2. LAMBING.

[hismasterpiece]

Tonight, just after sundown, there is a ruckus on one of the farms northeast of the village. When the bleating dies down, several dead lambs might be found in one of the enclosures. The ewes paw and nose at the bodies, dumb terror still fresh in their eyes.

Forest animals just have not been cutting it for Drusilla. But the vampire has been too wary to approach the village and feed there -- not without her Family, those who strengthen her. She stalks the journals during the day when she's not sleeping. Two slayers? A vampire hunter? All sorts of overpowered freaks and heroes and demons? She might be mad, but Dru is not stupid enough to attempt any kills in the village. Yet.

As she tears through the last lamb, the vampire laments to herself how much more fun this would be with Spike. And then she convinces herself in a long, drawn-out argument with a curiously red evening star -- which she quickly names Ethelind -- to spy on the sleeping village. Find out where the sweetest victims lay their heads. Her tattered white new-feather sundress, covered only by a black lace shawl, is stained red with lambs' blood. The dress of her porcelain doll, which she is carrying with her, is also stained. Perhaps she can stop at the shop for a new frock, and one for dolly, too.

When she glides through the village, Drusilla will dare to peek into some windows. She cannot enter any homes without an invitation.

[Dru will not be lingering around anyone she has identified as a threat. She is a powerful vampire but far more bold when working with lackeys or her "family" -- Angel, Spike, Darla. IF YOU WANT YOUR CHARACTER TO DIE OR BE INJURED AT THIS TIME JUST TELL ME IN A SUBJECT LINE, otherwise she won't be killing or hurting anyone in this post.]

Comments

[bloodwaif]

Unlike the Spartans, Dru preferred to fight in the moonlight. There was a chance of capturing her victims' eyes that way. And with Kendra, there had been the soulless fluorescent lighting of the school library.

Here, her nostrils flared; a growl brewed. There were other ways to reach the minds of her enemies.

"Peaceful, was Seven tonight. All the ladies tucked away with that mouse of a man. I wonder if the seaside will be as peaceful?"

[herotypical]

"Peaceful? Oh, I bet. A whole party of peacefulness. And one that you're oh-so-conveniently not invited to."

The hard, extra-steeled note in her voice was testament enough to the Slayer's protective streak and how adequately Drusilla had just played upon it. Preyed upon it. And the prickling in her thumbs at the prospect of Cullen House coming under any similar scrutiny. Ah, well...

"Besides -- creeping outside houses you're not allowed into? I kinda thought that was more Spike's thing."

[bloodwaif]

"He always loved ME best," she hissed in reply. Dru didn't want to fight the slayer in here. No, she had to get clear to a place where she could dodge underground if the sunrise caught her out of her lair. The crumbling fort and the tunnel by the shore would do nicely.

[herotypical]

A shrug. Truthfully, Buffy realized only a heartbeat too late that Spike wasn't really her best avenue into this conversation -- not with such a patchwork history and so many still sour memories.

What she could say, however: "How sad for you, then, that you pretty much just missed him. He was here. Now he's gone."

She thought. Believed. Feared. Hoped. Wondered.

[hismasterpiece]

There was a pained groan at that. As a distraction, it is momentarily successful. "Gone? My pretty plaything? She HATES being alone!" There was a stomp of her foot as Drusilla squared off against Buffy once more.

"I require more. I will have more."

[herotypical]

"Nuh-uh. Sorry, partner. See -- I double as the bartender par excellence in this town and I'm afraid I have to tell you that you've been cut off."

Which meant, of course, that the Slayer was making her approach. Liable to break into a spring at any moment, really.

[bloodwaif]

Her feral enemy was making her OWN approach, graceful bare feet pattering a waltz-like pattern into the sawdusty floor.

"Cut. I like to cut slayers, naughty me. I should love to cut another."

[herotypical]

Kendra. Her throat tightens -- just a touch -- and she allowed the scythe to slip into a comfortable pro-attack position.

"As the kids are prone to saying these days...? Come at me, bro." And Buffy sliced first. One long, brutal cut through the air. It was never intended to hit home but only to cover the last few feet of her approach. An advance guard of sorts.

/has like NO ACTION ICONS

[hismasterpiece]

Drusilla dodged, snarling, and tried to sweep her steel-sharp nails into her enemy's legs, hoping to hamstring her. Cut tendons. Make the woman limp.

"I didn't drink her blood," she cackled. "Tainted. Tainted."

[herotypical]

Buffy had complicated feelings over that fact. Undrained -- Kendra's body pooling blood as she sank next to the body. The cops barging in. Buffy barely able to process the arrest while still frozen with so many other things. Guilt. Grief. Betrayal. A creeping, growing resolution. It was that moment -- running from the police -- that had first brought her squarely into Spike's consideration as more than just another Slayer to be sliced and served. A deal, brokered long before he was souled or chipped.

A deal, Buffy's stomach turned as she thought about it, for this very vampire's safety. Let Spike and Drusilla go? Save the world. Had it ever really been a choice? Still, she never stopped regretting it.

These thoughts are abandoned for the sake of action. Buffy stepped mechanically to the right and left only an expendable piece of thigh to take the blow. To bleed -- shallowly, through a ragged tear in the denim. So the Slayer whirled with her weight on her opposite leg, chopping diagonally through the air and towards Drusilla's neck.

[hismasterpiece]

The vampire had already been wounded by Doyle's gunshot; she wasn't eager for a replay. With surprising speed she dodged that slash, a pleased-as-punch smile on her face for having drawn the slayer's blood.

"And him for dessert!" she crowed, trying to dart in with another slash. "And the tall one for my playmate!"

[herotypical]

And so she followed up that dodged slash with a second. Things were uncomfortably nearing the barracks-half which housed the transporter; however, she would sooner see the vampire backed into that exitable corner than loosed on the village.

Tall one. Ugh -- what even...? "Him? A playmate? I don't think he knows the meaning of the word play."

[bloodwaif]

"He will be my kingly --"

Dru gnashed her teeth and hissed as, that time, the scythe connected with her midsection. It wasn't nearly deep enough to do lasting damage, but it was certainly enough to make her think about exiting rather than fighting on. She launched herself with a shriek when she saw an opening, trying to fly past the attacking slayer.

[herotypical]

"He'll be your noth--"

Dammit -- Drusilla was faster than she remembered, breezing past Buffy as she tried to correct for this new movement. Scything wasn't half as practical as staking and so she wasted precious moments in whirling her weapon about -- business end at ready as she gave chase.

[bloodwaif]

"I'll have them both!" came the triumphant reply as the dark-haired creature rushed for the door. "Both of your seadogs in my reticule! And I shall love having them, slayer. I shall love it.


Soon."

[herotypical]

Over. Her. Dead. Body.

It wasn't a thread that needed to be spoken -- it came over loud and clear enough as she pushed into a run. She knew the length of the barracks well. Had walked it arm-in-arm. Had fought and sparred in it. Had paced its lengths alone.

[hismasterpiece]

Truly, another dead slayer would satisfy Drusilla to no end. Especially this one...she'd begun to smell her on Spike's aura. Just on the edges. Dirty dealings.

This chase would not let up until the two had reached the Western Lake; there, deep under the cold waters, was a cave. Drusilla had dived into it once already in a desperate escape attempt from the morning sun, and had sheltered there til morning on that occasion.

She didn't like the nasty dark cave. She preferred her bedroom filled with pretty things by the other lake. At the edge of the water, she turned at bay.

....thread. sigh.

[herotypical]

Could she deny the slight, thin thrill of the chase? Or even refuse it? Better to embrace it. Buffy did so and hoped that her feet would land squarely with each stride. She didn't want to catch a root and fall and lose the quarry. And she didn't want to lose the clarity of mind she felt just inches outside of her reach. Dirty dealing, indeed.

So Buffy gave such thrilling chase up until the lake's shore. This lake -- so familiar -- used to have a house by it.

What a different time that was.

"End of the line, Drusilla." The Slayer slipped into a steady stance. Unwinded.

: D

[hismasterpiece]

"Do you want to know how I did it? Do you want to know how I bit your nasty slayer friend?"

Dru seemed unperturbed.

[herotypical]

"...Caught the after-show, thanks."

Circling.

[hismasterpiece]

"With my eyes. With my gorgeous eyes. With my nails." The vampire was just standing still, feeling the water lap at her heels.

[herotypical]

"...Yeah. I've heard about the eyes."

And yet -- her own eyes drift there. They shouldn't, but they do. Slayers: ever flirting with death.

[bloodwaif]

"Be in my eyes, slayer. Swim in them. Feel me in yours."

[herotypical]

Rapid blinking. She kept her scythe close -- like a security blanket. But she had never looked into Drusilla's eyes before.

[bloodwaif]

"In mine. In mine, kitten. In mine, sharp-clawed kitten. Be my sister tonight."