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Post by Countess on Oct 7, 2024 21:03:56 GMT
Desiree gets off the Subway, head swimming a little. It had been nice to sit, too nice, and she missed the stop that was nearest to her townhome. In her state, she has broken the most sacred of all rules.... the vow she made with her shoes at the start of the night. She had promised to keep them on... but no, now she is holding them by the straps, the heels dangling along with her purse. Des is very, very careful as she walks, looking down at every step. She's only a block from her place, it felt safe enough to give up, right?
Des licks her lips, the wine still making them more purple than pink. She has earbuds in, loosely, and no music plays. Just trying to get home while still being... a little aware of her surroundings. Most people find it difficult to hurt her, regardless. Most of her suffering is self inflicted.
As much as she is trying to be safe... Des is utterly preoccupied with thoughts of The Greater Good, the Good Fight, the Cause, Mutantkind! She lifts a hand to her temple, groaning a little. In all truths, she looks like a drunk stumbling home, but she is so far from it. One glass doesn't do this, but a overextension of her powers... At least she hasn't vomited. Not that it would be a new occurrence, just an unwelcome one.
Des had said she would help Nigel, on her terms, quietly. What does that even mean? How does she get herself in to these situations? But damn, that little breath when she touched him, that look of wonder, the absolute silence... Her power is just as addicting to her as it is to others. She wants to breathe him in the next time she touches him, take a piece of his soul, and hold it close to her own. Is that so wrong, to want a bit of someone else inside her? Her lips curl upwards, knowing just all the ways that could mean. She wants to sink her teeth into him, see how deep the layers go, her little martyr.
Could she be one, too? Could he shape her into one, like him? She doesn't think so... but she also never thought she would be working with her own kind again. Stranger things... Des breathes out, her power trickling back into being. She's less tired now, but she's still recovering. Slowly... but surely... getting home.
Be a shame if she weren't alone.
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Post by Beriadan on Oct 7, 2024 21:19:41 GMT
Some shadows were a little darker than others. The ancient horrors of the evening had been forgotten in these bright streets, but they had never gone away. Not truly. Some of them just adapted. They grew quietly, following humankind with a keen interest. Picking one fruit at a time. If they didn't draw attention, then they could do anything they fancied.
Dragon watched, unseen in the night. The woman was the kind of fine and fanciful person he enjoyed. He smiles to himself, thinking of the hunger that roared within him. A curse, a curse. Dragon is never truly full, and only one thing would even hint at curing it. Des thinks of sinking teeth, just as he does.
He melts away into the shadows.
Some moments later, as Des makes her way home, a figure comes the other way. He is dressed in an expensive suit, not looking up as he walks towards her. Only then does he spot her, eyes rising from a phone in his hand. Dragon frowns as he slows down.
"Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?"
Dragon's face is sincere concern. Des looks like she is half-cut and struggling to get home. Dragon does even think so, not knowing she is more than meets the eye. He instead looks on, giving her a worried look beneath his dark brows.
"You look like you could do with a hand getting somewhere. Is your home nearby? Is there perhaps someone I can call, a boyfriend or husband?"
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Post by Countess on Oct 8, 2024 0:27:41 GMT
Desiree doesn't notice him until she almost walks into him. She abruptly stops, swaying for a fraction of a second, blinking at him. Carefully, she makes sure she does not touch him, no.
Asking about a significant other? Interesting. People tend to ask for that for a certain reason, reasons that have her wrinkling her nose at him. "I'm alright, thank you, not my first stumble home," she says, taking a firm step backwards. She's suddenly glad she isn't wearing heels. Easier to run. Why is she being so paranoid? Just turn on the charm, Des. It will tire her out, but it is better than the alternative.
Power starts to pour from her, slowly at first. It takes concentration, effort, things she has in short supply. What exactly are this guy's intentions? She sends out her awareness, gentle, weaving along with it that lovely feeling of being in her presence. Inspiration, however that may feel for him.
"I can handle myself."
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Post by Beriadan on Oct 9, 2024 20:29:58 GMT
Dragon felt the wave of good feelings. Interesting. Outwardly he simply raises his hands, taking a step back. From him... it would be foreign emotions, but there was genuine sympathy and good intentions there. They were just... blurred. Muddled.
"Okay, my apologies... just be safe, call a cab, anythings better than walking alone..."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued on into the darkness, allowing Des to carry on. Yet as she walked, the darkness began to deepen, and swirl like mist, and swallow her surroundings. Buildings slowly vanished around her, overwhelmed by the shadows. There was a deep, masculine scream. The man from before, by the sounds of it, and it was a scream of pain, confusion and fear.
Shadows began to deepen in the dark mist. Des would be alone in an island of night. Nothing above or around her, just disembodied concrete beneath her feet. Something was rustling in the gloom. Padding footsteps, not human.
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Post by Countess on Oct 9, 2024 21:04:44 GMT
At least the guy could take a no. He really didn't seem to be a bad guy, but damn after asking about men in her life, like she needed a keeper, ugh, so outdated. No thanks. Des brushes her hair to the side, pausing in her walk to wait for him to move on. She masks this by messing with her phone for a moment, glancing over her shoulder until he faded into the darkness. With a sigh of relief, continues on her little walk to her home.
Step by step, the world gets a little darker. At first, she doesn't notice, like water slowly coming to a boil. Such things you don't notice until it is too late. Des hesitates, looking around as it swirls around her. Her powers had been pulled back in, but now she is sending it all out in large waves. "Don't hurt me," they say. "Love me," they continue. It is her only defense in moments like these. "Nigel, this isn't funny," she says, voice wavering. She doesn't even know if this is him, just a stab in the dark-
The scream has her reeling. Without seeing, she starts to move, her hands in front of her. She has made this walk on less, she can get home, she knows the feel of the sidewalk, even in this darkness. She still stumbles, frequently, half running from this thing chasing her.
"Putain," Des curses, feeling herself start to tire already. She had given too much to Nigel!
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Post by Beriadan on Oct 9, 2024 21:12:20 GMT
Bare feet on concrete turned to grass and mud beneath them. The smell of the city disappeared, replaced with something older, mustier. The darkness swirled as she moved past, retreating to reveal where she was. A forest. Old, gnarled trees rose above Desiree, ancient branches that reached out to scratch and grasp her. The sky above was black, starless.
We do love you, came the whispers from every angle. We do love you. Come and join us, Desiree... Overlapping, interluded with giggling like small children. A wind rushed though the woods, catching at her clothes, cold and bitter.
There was a cracking of dry twigs beneath the weight of something large. Slow movements, a steady, heavy breathing. Something was hunting in this forest tonight.
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Post by Countess on Oct 9, 2024 21:36:01 GMT
Grass. No- no that is not how this works. She retraces her steps, feet continuing to squelch as she lifts her feet from the cold, wet earth. There is no concrete, nothing familiar, and her heart sinks in that way that pushes adrenaline through her. The last time this had happened to her, she found a place to hide. Yes- hide. That is how she gets out of this.
Still, her power pours out of her like a tap without a stopper. She can't control it when she is afraid like this, a terrible hope and need to survive if only whoever it is trying to hunt her could just... like her enough... to stop.
A forest. Fuck- this isn't the city. Not in the least. Her heart pounds in her chest, terror on her tongue and on her mind. It makes her eyes wide, her breaths wild, movements less than coordinated. The world around her reels as she starts to run, now able to see at least a little more than before. When her control is gone, she is reduced to the same sniveling mess as every other mortal confronted with death.
Desiree is a coward. One pep talk from a guy in a dive bar won't change that.
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Post by Beriadan on Oct 9, 2024 21:43:55 GMT
There was a splash of water. Cool and crisp beneath her feet as she suddenly ran into a spring, a pool, fed by a roaring waterfall from above. Fireflies danced around her, and the trees seemed to withdraw. Suddenly it wasn't scary. It was... tranquil. Peaceful.
"What... are you?"
A man sat on a rock in the centre of the pool. He watched her with intent, dressed in an old fashioned tunic, hair tied up in a bun. Grinning, but with an expression of confusion.
"You're special, aren't you, Desiree? Nobody has been able to... twist my mind like this."
He shifted on the stone, looking around them. The sky had cleared, brilliant stars now glistening on the skies above, reflected in the water around her ankles. The faint smell of rain came with a cool wind, and the calming sounds of night animals filled the air.
"So, I ask again. What are you, exactly?"
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Post by Countess on Oct 9, 2024 22:01:33 GMT
It is like whiplash, the sudden change. Desiree stops, immediately backpedaling out of the water. It means noise, it means she can be tracked, it means she will be found-
This place is peaceful, and she doesn't trust it. How many times has she seen smiles, felt rage instead? Seen tears, and felt manipulation? No, she never trusts what she sees, and she will continue that here and now.
Words reach out to her, grabbing her by the back of her neck, and she takes an unwanted step forward. Her head is twisted to the source, someone familiar and unfamiliar all at once.
"A Muse," Des answers. Survive, bitch, come on. Be useful. "I inspire," she adds, trying to show that she isn't worth hurting, but perhaps just letting... go... She gulps, heart still pounding in her ears. What now? The world can be as a calming as it wants to be, she knows this is still a situation in which she needs to fight to survive. She feels like a butterfly, hands slowly closing around her.
"I bestow wisdom, power, greatness," Des says, standing taller. "I am a gift. For you, for others, placed so the world may continue forth with invention, music, art, and study."
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Post by Beriadan on Oct 10, 2024 11:48:16 GMT
"In eight hundred years, no human has been able to sway my mind an inch. Yet here you are, somehow making me turn the Darkwood into something..."
The man motioned around him at the glittering pool, the stars above them, the fireflies dancing across the shore.
"... nice. That's a terrifying power, Muse, and that's a compliment from a true monster."
He leapt down from the rock, landing on top of the water rather than falling through. He gazed at Desiree with a mixture of interest and contempt. Someone who wasn't used to being stood up to.
"I don't even feel like eating you. Now that's power. Let me introduce myself properly, I am Dragon. It's a curious thing, to talk to a mortal in this manner. To feel like I want to have a conversation with you, not feed from you. Curious indeed."
He strode to the shore, where his tunic swirled and changed into the suit she had seen before. Dragon returned to his modern form, and turned slightly to motion at her with a single finger.
"Come. Walk with me into the Darkwood. I won't hurt you. I don't think I can. Not right now, anyway. What's your name, Muse?"
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Post by Countess on Oct 11, 2024 0:48:26 GMT
".... you are not the first to say that to me," Des murmurs. She takes instinctual steps backwards as he moves towards her. Her eyes follow him like a rabbit follows a fox. What is with these people thinking she is dangerous? What she had told Nigel was true- she is only as dangerous as her company, and right now, well... He dictates what that means. Not her. She can feel her strength waning, slowly but surely. Des cannot keep this up forever.
"Dragon," Des says. "An honor," she says, voice wavering. "Feed?" she asks, already an inkling of an idea forming for her. A monster, feeding, the man screaming, this wood, it feels like something out of a fairy tale. Not... not reality. But... here he is, as he was, the man from before. She had been right to rebuke him- or wrong? Des doesn't rightfully know. She doesn't think there are many right answers with this man.
His words are nearly prophetic. Not right now... She gulps, audibly. She is terrified of him. There are no amount of reassurances that could be given to take that away. Not completely of her own accord, her feet move, and she is walking towards him.
"Desiree," Des says, not seeing any point to hide this from him. She feels like a specimen underneath his inquisitive gaze. "Darkwood? Tell me more," she says, then hastily adds, "Please." She does not want to anger him, and she doesn't know what will and won't. Manners... go a long way. "I feel it is right, if we are sharing names and what we are, would you, too, share what you are?" she asks. Maybe there is something that can save her in that knowledge.
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Post by Beriadan on Oct 12, 2024 16:10:25 GMT
Dragon pauses, looking at her with a shrewd glint in his eyes. He grinned, and two sharp canines reflected silver moonlight overhead through the trees.
"I am... a lover of fine and exquisite things. This place, the Darkwood, is where I bring some of those things. Though, it has never been so... accommodating."
Dragon ignored the pointed question in regard to his terminology of feed. He danced around the main subject like a ballerina around their partner, walking on into the wood. The grass was lush and soft underfoot. Dragon paused to run a hand through it, crouched down with a frown on his face.
"What am I supposed to do with a gift like you? I didn't ask for it, yet I now can't shake it from my mind that I want it. Isn't that strange, Desiree? Is this the curse of your power? Because if this continues, my heart is telling me not to let you leave."
Dragon rose to his feet, back to Desiree. He tapped a finger to his chin, frowning still, a curious expression on his face. Then he turned swiftly, staring at Desiree with his head cocked to one side.
"It's only fair. I am a Vampire. A creature of the night who feeds on the blood of mortals, the terror of the skies, blah de blah. I've not yet encountered a being who could stop me, yet here you stand. You can see the predicament I'm in, hmm?"
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Post by Countess on Oct 13, 2024 0:03:38 GMT
Des fights a shiver that wracks through her body when she sees those fangs. It is like a cold finger trailed down her spine. How is she going to get out of this, preferably alive and unharmed? "So you find me fine and exquisite?" she says, trying to turn up the charm despite the dread pooling in the lizard part of the brain. Her limbs twitch to run, but she cannot. Surely, he would catch her... and she doesn't know how to get out of this place at all.
For all he is, and much of it is alien to her, he is still a man, it seems. A cunning, terrifying one, but a man all the same. Perhaps she can use that.
"Most enjoy me," Des says, ignoring the bile rising up in her throat. What would that mean for him? She watches him rise back up to his full height. Like most, he towers over her. She is a petite woman in many regards, but not in personality. Not usually, at least.
Des' heart sinks into her stomach. A vampire? All the signs had pointed to it, of course, but for it to actually be the truth? She can't detect in him the usual signs of lying, but he could simply be too Other for her to get those readings from him, not in a way she would another. Fuck, fucking fuck. Curse indeed.
"Well... I have found many enjoy my company. I am rather refined in my tastes, as well as a fantastic conversationalist," Des says, trying to put on her usual coat of conceit. It is... difficult, but a pattern she can follow. Something normal to ground her. "But... If you keep me, my talents I fear would be wasted. I am not meant to be held by one single person, but many. As lovely as I am, I fear you would grow bored of me and my occasionally superficial ways. There is such a concept as too much of a good thing. I would hate to have you spoil on me, when we could have these little talks and wanderings through your Darkwood as treats instead of the norm," Des reasons, heart beating faster than a rabbit cowering in its burrow.
"Think about it. You, and me, our own little secrets together. Something to look forward to when the nights grow long. Eight hundred years, have you ever had a companion like that? Like what I could be?"
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Post by Beriadan on Oct 13, 2024 16:54:10 GMT
Dragon grins at her modesty. They walk into a clearing, and it is a out of place to say the least. Antique furniture is placed amongst soft grey grass, illuninated by moonbeams and fireflies. Bookcases line the outside, resting against trees, and a fancy table sits between two plush red sofas. Dragon waves to one for Desiree to sit as he makes his way to a globe, which turns out to be a drinks cabinet. He pulls out a bottle, something dark and crimson. "I find many things fine amd exquisit. I store them here, in the place I call the Darkwood. It's... well, like a mind palace, I suppose. Memories, from my many years. Drink? And before you ask, no, it isn't blood. I save the best for myself. This is a vintage wine. 16th century, though I acquired it essentially only yesterday."Dragon popped the cork to let it breathe, and leapt backwards onto the sofa, legs swinging up on the table, arm dangling lazily over the side.
"You say you would wither and fade, like an orchid shaded too long from the sun. A thing that requires sustenance that my realm simply could not give... but, Desiree, I can hear your heart. Like a rabbit beneath a fox's paw. You are afraid of me, and with good reason. Please don't tell me you would want me to appear at your window for a quick chat every now and then? No, I'm afraid I simply don't believe you."
Dragon grinned, eyes glinting in the dark. A glass waited by the bottle. It was up to Desiree if she wanted it. "What is it that you really want? You bestow gifts to others, but... what is it that the Muse wants from others? I'm simply dying to know."
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Post by Countess on Oct 13, 2024 18:06:41 GMT
This Darkwood seems to be whatever Dragon wants it to be. Mind palace- she's heard of those before, though certainly never manifested in this way. Curiosity overtakes her. "Am I in your mind, or physically here?" she asks. He said this place is where he stores memories... yet here she is. This better not be some Black Mirror shit. "Is this an illusion? Or- is my body still on the streets of New York?" she continues, trying to wrap her mind around this... as well as reason a means of escape. The more she knows, the better.
"Yes, please," Des replies to his offer of drink. She doesn't know if she can say no to him, not really.
Des moves to the globe, pouring herself a glass. She lifts it to her lips, miming drinking, only letting it wet her tongue. From there she walks on somewhat unsteady legs to sit across from him. She isn't as far away as possible- she holds no illusions. He could kill her in an instant, and no amount of distance on a couch is going to mitigate that.
"I would rather not die here tonight, Dragon," Des says honestly. She is afraid, and there isn't much she can do about that right now. "If we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement, why not try it? If what is on the table is me staying here, withering as you aptly put it, or death that I do not want and you are against for the time being... Why not explore other options we can both walk away from here happily?" Des says, getting a little confidence. He is listening to her. Or playing with her.
What a question. What a fucking question. How does she spin this? Should she spin this?
"I am afraid my wants are entirely pedestrian," Des says, sighing as she wets her lips with the wine. "I want someone to want me for me, and not my power," she answers after a moment. If she is going to die here... might as well let go of some things. "I want to feel safe," she adds, looking at him with her racing heart. "I haven't felt safe since I was a child," she murmurs. "There is always something lurking in the dark, isn't there?" she says to him, the irony not lost on her.
"What about you? What does an eight hundred year old vampire yearn for?"
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