❈ The Verde River Bar & Inn ❈ Needs new members!

Yes, no, maybe-so?

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Total Votes:			[ 28 ]

[Rose Scented]

After having been “dismissed” by Nivek the Sinister, Toby had left the bar in an attempt to locate Max.

He had searched high and low, somehow always just missing him as Max, in turn, searched for him though finally he had some luck as he heard Max’s familiar, thudding footsteps leading up the attic stairs and towards the window that Nivek often left open to let in some air. He was just breeching the doorway into the attic when he saw the bottom sole of Max’s shoe disappear through the opening to the window, and he slowly meandered his way over as well, his heart picking up a strange, thudding rhythm that made his hands feel cold, his feet tingle and his stomach tighten uncomfortably. He had found it silly that he, even for a moment, had hosted the idea of lying to Maxwell about such an important thing as to his identity, and had already decided that he was going to tell Max the full truth, but his resolve seemed to weaken as he traversed closer and closer to the conversation that lie ahead.

Tobias knew of Max’s hatred for supernatural’s.
But for some reason.. He didn’t care.

Carefully stepping through the window, ducking through with his long, lean form, Tobias drew up to his full height once on the roof and paced forward over the familiar terrain.

His lips parted and his arm lifted as he went to speak to Max ( there was a certain amount of disapproval on Toby’s face, as he had watched him light a cigarette which smelled acidic and burned his sensitive nose ), however before he could react the sky opened up into a loud cacophony of sound, a flash of lightning zigging across the sky in an awesome display of power, and with his contempt swiftly changing to horror Toby took three, stumbling steps forward, his hand clawing at the back of Max’s shirt.

Once.
Twice.
Missed him by an inch.

“Max! No!” He cried, but he wouldn’t catch onto the cliché just yet.

Bending at the knees he dropped down onto the roof and placed his hands on the edge before leaning forward until he could peer over the edge as the sky opened up and poured sheets of cold rain down onto his back, plastering his clothing to his body and flattening his hair to his skull. Just before the cold downpour started he had caught sight of Max laying on an untrimmed bush, not that far of a fall and broken with a softer surface than the ground. He should, by all technical means, be alright.

Popping onto the balls of his feet – thinly clasped in Converse – Tobias shifted his weight up in a slight bounce, and then propelled himself forward, hopping from the edge of the roof before falling down, down, down; his legs stretched downward, the balls of his feet connecting with the ground before his knees bent to absorb the overall shock of the surface, though his ankles still ground together in protest. Ignoring the pain he stood upright, stalked forward with weary emotions crossing his face, and knelt by the now soaked and cold man. He bent, pressed his index and middle finger to his neck and thankfully found a pulse. As relief flooded over him his head ducked down and a deep breath was exhaled, his breath pluming out in front of him before he scooped the man into his arms, cradled him close, and set off across the lawn and towards the back door. With a rather solid and launching kick right next to the handle, he continued inward leaving the door hanging off the hinges behind him.

He swiftly took Max to his room, moved with him into the bathroom, and sat down on the edge of the tub, keeping the man on his knees and held close to his overwhelming and almost suffocating heat as he filled the tub with warm water. Slowly he lowered the man in, allowing the water to rush up and smother out the chill from the icy, Fall rains.

Tobias then sat down on the floor by the tub, and watched to see if Max would awaken, worry etched on his face.

[DeliriousInnovations]

_______Maxwell { M A X } Dawson
____________Location: The Verde River; his bathroom.
____________Company: Tobias.
____________Wearing: Slacks, dress shirt, dress shoes, disheveled ponytail.
____________Theme

____________

After a moment, a groan would escape his lips, but he wouldn't move to achieve any more comfort; the only subconscious stirring being the shifting of his head, eyelids closed tightly against the innumerable amount of thoughts, sensations, and anxieties that milled about his mind. His limbs were sprawled outward rather awkwardly, caught in a dreadfully discomforting combinations of thorny branches, rough leaves, and a nest of spiders. The damned orb-weavers loved to settle in these kinds of spaces, and currently, he would have to assume that at least a group of them were scuttling about confusedly across his body, exploring the new canvas of possible frontier. if he hadn't felt so numbed by a mixture of pain and dissipating effects of pills, he might have jolted in fear (he despised spiders, afterall) or even moved to get out of the goddamn bush, but he couldn't. He was much too sore, much too fragile a state to even care. He was wet due to the rain, cold, and wounded in more ways than just one; his semi-unconscious state didn't seem to mind being draped pathetically within a bush, as long as it meant he didn't have to deal with the outside world: Abigail, Anna, his unit, Jed, suicide, all of it.

This state, however, was very soon interrupted. Movement protruded the surrounding shrubbery, and in another moment, he felt himself being lifted. Mind still reluctant to gain full consciousness, he would only faintly feel the drifting of movement, as well as the warmth of another individual close to him. The last he was aware of was the subtle creaking of his bathroom door, and the hissing of an oncoming spray of water. As he was lowered within the tub, his body would immediately feel the heat, but it was only after a couple minutes that his eyes flitted open, hazel gaze landing at first on his own body, observing the fact that he was, quite sincerely, placed within a tub. His bathtub.

The next, his mind would naturally and instinctively question, and in the yearning for an answer, he would look to the unfamiliar figure before him. It would all sink in quite slowly within his mind, and it would take him a moment to truly react.

Stranger. Bathroom.

He was immediately panicked. It was true that he knew that whoever this stranger was had done him a service by removing him from a bush, but the fact that he was unfamiliar and yet so comfortable doing this sort of thing naturally brought suspicion. This wouldn't be the first time his Father had hired someone else other than Kane to keep watch on him, and to assure that (especially after his attempted suicide) all would be taken care of. He shifted in the tub, holding back the yearning to outburst completely; stiffly, his chest would rise and fall, eyes intent on the man before him, widened by a certain intensity similar to a cramped, caged animal.

"Who are you?" Would be all that he would mutter, the inquiry leaving his lips in a croaked mutter that threatened to release oncoming menace; it was a defensive maneuver, something a snake would hiss in the direction of a predator.



((OOC: ))

[Rose Scented]

While he waited for Max to stir, Tobias sat cross legged a foot or so from the tub with his elbows planted firmly on his knees, his head in his hand; water droplets rolled from the thick, sandy colored hair atop his head, plopping silently onto the fluffy rug he was seated on, and his body shivered ever so slightly as the cold from the rain finally penetrated his heat. But still, he sat there and waited, his mind reeled back and forth from one idea to the next as worst case scenarios popped into his head like some sort of horrid movie reel, filmed right out of his own nightmares. The one most prevalent at the moment was that Max would catch pneumonia and die, leaving him alone and without ever having been able to tell him.. Well, anything. After all, he had been a dog for the majority of their companionship.

Hearing the sound of the water sloshing with movement, his head jerked up and relief flooded through his familiar chocolate brown eyes, tinged with just a hint of animalistic yellow. For a moment he simply stared at Max, his mouth gone dry before a smile cracked open over his lips, and he ducked his head, scratching the back of his scalp sheepishly before shrugging softly.

“I’m a friend.” He said quietly, leaning back for a moment before standing and turning to the closet that hosted the towels. He selected one, laid it down next to the tub, and then managed a second shrug. “Take a shower, get dried off, put something warm on, and then we’ll talk. I don’t want you getting sick. And I swear to God, Max, if you're not out there in fifteen minuets I'll come in here and make you get warm again.”

With that and a silent nod, Tobias turned and left the bathroom.
Once the door was closed he leaned back against it, where his palm met with his forehead with a definitive smack.

He felt rather stupid and ridiculous for thinking that this would ever work in his favor; Max was never going to feel comfortable conversing with a man that used to be no more than a dumb mutt. What was he thinking?!

A second towel was produced from inside the closet in the bedroom and he used it to dry off as best as he could, removing his light cargo jacket and tossing it to the side before stripping off his shirt as well. His torso was dried, his shirt rung out into his water bowl, and then drawn back on. The towel he’d used was placed down on a chair to protect it from his sopping jeans before he plopped down onto it, and placed his head back into his hands, muttering under his breath about his own stupidity as he worked over what to say when/if Max ever decided to come out of the bathroom. From what Toby’d seen so far, it had been quite a day for the man and he wouldn’t be surprised if Max decided to hibernate in there until things calmed down quite a bit.

[DeliriousInnovations]

_______Maxwell { M A X } Dawson
____________Location: The Verde River; his room.
____________Company: Tobias.
____________Wearing: Nothin' but a towel.
____________Theme

____________

Honestly, the fellow certainly bewildered him, though he couldn't quite place whether such puzzlement was in a curious manner or simply a cautious one. His manner of phrasing him left him confused a moment, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing as if to convey question. He would... What? Make him get warm again? He was quite confused as to whether the statement was supposed to be a threat, or taken sarcastically, or taken as a... Joke? Claiming to be a 'friend' was more than just a vague answer, and as normally, he would urge himself to proceed with caution. Peculiarly, the man seemed to know his way around his quarters, which seemed to especially discomfort him. Where had he learned to roam about his place so casually? The mute inquiry seemed to send an electrifying chill through his nerves, and after the other left, he paused a moment, lingering in the warm tub in silence.

We'll talk later. I'm a friend. Fifteen minutes.

He finally emerged from the tub, slipping off the slacks and dress shirt that had stuck to his skin, before draining the tub and starting the shower. What was this... The third time he'd taken a shower today? It had to be. With the extensive use of the bathroom, he nearly felt that it had been three passing mornings, and that he was caught in a strange torrent of trembling time. Once in the shower, however, his mind would deeply contemplate the issue at hand, instinctively pushing back other grievances that might have occurred earlier in the day; simultaneously, he would be certain to take particular care of the wound at his head from where he had been hit earlier, washing the dried blood and similar substances from his hair. From his fall, his body was marked with a few cuts from the jagged branches of the bush, but nothing terribly significant; it seemed that to his luck, there hadn't been a random series of particularly lethal branches below to impale him. Jesus. For a moment, he shut his eyes, welcoming the hot spray onto his face as he contemplated... When had been the last he had fell off of the roof? Ah, yes. Christmas. Ah, but that had been far different than falling and landing in a bush, as opposed to tangling oneself up in Christmas lights and descending into the pool. Part of the reason he had made the choice to reconstruct the damned thing so it was indoors.

So many thoughts, and so little time, it seemed; in a few minutes, he was out of the shower, though for now, he was left without a change of clothes; in the mornings, Nivek would usually prepare him a suit, but it was... God. What time was it? He knew it had been dark outside, but that was the last he could remember. For now, he wrapped a towel around his waist, and another around his shoulders, realizing that it seemed far more chilly in his bathroom than he had last remembered. Now, he supposed he was expected to meet whoever this stranger was, and in a few moments, he would likely be united with him. Alone. In his room.

Max could never be too cautious, such was the case with his paranoia. He paused only briefly to find his old razor blade, a sleek silver, sharpened and ready for use; he wouldn't leave his bathroom without assurance that he had protection if the situation called for it, and thus, the blade was tucked inside his palm, hand hidden beneath the white towel that hung at his shoulders. It was only then that he would step out of the bathroom, body holding a certain stiffness that could only be described as anxiety-spurred vigilance.

((OOC: ))

[DeliriousInnovations]

______Nivek Lihovi
______Location: The Verde River; the hallway
______Company: Abigail.
______Wearing: The usual top, dark pants, sleek dress shoes.

____________He found it intriguing that the woman was attempting to hold firm ground, as if planting her feet in position would do her any good. He paused a moment from his pacing, as if contemplating thoughtfully upon her words, before his yellow eyes flickered across her, tongue again poking out from his jagged teeth. "Nn..." He hissed, tilting his pale head,"...How rude. I was just trying to be polite, darling." Inquiring about her predator was, of course, something far more than just attempting to be polite; they both knew that, as equally as they both knew that he was toying with her. Even so, he had quite a bit to speak about, and was beginning to enjoy this heated dialogue; he wished to smell the fear permeate from her body, mixed with the odor of her newly revealed blood. For now, he continued his slow, contemplative pace around her, his clouded gaze never quite leaving her position. "I don't think this is worth discussing. I know as much as you do that this monster you're running from will find you." To put forth the opinion that such a thing would not happen was preposterous. Abigail was being hunted. Her hunters would track her. To enunciate his point, he finished the last of his sentence, words protruding the subtle light within the room in particularly critical manner,"And they'll find you here."

There would be another pause, and he shifted only to move his hands to the back of him, where his fingers would interlace; and eventually, he would again continue his pacing. "My reasons are justified as equally as yours are." He began to explain, the words leaving in a particularly informative manner that would dare to be argued with; Nivek's philosophy seemed something unbreachable simply because of its sheer simplicity and rawness, and its ability to convey simple and nearly primitive levels of unspoken truth. "It is part of the sequence of life that all conflicts must resolve in some way or another; one is simply overcome by the other, stronger influence. It is in our nature to abide to these sorts of circumstances." He lifted his head from his empty gaze, yellow eyes flickering against the light; if one looked carefully, the corners of his eyes were beginning to redden... But this was not from emotion, nor was it from any form of allergies. Nonetheless, he continued,"As is the same in regards to the relationship of the wolf and the sheep."

Another dreadful pause.

"That being said..." A smile pulled at the corner of his lips, revealing the wicked white rows of teeth. "...I believe you've wandered a bit too far from your flock, witch."

And in that instant, he was again moving forward, this time (if she again couldn't move quickly out of the way) knocking her completely off-balance; when she tumbled to the ground, he would dig one of his wooden heels upon the bottoms of his dress shoes into her wrist, the other shoe resting heavily and painfully upon her chest. It was beginning to become difficult for Nivek to contain himself; his pupils, however useless to him, had become dilated with the need to kill and to feast, his tongue now remaining outside of his own mouth.


((OOC: ))

[Rose Scented]

As he sat and waited for Max to emerge from the shower, Tobias folded forward and placed his elbows sharply on the wet soon-to-chafe material of his jeans, and he dropped his head into his large palms, scratching his skull and behind his ears in utter frustration before finally he scrubbed his hands down his face and stood aggressively from the chair to pace to and fro before the window. Under his breath came the sound of muttered curses, insults and frustrations uttered at himself, his hands thrown about vigorously before his own frame.

When the sound of the bathroom door sounded, his aggravated actions ceased and he turned sharply to where Max now stood, clad only in two towels and still with dripping wet hair that plodded onto the terrycloth against his shoulders, and Toby frowned, very obviously displeased with this development. “Damnit, Max. I said to put on something warm.” He said quietly, though there was an undertone of pure menace in his voice that was deep, grainy and purely masculine. He turned and made his way to the dresser, yanking open the appropriate door with a rather savage wrench of his curled fist, and from within he pulled a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, a white, cotton long sleeve shirt that was much warmer than it looked, and a pair of socks. These he tossed at Max with a simple flick of his wrist, furled fingers uncurling to launch the articles across the room where, unless caught, they would smack right into max’s face.

Tobias had wonderful aim.

That done he nodded sharply and would place his hands expectantly and not-so-patiently on his hips to wait for Max to dress, obviously unphased by the fact that it would mean Max would be nude before him. “I won’t talk, until you’re dressed.” He said seriously, his chocolate and yellow eyes flashing not only dangerously, but also somewhat threateningly, as though telling Max silently that should he not listen and do as he’s told, Toby would dress him forcibly.

[Rin128564]

`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´
ÅℬɨℊÅɨʆ ℒɨʆʆɨÅɲ ɣeretti
`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´

Bo, the weasel

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____Everything she had gone through the past year was for nothing now. This supposed safe place was nothing but another death trap. It should no longer surprise Abigail anymore, because ever since birth she had been facing a battle with death and his puppets, this demon, this servant yet another puppet. It would seem that her destiny was ultimately death whether it came quick and painless, or long and agonizing. The way things were going since birth, it would seem that it was the long and agonizing kind. She watched him carefully and simply hoped that Bo would come back with Max to pull his damned servant away. But after that then what? Abigail figured he's probably have to leave yet again. No one wanted her around it seemed and even though she just woke up and had yet to even eat she would have to go out in the world and be exposed again. Max didn't want anyone to die here so she would probably ditch Bo and go kill herself somewhere just to end all this god forsaken torment. Abigail watched him carefully and listened to his words that were oh so true. She couldn't deny the fact that he was right, that she would be found eventually but she was sure it would take them a couple days or weeks to get here. By then she would be strong again and move on. She was never planning on staying here to endanger anyone, that was something she didn't wish upon anyone. Her heart sank straight down to the pit of her stomach where the acid would devour what was left of it. She became a blank slate, the only sign of emotion was the single tear trickle down her cheek. It wasn't from fear or sorrow...it was simply from exhaustion. She couldn't take this anymore, but there was that large part of her that didn't want to die either.

He had finished talking at some point and she had parted her lips to say something but then again there was nothing to say. Also, she was taken down to the floor. Abigail didn't even realize he had moved toward her until she now laid there pinned. One foot on her wrist and another on her chest. Her free hand automatically moved to his leg and tried moving it off since it was hard for her to even breath but she was far too weak. He had easily gotten what he wanted despite her determination to fight. Her body just wouldn't respond anymore. For a moment she stared up at him and she no longer saw Nivek but the same pair of big red eyes. The same eyes that little Abigail had muttered to Max during his drug trip. Yes, that fear consumed her and she began to struggle to desperately get away. Not knowing what else to do she risked it. She simply used what manna she had left and muttered the spell very quickly, her body suddenly becoming translucent where she simply rolled away as his feet landed on the floor. Now free and with what small amount of energy she had left she began to crawl away, toward the exit of the dinning room to try and find Bo...or Max. There was no doubt in her mind that it was all over now. All those years of fighting for her life was for nothing. She just regretted that she was never able to end her life herself. At least it was done by her own hands and it was done quickly/painlessly.


((OOC: ))

[DeliriousInnovations]

_______Maxwell { M A X } Dawson
____________Location: The Verde River; his room.
____________Company: Tobias.
____________Wearing: Nothin' but a towel.
____________Theme

____________

The man's words would only reignite several questions that seemed to have resisted popping up earlier, and he found himself unable, for a moment, to respond to his statements, far too caught up in the thoughts that wandered sparatically about his head. How did this man even know his name? Jesus. It was just... Too strange; he couldn't help but feel that the individual before him was speaking to him in a manner that almost forced him to believe that they had known eachother from somewhere, though Max knew that to be impossible... Unless, of course, it was one-sided. As he had contemplated before, this wouldn't be the first time his biological Father had sent someone down other than Kane to keep an eye on him; oftentimes, it was only natural that they knew his name and where to enter and exit his home and room. But even that, being the only logical answer he could truly provide to this situation, didn't make that much sense. Perhaps it was because this man was over-confident, or his nature was different than that of the others; but the way he moved around, such as his instinctual movement to his drawer, almost indicated that he had been there before. That, or he had been watching from afar for a long time, which again, didn't seem like anything likely; Richard hadn't had someone drop by on him in quite a few years, and to hire some guy to dedicate hours to memorizing the layout of his room seemed... Unnecessary.

His thoughts were interrupted when he found clothes in his face, and he jolted a bit, single free hand moving to catch the bundle that began to fall. The menacing tones in the other's voice caused his chest to tighten a bit, and for a moment, he would simply stand there; naturally, his eyes would flit away from the other's gaze, eyelids batting at the sudden illustration of force he knew was to be expected. It was then that in his mind, he would conclude that this man was not to be dealt with lightly, and that whatever the reason he was here for, Max felt truly discomforted by the fact that he was so... Confident in his new and obvious inclination towards authority.

But what was he to do?

Sure, he could threaten him with the blade that his hand clutched dearly to his heart, but what would that accomplish? It would only heighten the hostility, at this point in time; he knew it was wiser to use the weapon only if it seemed absolutely necessary, and if the other moved to strike first. On the other hand, he didn't want to change into his clothes, especially in front of an individual that displayed an obvious superiority-complex. He felt already quite bare standing before him, a majority of his abdomen revealed and decorated with the countless scars he had received during his time in the service; he rarely displayed such scars in front of anyone, let alone a complete stranger that seemed to have burst into his chambers.

Finally, he seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. His head would raise again, and his hazel eyes would meet the other's, firmly placing the word in the air between them,"...No." His facial features had tightened quite a bit, jaw twitching and pulsing from the enormous strain such words would burden the hesitant man with,"I want to know why you're here... Who you are, and what the hell it is you want." He tried to remain strong, but naturally, his words croaked within his throat, though he would easily attempt to shrug it off with plausible excuses; he was tired, he might have had too many smokes, he fell from a goddamn building. He cleared his throat, and from beneath the towel wrapped about his shoulders, his fingers tightened around the blade. "This is my room. I'm not about to be ordered around like some kid."

((OOC: ))

[Rose Scented]

No.

The word resounded with a certain angering clarity that sat Tobias’ hair on end and he frowned, his lips setting into a deep, thin line that slashed across his face like an angry war wound; his eyes hardened and his muscles tensed as he forced himself to remain standing perfectly still, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side, his hands balled into large, furious weapons. Had he not been in better control of himself, Tobias may have punched Max, but he was in control of every facet of his body, and instead he chose to stand there and stare the man down for several long, unending moments.

When Toby did decide to speak, he took four steps forward until he was near nose to nose with Max, and lifted his hands.

Large palms carefully grasped Max’s stubble covered cheeks, the pads of his thumbs grazing softly across his cheek bones as Tobias urged Max to look into his eyes, his chin ducked slightly to bring them to an eye level ( Toby towered over the other man ). When he would finally catch Max’s gaze, however hesitant it may be, he would peer deep into his hazel eyes, his brow furrowed. “Do you really not know me?” He would ask bare above a whisper, forcing Max to confront the truth that he had to already know, didn’t he?

Toby’s hair was the same sandy shade of his canine fur, his eyes the same, his general scent the same, how on earth could Max not recognize him? It didn’t make any sense..

[DeliriousInnovations]

_______Maxwell { M A X } Dawson
____________Location: The Verde River; his room.
____________Company: Tobias.
____________Wearing: Nothin' but a towel.
____________Theme

____________

Ah, Jesus. He could already begin to see the agitation seeping into the man's tall frame; it was obvious in the tensing of his muscles, the moment of agonizing rigidness, and the strained features upon his face... Unmistakably ridden with the boiling anger that threatened to burst through its hardened surface. When the man moved forward, Max didn't back away, but again his fingers would tighten readily upon the blade close to his chest, ready to slash in any given direction if need be; certainly he wouldn't be surprised if the other chose to swat at him a few times, but that, in turn, would give him the excuse to use his means of defense. Afterall, he hadn't seemed to observe earlier that the other man was particularly tall, and thus, a brawl was marked nearly out of the question, especially due to the current state of his own disheveled body.

He would wait patiently, however, for the right moment to strike. Even as the man approached and paused nearly a couple inches away from his own face, he hardly moved a muscle, knowing that if he dared to inflict earlier than necessary, it could result in his own demise. The man obviously wasn't there to chit-chat, (or at least it seemed, judging by his authorative attitude) nor did it seem that he was there to quietly keep an eye on him, much like his Father's men might have. His muscles stiffened, shoulders pronounced in his stature, and he would shiver a bit at the touch of the other's palms against his face; his eyes threatening to reveal the flinch that he felt like was beginning to crawl up his spine.

But however much he felt the urge to blatantly attack-- To get this stranger off of him and out of his room-- he couldn't. Not because, necessarily, he had developed any sort of relationship with the other individual that would prevent him from doing so, but because the other simply hadn't initiated it. There was no act of violence involved as of yet. Max was never one to simply lash out physically at another human being unless provoked; he was a much too sympathetic and careful man to do so.

He felt his head lifted a bit, and his gaze was forced into that of the stranger's. The question took him by surprise; not only by the sheer suddenness of the inquiry, but simply by the way he had said it. The whisper was hardly anything comparable to the demanding voice he had heard only moments ago. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he would stutter,"N..." He began to say, but again, his gaze ran over his features as if to make certain that he hadn't somehow known this man in the past. There was certainly something familiar about him, but he couldn't see it; whatever familiarity he might have sensed was far too distant or distorted by unfamiliar physical attributes, much like an infant's appearance in comparison to his or her adult form. "...No. I dunno. Maybe." He muttered, but the skepticism was not clear of his voice. Hazel eyes running one last time over his features, he shook his head, shutting his eyes gently a moment in conclusion. "No." He finally answered,"I don't recognize you."

He didn't know what to expect next, but whatever the case, his blade was still ready beneath his towel.

((OOC: ))

[DeliriousInnovations]

______Nivek Lihovi
______Location: The Verde River; the cellar.
______Company: No one.
______Wearing: The usual top, dark pants, sleek dress shoes.

____________It was clear that the woman was giving up; finally she was beginning to weaken and succumb to the exhaustion that spawned from the depletion of the little energy that remained inside that petite vessel of hers, and at last, his prey would only now begin to relinquish itself to him. Like the prolonged grasp of the lion's teeth against the thick neck of the bison, the tedious task would eventually be payed off by this sort of victory, and the huge beast would eventually surrender to the hungry jaws of the creature that had so vigilantly cradled its life.

But he was hungry, and patience was not without reward.

It always felt as though he had waited far too long for this kind of replenishment, and already he seemed to be vividly experiencing immediate satisfaction, simply from the thought and indication that, soon, he would have what he had yearned for: To win the game. And win the game he was about to do.

However, in this instance, a multitude of things would seem to interrupt the fabric of space and time; an occurrance he hadn't even expected, nor could he gain the ability to predict. He had heard other footsteps in the back of his mind-- Quickened, heavy paces that could only be a result of running-- But at this time, such a thing would fall into the least of his priorities. He needed to finish this, afterall; but at that gesture, he would fall into another state of temporary bafflement. Beneath him, hie felt his feet begin to sink, something similar, he supposed, to the sensation one may feel when they may step upon dampened sand. His gaze, however useless to him, would immediately move to glance below him, as if the gesture would do him any good. It had not been the first instance he had faced a witch, and in a few moments, his quick mind would realize that the woman was abruptly attempting to use the last of her energy in a purely defensive manner, sort of as a last resort; she was disappearing, or otherwise becoming translucent from beneath him, very similar to that of a ghost... Though he had encountered those folk before, and such instances bore very few similarities.

He could not let this happen.

In less then a fraction of a second, his face would contort into a purely savage snarl, nose wrinkling distastefully and yellowed eyes narrowing into something vivid and wild, teeth bared menacingly at the woman below him. He would not let her escape. Although in this state she seemed 'untouchable', Nivek certainly knew how to work into her nerves. For that, however, he would need a few incantations and that dreadful weasel. It seemed that before he could even hope to act, however, a noise protruded his senses violently, cracking painfully across the air; a simultaneous rush of angry voice that might have been calling his name, but was far too rage-driven and overcome by the blast that it was hardly recognizable.

"Nivek!"

Even so he heard it echo. And then there was silence.

Drip, drip, drip. In a moment, he would slowly lower his clouded gaze downward, reminiscing on the coppery scent he knew was there, and the substance that was beginning to pool at his shoes. There was only the subtle, careful lift of his hand as it made its long trek to the exit wound, fingertips barely brushing against the neat hole in the center of his abdomen. The scent of his own blood lingered, as well as that of another familiar entity he hadn't seen since last year; Kane had made himself present, as well as the opponent. He could hear Kane's stiffened breathing from where he stood at the intersection at the hallway, could smell the gunpowder still lingering in the air.

"Not this time, Nivek."

The sentence left Kane's mouth in an anger-trembled manner, but the half-satyr would not react; in fact, there would only be an empty pause in the air as his lanky frame simply stood there, before at last he stirred.

Nivek turned and walked away.

Only when he had drifted out of view did his pace stagger, and his dark form slumped against the wall. There would only be the dotted trail of blood, hallway trickled with crimson, that the lone figure would leave behind. His next movements were numbed and purely instinctual, he retreated to the only place that he knew to be his own, disappearing into the darkened cellar. After leaving the support of the wall, and once inside, he would limp towards a rather mundane-looking, bleak wooden table, the only items across its surface being a single bottle of wine, and a equally lonesome glass. He sat heavily in his chair, and yet, as he poured his drink, his movement was stiffened; if one hadn't recognized the gaping wound in his body, it would seem that he was perfectly fine.

One glass of red wine, poured.
A trembling hand would raise the substance to his lips.


((OOC: ))

[Iris Lunaria]

∑∞ Esmeralda Tate ∞∑

The depths of sleep found her swiftly. It never took much to get her asleep but to keep her there was quite the challenge. She stood there. Bright lights dragged her out of surrounding crowds and placing her on a pedestal with quite a worthy drop. Above her was a leading peek of a blue and white tent. The luring scents of popcorn, cotton candy, and other fattening carnival meats invaded her nostrils as she parted the said lids. In front of her stool her companion across the way. A thin rope separated the two but that never excluded the smile, built on a private relationship that only they shared, seen across that dainty tight rope. Ezzy’s lips would move, well red painted muscles sounding the following; ‘I love you’. Even the mere lip work of the words, without the sense of sound, seemed too loud for the silence the both of them now shared.

Across the rope stood a stunning figure of which caused Ezzy’s heart to beat like none other had ever created. Tall, slender, long blond hair, stunning green eyes that always called Ezzy in and held her as no other could. Naturally, she had a rack and a** that could kill. A matching pair that Ezzy often worshiped. Those piercing green orbs stared back at Ezzy and, with a nod, she took one step forth. Ezzy watched with a ferocious concentration. For, she wasn’t there to await her turn on the tight rope, no. She wore the sequence outfit, tight in all the right areas, and acted as the support team. Beneath them was the lack of reassurance should she fall. Should her beloved Lillith fall.

The band began their instrumental encouragement. Playing a light and dainty tune worthy of such elegant movements. The muscles in Lillith’s legs tighten as she kept her grip along the rope. A cute and admirable action but, however it was only acting. She continued across the rope, inch by inch, and was about half way. The secret smile, that lovely locked eye contact between Lillith and Ezzy, played out in silence until a loud boom was heard. Ezzy turned, glancing below them, to see an enraged gentleman waving a gun about.

Her own erratic movements within the bed would grow to thank her for slumbering in something of such size. A faint toss and a violent twitch, left her hand to hit the table next to her. The nightmare still swam comfortably unwelcomed within her mind as the lightest sound of a bell rang across the silence. Her chest rose and fell, the essence of the dream catching up with her just as her finger tips moved to accidently knock the bell from the table. The small metal object rolled about until it came to a stop underneath the bed. Even then, her dream continued to consume her.

[Rin128564]

`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´
ÅℬɨℊÅɨʆ ℒɨʆʆɨÅɲ ɣeretti
`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´

Bo, the weasel

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

____The last of her energy was wasted and now, despite how much she wanted to move she could not. Her body was done and she would be forced to lay there and succumb to what was going to happen next. Her sense quickly became dull and everything was nothing but blurry noise. Whoever spoke and whatever happened as all obscured. No doubt she wanted to go back to sleep though if she did she'd probably fall back into another 'coma' so Abigail had no choice but to lay on the floor with her eye lips half closed and her eyes glazed over. If it wasn't for her subtle breathing one would thing she was dead. Then again who wouldn't look dead after wasting all their energy and begin unable to move any part of their body. Whatever happened to Nivek he deserved it and much more but not like she could be sure that more happened to him. Abigail wasn't in the condition to have used what energy she had in the first place but she didn't have much of a choice. Though that hadn't been the worse part of it at all. Abigail was a lot more fragile then even she thought because Nivek had actually managed to break a rib when he stepped on her chest. That's what made it even harder to breath not to mention that she didn't want to go and puncture a long with the damn broken rib. She had a potion in her bag that repaired broken bones but she couldn't move so that was out of the question.

Bo had found his way back at this point and scurried over to her. He sat down by her head and put his paws on her forehead and looked at her to see how she was doing. Her bag was upstairs but the veil she needed was too delicate for him to handle so he had no choice but to ask who ever it was that helped Abigail in the first place. He sighed. He hated speaking with humans, but for now it was necessary. Bo scurried over to Kane and looked up at him before speaking, "Excuse me, do you mind retrieving something for me?" Who knew if this guy was even willing to do so. That was the thing about humans, they were unpredictable and most could careless about supernatural beings such as Abigail and others. This was all too frustrating and he certain wished he wasn't cursed in this body. He would have easily destroyed that stupid devil before he could even dare touch Abigail.
((OOC: ))

[DeliriousInnovations]

______Nivek Lihovi
______Location: The Verde River; the cellar.
______Company: No one.
______Wearing: The usual top, dark pants, sleek dress shoes.

____________The disorder that was inevitably, physically present did not seem so; it was muted quite successfully, if one may call it that, by the absurd silence and average action that followed. Nivek would do nothing but sip from his wine glass for several minutes, assuring that his movements were not timed, but natural and flowing, his indulgence in the drink as unpredictable as that of the lounging alcoholic. There was, however, a lacking of satisfaction in his actions, a significant absence of joy. The elegant wine was tasted, yes, but it seemed nearly tasteless; even for a figure as calm and rigid as Nivek, numbing the effects of a bullet with nothing but a glass of liquor and a insincere face would prove difficult. This had not been the first time he had been shot, and normally, he would be able to handle this kind of physical offense...

...However, he had been growing increasingly ill.

The curse was the source of his blindness, as was the weakening and slow, eventual deteriorating of his body. The last he had been shot had been quite a few decades ago, before he had lost his vision, and far before the effects of his illness had truly began to bloom within him and take on effect. These symptoms didn't come with benefits of any sort. A bullet was a bullet, and his sickened frame would have a much harder time handling such a thing than it might have in the past... It was simply how things would be. It disappointed him, yes; he preferred to have longevity not only in life but in combat, as he was meant to. Weakness would always be his enemy; mortality a deeply hidden fear. But that wasn't the most disappointing of his predicament, though it certainly was a strong one.

He had been shot. Point-blank. Like a dog.

Nivek was an individual absolutely intolerant of feeling inferior, and although his occupation nearly demanded that he present himself in such a manner, he didn't. He always kept a professional air about him, and unlike Abigail (whom, in the previous conversation, had chosen to dub Max as his 'Master'; when really, the case was nearly quite the opposite) he chose follow under the more intriguing title as simply a host. He spoke to his guests, inquired as to their wellbeing and their current needs, but did not receive orders, nor did he ever tolerate rudeness or criticism. He did his best to fulfill his own needs from his position, though it was hardly anything he truly yearned for. He was born a prince, not a servant. This fact would forever disgust him until he dragged it with him to his grave.

Which he, inevitably, felt would happen soon.

Among these thoughts, a small interruption was generated within the vibrations across the air, and his long ears twitched, clouded eyes again seeming to capture the dull presence of light... But only for a moment. Was that the bell? He could not be mistaken; one of the guests certainly needed assistance, and they needed it now. Although he found it rather peculiar that someone would ring the bell at such an hour, he supposed that it wasn't the strangest of requests he had faced, and immediately, he would raise to tend to it.

He drew back a moment to silently wince, the shock of his inability to contain such levels of pain disgusting him... At these indications, he knew now that he should likely tend to his wound, and he should soon, but among the many supplies kept within the cellar, none were of aid to him; they were all cleaning supplies, bleach, detergents... Nothing that would help him with his condition. For now, he supposed that the best he could do was tend to this business-- The fact that it was a late-night ordeal causing him suspect that such an errand would be rather quick-- and he slipped away, glass of wine still in hand. Luckily, as he remembered, he had not placed the source of the ringing far from his own dwelling, and the journey upon his limp wasn't a painfully long one. Before he entered, he made sure that the dark surroundings would lead his wound to blend in with his dark shirt, and once satisfied, he straightened; shoulders growing rigid, jawline stiffening, until at last he raised his knuckles and knocked upon the door.

After a pause, if there was one to be allowed with the vacancy of an answer, he would lean forward stiffly, slithering voice achieving level, unshaken words,"...Your requested service, madame." From there, he would briefly take a moment to unlock her door, before he slipped inside of the darkened room. The slow breathing that was audible was unmistakably that of a sleeping individual, though it seemed it would hitch every now and then as if disturbed. She was... Asleep? Surely his sense of hearing was not diminishing, either; this had to be the right room, otherwise he had true reason to doubt himself.

Either way, he needed to sit.

He rounded the bed, drifting silently across the room, until he came across a chair that lingered not a few paces away from the bedside, meant to be a lounge area; his lanky frame would sink into its plush surface, and there, he would wait a few moments; if she woke and continued with her inquiry, he would provide an answer, and if she slept, he would leave to tend to this new issue.


((OOC: bleh, my brain is kind of jumbled, so sorry for the weird-sounding posts xD ))

[Iris Lunaria]

∑∞ Esmeralda Tate ∞∑

The gleaming light, of the now visible gun, raced across the barrel to expose a carved skull and bone set engraving, a detail she would always remember. The brightness, the out of placement of this weapon, caused a grave alarm to rise within Ezzy. Her concentration had been broken and she knew it. She frantically dismissed the danger below them, her and her lover, and turned with worried eyes back to the initial start of her performance, to find the once half way crossed rope now horrifyingly empty. Her eyes widened, the silver within them, then painted with light cerulean hued specks, began to tear up as she searched. She shouted. She called. Her eyes scanned over to the other platform, the one opposite of her, before venturing off down below. She would silently pray that this, this moment right here and right now, was a mere dream with every passing inch that her eyes descended. There, along the bareness of the sand, with others from the audience scurrying about, she saw her. A beautiful red and black sequence attire swimming in the blood of the other. A mixture of hues tainted by the brown sand below. Her beloved Lillith prematurely and incorrectly placed within the shallowest of graves.

“NO!” She called out as she leaped up, sitting up, in the now oversized bed. Her heart raced, her chest long to free the over beating organ, as she shot up. Fresh tears began to stream from her parted lids, soothing themselves over her cheeks, and reminding her of her forever lost before she buried her light sobs into her hands. It wouldn’t take her long to re-bury the mess she had just dreamt, it never did. She hid much from the world but the lost of her love was the worse. She buried the pain, the disbelief that the other had, indeed, passed. The tears would end, no longer flowing from her silvery orbs, as she turned and searched for a tissue. Her eyes lingered over to the side, rushing over the empty side table, before they pulled in a pair of yellowish orbs staring back at her. The whiteness that encompassed them left her to part her lips as she let out a light yelp. A sound that was quick to end as her hands both came to her lips.

“I’m..I’m sorry...you caught me off guard.” She began before she paused, her eyes taking hold of a curious notion as she stared at him for a moment longer. Her tears had long dried by this point. There was nothing like an unexpected visit to rid one of fallen tears. She studied him, or what she could see of him. The shadows within the room, mixed with the help of his dark top, seemed to help him in his dark facade. Like a blanket of protection and a linger feel of safety. “What are you doing here? At this hour?” She inquired, her intentions brought to light as she moved the covers up a bit before tightening them around her slightly exposed waist. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, he had been so kind and gentleman like to her before, it was the oddness of the situation. Having him here, within her chambers, though rented, at this hour caused her to wonder about his intents. Had before just been a ruse? A mere game? Certainly not. She was asleep and he could have done well to take her then and there…while she was at her worst.

OOC: ((As if any of your posts sound weird razz ))