind his cover and stepping out into the open, "...holy shit," was all he could muster. In front of him, they stood; arrayed in front of a dead man. It was part of the group he and Ruby had been trailing earlier.
The fucking Trenchies...maybe...but what am I gonna say...
The words stuck in his throat as he stared at them, trailing eyes from each one of them...to the man laying dead at their feet. Suddenly, the importance of the situation began to sink in. If they saw him and knew that he had seen them...that he and Ruby had the vaguest idea of what they were or what they did; he'd end up like the poor bastard with his head hanging askew. That's what he'd have to bank on. Miles let loose a tense sigh, praying that they hadn't seen him. He produced his cellphone and casually snapped a picture, making certain that the click and flash would be apparent to the group gathered there. As soon as it issued, he bolted in the other direction; letting out a long whoop to ensure that he had their attention. Groups like that didn't just let a voyeur slip back into the night; he'd just have to pray they wouldn't kill him before he had a chance to beg them for help.
This is the worst plan you've ever come up with, Miles. You're going to get yourself bagged and murdered and no one will ever fucking know what happened to you.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Lucilotte's head was heavy beneath the tangled mess of her ebon hair. Each breath was slow and shallow, though her heart thundered furiously in her chest. She had wept for so long in silence that she had become used to viewing the world through a veil of tears. Now, though, she felt a cold and clinical sense of clarity; a knowing that imparted to her a sense of fatalism she had never experienced before. Lucilotte Ashworth had never seen death before what had happened to her family, she had never smelled blood so strongly or seen the way that a blade digs eagerly into exposed flesh. Then, after that horrid moment, everything had gone dark. She had feared herself dead, but the truth was more disturbing; she had been in the thrall of some spell, her marionette thoughts dancing on vile strings. Now, though, with the gentle touch of a lovely face against her own fair features, she was suddenly thrust back into the world with a sharpness that made her recoil. Her hands tensed in her lap and her throat became tight. The woman before her, her vibrant and jovial captor was smiling and introducing herself.
"H-hello, Sepi," she managed to work out from between her lips, they were timid syllables, wrested from the confusion of a bereaved and suddenly self-aware girl, "I..."
I what, she queried internally, her face a mask in the witch's presence, I want to go home? I want to leave? I want my family back?
"I like your name," her tone slipped into something more akin to her normal sweet, melancholic tone and she uncurled her hands and placed them at her side, "it is very pretty." She wanted to tell the woman that she didn't want a nickname, or any sort of familiarity with her, but knew that there was no use in arguing. Luci decided it would be best to stay on the woman's good side and knew that complaining or mourning would strike a sour chord with her new chaperon. She forced a tired smile onto her face.
"Luci is fine..."
I had never seen evil before. Now I feel I know it all too well. What escape is there from a woman like this? What did she do...how did she make them...
Her mind was alight with questions, each a crashing wave against the shore of her mind; scattering loose pebbles of memory and debris from the past, all pulled into the screaming tide and cast aside as she stared at the beautiful, cruel thing before her.
"What...are we doing, here?"
She would not ask the obvious questions. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to give Sepi the pleasure of seeing her worry. Lucilotte Ashworth kept a small, meek smile on her face, plastered in place by uncertainty and fear.
This woman, this thing, killed my family and surely has some similar design in mind for me. Despite her words and demeanor, I can only assume that my life is in danger. I am sorry, Father, Mother, I do not yet have time to mourn you. I will cry for you when there is time.
If you are watching, please, please, please, help me.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He listened intently, as the quiet girl spoke. Vampire Lord Oberon Zeiss was not a creature of immense patience, but he was capable of waiting when the situation was called for. Sepi's movements were fluid and impressive, though he felt her display to show a child-like disposition toward boredom. Despite her cunning and power, the young witch was exactly that; young. Oberon despised the young and foolhardy, those who existed for their own amusement and little else. He was once like them, an errant crow caught in a maelstrom of possibilities. Now, here he stood, in the heart of London; a creature feared and respected by those who tread the night. It was this that gave him purpose in his unlife, that and his beloved family; those who followed in his steps. They were precious to him, despite his firm hand with handling them and that sense of duty was what separated him from a being like Sepi.
"Tomas," the vampire said, without turning away from the conversation unfolding before him, "you have brought someone with you." He sniffed the air, briefly, his broad shoulders falling as he let loose a long, hissing breath; savoring the taste of her blood on the air. "A woman, young and full of life. Why have you brought her before me?"
It was a formality to ask. He knew Tomas had been searching for a suitable companion for some time, though the few he had brought before his lord were little more than a passing feast. Long he had considered giving his 'son' the companion he desired and he believed the time had finally come. Oberon turned, placing his eyes, first on Tomas, with a slight smile, his lips curling up at the edges and his eyes alight with some sense of mischief. He took slow strides toward them, a gliding gait that closed the distance between them in little time.
"My son," he offered with a sense of amusement as his eyes drank in the girl clutched to his arm, "you wish her to join you in unlife?" Again, it was rhetorical. He knew well that the only reason this girl was not dead and drained was because Tomas had some want of her. Oberon moved in close, staring into the girl's face, running long fingers across her cheek before speaking.
"What is your name, child?"
