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

[shadedsunlight]

It's closer to 10:30 PM when Ginia leaves Cloud Nine and begins her walk back to House 44 to change and begin patrolling. It was a slow, but good night, and she's in a good mood as she walks home, quietly humming to herself, enjoying the evening air. Caution is on her mind, it always is, but the last eight months have made her up soften up a little.

injury is fine, if it comes down to it <3

[honestapples]

All that ruckus out by the sheep pens has alerted the farm's caretaker, even though she's very nearly on the opposite side of the farm when the bleating screams ring out. Applejack takes off at a gallop towards the noise, her trusty dog Winona right alongside her, barking wildly. It may be too late for them to save anything, but neither one will do anything less than their best to defend the farm.

[mountain_sage]

[Saleh's gone home for the night, but he's not quite ready to turn in yet. He's still a bit excited about seeing his home again. Instead of laying his head, he's sitting cross-legged on his bed in meditation, to calm himself for the good night's sleep. However, his eyes wander, and he spots the woman peeking through the window. Peeking through his window this late? Saleh can't help but find that suspicious. He gets up and approaches the window, but hesitates to open it. What will she do?]

injuring is fine with me SUP DRU

[fuckthemission]

[Doyle's plans consisted of having one or two drinks at the bar and heading home to pass out; he'd been scaling the forest looking for good points to watch out over sections of land, in case worst-case scenario happened and he needed a place like that, which had dulled out any desire to stay up late. He's passing the figure with his hands pressed into his jacket pockets—

He squints. Something about her seemed off, but perhaps it's the fact that she's snooping around, looking like she's investigating the houses; a New Feather? It'd make sense if she were confused. He knows the feeling.

So he clears his throat, standing from a small distance.]

Those are probably occupied, if you're looking for a place to stay. The apartments have a lot of open rooms, though.

[Action/I HAD TO]

[quicktoanger]

It was long, slow going, but I was making better time than I had thought with my project. I had samples from most of the buildings, and I had already gotten the five primary anchor symbols and a few of the perimeters marked and activated.

My problem was, Rogue had made me self-conscious. I needed to figure out how to go about marking the secondary anchors without, y'know. Vandalizing.
I could add my own anchors, but they'd be obtrusive. I could bury them, but that might interfere with the movement of the energy, and I was already having enough trouble figuring out what to do about the damn rivers grounding out the entire piece.

And also, somebody was actually lurking near the anchor point I was heading toward. And I did not want to be the creepy guy lurking around doing weird things to people's houses in the middle of the night.

Well, damn. Alright then. Casual stride, relaxed stance. Just out for a stroll.

"Evening, ma'am."

[relictusdeus]

[With its two sets of eyes, a winged devil glares scowlingly upon the village from a rooftop, clawed hands trembling restlessly at its sides. A creature of war and chaos, every fibre of its being is starved for the carnage and bloodshed it has enjoyed for years; but it possesses neither the will nor the power to disobey the creature whom has both spawned and tamed him.

And so it watches and it waits for a single command, for the slightest hint of murderous intent that will propel it through the darkness, snarling and ripping and tearing.

By its side, a second devil sits at ease on the edge of the roof, one leg dangling lazily, the other drawn to his chest. Something piques his attention and he turns his head, alert and aware. A wicked being this way comes. A creature of the night. He can feel it; and when Drusilla appears, drifting through the village, he wonders if this is the owner of the voice that had tried to tempt him with power. For all he knows, there could be more than one female vampire prowling Luceti.]

…Have you come looking for a warm glass of milk before bed?

[He asks, lowly.]

[bloodwaif]

Drusilla, too, is walking and humming. The tune is one children in London learn at a very young age and sing to each other whilst holding hands and dancing in circles.

What strikes the vampire as odd is how very much the woman she sees walking through town is sending her vibes of watcher. And not just ANY watcher -- the most troublesome Sunnydale one. Dru swings into step about ten yards behind the other woman and starts to sing quietly:

"Ring around the rosy...pocket full of posies..."

HOOOOKAY POOR PONY

[bloodwaif]

Dogs? Dru hates the beasts so much. There had been dogs in Romania. There had been dogs in the darkest alleys of London, almost as wild as she was. The vampire wipes blood from her chin and slides behind a tree, peering out to see who is riding toward her at such a pace.

Imagine her surprise when this creature has no rider...

[bloodwaif]

[Dru draws back when she notices the man noticing her, but she doesn't run away. He looks familiar; she thinks she's spoken to him before.

Instead, she drums her fingertips on the windowpane, tapping out an odd little rhythm. She smiles at him.]

EEEE

[bloodwaif]

The apartments have open rooms? [She repeats this and smiles at this newcomer. He looks like the solid, military type. He looks like the sort that Spike wouldn't like at all.]

Even for a lost lamb like myself?

[Maybe in the darkness he cannot see the blood. It makes a pretty pattern on the white cotton, she decides. She will keep this dress.]

XD

[bloodwaif]

"Good evening, handsome sir," the vampire purred back at him. "Have you come from the theater? Did Ophelia survive?"

Dru roots for her every time.

Yeah, she would.

[quicktoanger]

Well. That was a bit odd. I smiled, trying hard not to look too terribly weirded out.

Did we even have a theater?

"... I think the only Hamlet adaptation where Ophelia survives is the Lion King."

I guess you could program a play into the battledome if you weren't hopeless with technology.

I'll never know. I'm hopeless with technology.

[bloodwaif]

[Dru looks up immediately with a little sound in the back of her throat. Him. She can tell it is him right away, the one she'd thought to turn.]

It was warm, and I've drunk it all. My belly's full now, favored of Dracula.

Re: EEEE

[fuckthemission]

[In the dark? Not really. All he sees is white and dark blue where he stands; while he's familiar with blood splashed on someone, he hovers toward mud. Because she's smaller than him, and clearly in need of help—and he's still too new to be entirely cautious, though he does keep a gun at his lower back for all intensive purposes.

Just a normal lady, as far as he can see. He smiles, though the dark probably does her as many favors as it does him, as far as he knows. At least she may be able to verify her military-type theory by the jangle and brief shine of dogtags around his neck.]

Even a lost lamb. There should be a list. Uh... [He motions beyond to where the welcome center would be.] In the Welcome Center not to far from here. It's got a list of all the open rooms in the apartments, and it's open, first come first serve.

[A pause, as he drops his hands to his hips, pursing his lips before he continues:]

You're okay? Did you just get here?

there's always hope until Act IV

[bloodwaif]

Drusilla was not really that good with late-20th-century Disney pop culture. At all.

"Don't like lions; the lion at the zoo is frightening. Clicks his teeth at you, click click!"

She snapped her own white, perfectly human-looking teeth together with two sharp clicks.

Sure, and maybe Juliet will wake up in time, too.

[quicktoanger]

... And another point on the weird-o-meter for that one. Was she making biting noises at me?

"Well, yeah, they were a bit more cuddly in the movies than they are in real life..."

... was that a doll?

[hismasterpiece]

[She very quickly cozies up to him, trying to take his arm. Trying to play up this little lost lamb angle as much as she can, because he looks tasty and glinting and soldiers always go down well.]

I'm new. [By way of explanation.] A new child in a dark place. Can you show me the way?

[hismasterpiece]

"I like the movies! Spike brought me to a movie, once. We sat in the back row, all the way in the back! It smelt like melting butter and urges." Yes, indeed, she had made biting noises. But now Dru subsides into the most demure waif-like woman she can manage, tucking her doll close to her side.

The doll's lips are stained red, too -- though it might just look like a smudge of dirt in the darkness.

[quicktoanger]

Man, the doll was messy. And so was her dress, actually.

... Okay, yeah. I was beginning to think something was amiss here.

"... Are you alright, miss?"

[fuckthemission]

[... Okay. He furrows his brow, unsure if arm grabbing is a good idea because. Well. Because. Something about her definitely eccentric, but so far his only real sign of danger in Luceti have been robots. If only he remembered that this place might as well be called 'Storybookland'. He clears his throat, and the moment he has a suitable chance he carefully slips out of her hold, side-stepping toward the direction of the Center, rubbing his nose and trying to pretend he totally didn't just ignore her arm.]

Uhuh. Right. Just follow me; it's not that far off.

[Don't feel too bad, ma'am, he's just not so sure he wants you all up on him like that. And as long as you don't walk into any light-source and show him your gross art display, he'll at least try to guide her there. It's cold enough that the smell of blood, dried or no, is lost on his nose.]

The name's Rick Doyle. Got a name?

[hismasterpiece]

"Lonely. I've been ever-so-lonely here, sir, without my family. I need a new family I think; the right sorts of playmates." She sighed and smoothed out the front of her dress. "And no chaperone, no chaperone at all."

[hismasterpiece]

Drusilla. Have I frightened you? I frighten some men. [This she admits freely, not ceasing admiring glances in his direction.] Some men run. You don't seem to me a runner, Rick Doyle. That is not in your stars.

[quicktoanger]

... Lonely. I could see how a place like this could do that.

"... Name's Dresden. Harry Dresden. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

I offered her a handshake with the name, but something about all of this was giving me the wiggins. Maybe we weren't alone out here?

[herd_effect]

[It's dark out by the time Willock starts making his way back from the library, a thick textbook under his arm, overcoat and fedora on against the cold. He spots the woman peeking into windows as he heads towards CH #7--is that a New Feather? Concerned and wanting to offer help, he approaches her.]

Miss?

[hismasterpiece]

She took his hand, demure as ever -- cold as a glacier creeping over a LANDSCAPE OF BLOOD.




LIKE A BLOODSLUSHIE.



"Chaperone me?" she asked.