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]

[An enraged shriek follows that gunshot. Had it been a little to the left, and had she not dodged it so quickly, it might have partially severed her head. Instead, it nicks Dru's jaw, peeling the skin back to her ear.

This will buy him time, though -- but not much. Her nails are like razors. If he can manage to get out of her reach, he might be alright. Humans can outrun vampires in the world of Sunnydale.

If he doesn't he could very well earn more dangerously deep cuts from her claws. What he should avoid are her attempts to latch onto his neck with her powerful fangs.]

[fuckthemission]

[He sucks in a sharp breath, glancing at his partially tattered sleeve in the dark. That hurts like a bitch, and more frighteningly, that was fucking sharp. And judging by the drips of blood rolling down a cut on his cheek and the way she opened her mouth and lunged at him--among other things--he's finally piecing it all together.

Not going to stick around here. He curses under his breath and turns, running as fast as he can with his arm tucked away protectively; lucky him, he's very used to running. Hopefully he'd stunned her just enough to get a break. Just the little break he needs. These things aren't fast, are they? He figures if they are, he's as good as killed. Again. Again. Ugh. What is he, some sort of death beacon?]

[bloodwaif]

[Drusilla watches him run. She isn't prepared to attack again -- not now that she's injured and he is probably on his way to rouse the village.

She's had enough of pitchforks and torches in her undead life.

Instead she stands, swaying slightly, for a few moments, tasting what remains of him on her fingertips. Oh. Oh. He is exquisite. Oh, she wants more.

Soon enough.]

Soon enough, Ethelinde. Soon enough soon enough, Ethelinde.

[And she turns to make her way toward the Barracks.]