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London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by TheBigun » Thu Oct 04, 2018 3:05 pm

"Screw this. Fuck 'em up!"

"Music to my ears."

Several patrons stepped away from the conflict, but those that didn't began to circle the two agents, before charging in from several directions simultaneously. Grey stepped forward to meet one of those leading the charge, sending a fist straight into his torso and throwing him backwards in several of those behind them. Two more flanked him on either side, latching onto his arms as another came at him head on. He responded to the charge with a sharp forward kick, knocking the individual back several feet, and immediately broke his right arm free, using it to grapple the individual who had previously held it. Still holding one attacker by the neck, he broke his left arm free and used it to fling the one who had grappled it across the room towards the bar, doing the same with the other he held in his right.

The fight itself was enough to clear Grey's head. His movements became fluid, his mind lifted from the haze of anger that had previously held it, and despite the unabated furious combat his was in, he felt a slight essence of peace once more. Still, with that moment of peace, came clarity, as he spied the ringleader, the one they were clearly here to question, attempting to slip out the back of the bar in all the confusion. Shifting his position, Grey stepped between Eris and another attacker, body checking him into the bar, gave a slight head tilt to Eris indicating the fleeing individual, before stepping back into a centralized position between the remaining attackers.
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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by Shea » Thu Oct 04, 2018 5:25 pm

Eris nodded to Grey and darted off, sidestepping wayward fists and even a body flung through the air. She vaulted over the remains of a shattered table with the next fluid motion, her physical form blurring around the edges as time seemed to slow around her. The man was still a few feet ahead of her, enough of a space to slide through the opening of the hallway door and slam it shut in her face.

She drove through the barrier with her shoulder and smashed through to the other side, almost colliding with the hallway wall, though she kept the momentum and slammed her foot into it instead, using it to launch her closer towards her target and back onto solid ground. They dashed past various doors and the open entryway to the kitchen, but he almost lost himself as he collided with the body of a waitress as she exited, throwing her and the plates and glasses she held shattering to the ground. She screamed, only to see the vampire dive straight over her head roll back onto her feet. Eris stepped once, twice as the man shoudlered a corner, and then flung herself into his back.

There was a brief cry as he lost his footing on the back steps, and she drove her elbow into his spine as her body met his and forced him down with all her weight. They hit the wet ground hard, causing a cascade of mud and trash, his wide form taking the brunt of the impact, his face smooshed completely into the mass of it. Eris eased off his back slowly once he settled, her feet sinking heel first into the muck, and brushed herself off. He let out a groan of pain and disgust, the slop on his face slawing from his nose and chin as he sat up on all fours, and staggered to stand on his feet.

"Now-," she seethed, "-that was the wrong choice."

It took a moment for him to regain his breath, and he pawed over his face to remove the heavy mud from his eyes and nostrils. There was trepidation in his eyes, a fear, but he did not move to attack her or flee. He already knew she was faster, and this environment would only serve to hinder him if he tried. He breathed through his nose in deep drags to steady his nerves, half slumping against a wall of discarded wooden crates and barrels piled by the right of the door.

"I know why you're here, but. . . I tell you anything, they'll kill me."

"They'll likely kill you anyway."

Rain had begun cascading slowly, and the man raised his head to the sky like it was the final time he would see it. Then he breathed in the wet and stale earth, and sighed.

"I didn't know Greem well. But he came 'round 'ere often, usually to bet and play cards. I worked as enforcement for the owner, Stephan, so I was always tryin' t' keep an eye on the going ons inside."

He took a clump of muck from his chest and flung it back at the ground. "So, one day Greem met this lady, real pretty, and fancy like. Not from around 'ere. Real clean, wore nice dresses, had her hair done real curly. Lady o' the night."

"A vampire?"

"Yeah, s'it. Anyway, there was somethin' about her that was real upsettin'. Like she I thought he was just cute on 'er, but she could get ye' in if you stared at 'er too long. Like them faeries that memser- Memmer-"

"Mesmerise."

"Yeah, that. But not like you lot do usually, it was more powerful than that, like she was controlling you, and she barely had to try. Freaked me out so I avoided 'er. Anyway, one night I was walkin' home and caught 'em in the alley by Hodges Pub standin' over someone. Pretty sure they was dead, but it looked like they were doin' something to it, with magic like, dark stuff, and she was sayin' these weird words and he was cuttin' into it. I musta hit something cause she looked straight at me, so I left right then. Next thing I know Greem's gone missin and I never saw her again. Didn't know what to make of it. I been waitin' for her to come get me ever since."



Eris was quiet, settled into a contemplative slump against the wall. She fingered the top button of her blouse.

"When was this?"

The man thumbed his chin.

"Ahhh.. Free weeks, maybe? When Greem stopped comin' 'round, anyways, and we knew somethin' was wrong cause he was 'ere every night."

He rubbed his hands together for some fraction of warmth in the freezing rain, though Eris could only feel the frequent tip-tapping of droplets against the top of her head and the surface of her skin. She took an uneasy step forward in the weird sludge and held her hand out to the man.

"What's your name?"

"Nico, ma'am."

"Okay, Nico," she grasped his hand firmly for a brief instance and he returned the pressure, before going back to warming his arms. "I need you to-"

She only felt it a moment before it happened, that tinge of numbness down her spine that warned of threat, and through the haze of the increasingly heavy rain she failed to see it arc through the air. The jagged head of the arrow exploded through the back of Nico's neck and out of his throat, sending a slurry of thick red across the front of her. Words were left caught on her tongue as she backtracked franctically to collide back into the wall, her eyes cast from rooftop to rooftop, alleyway, rooftop, back door, then to the alleyway leading to the main road. Her mind threw itself into a panicked cycle of searching for a threat which was no longer present, which she couldn't feel even if it was and how was that possible? How had I missed this? Where was it? Where was it? and suddenly she couldn't breathe or move. But it wasn't the shock.

Something held her in place. The threads of her muscles tightened as a wave of paralysis magic crawled over her, and her head tilted back to inhale desperately as the tremors encircled her bare throat. She wheezed, straining to capture the air that escaped her, that her lungs craved as they seized momentarily in her chest. Her arms jammed out from her sides as she tried to move her blade, but it fell from her grasp to lay by the wolf's gushing corpse.

"I couldn't have you moving about freely. We both know you'd only try to make a mess of things."

The voice alone made her ill with nausea, but her rage grew with it. She could not see him, only feel him move behind her as a cold hand caressed the back of her neck and she flinched, or would have. It glided down her left shoulder blade to sit at a faded mark there, painted above the lick of an old, deep scar. Her eyes watered at the burn in her throat and lungs, but his touch there sent an agony that caused all others to abate.

Her voice faltered to scream even as clawed fingers tore the skin of her upper arm and two long fangs punctured the familiar flesh of her neck.

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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by TheBigun » Sat Oct 06, 2018 7:35 pm

Eris darted off to complete her task and, while some individuals first thought to follow her as she left, Grey made sure he was far too big a target to turn their back on. After having flung another combatant across the room, the group realized that blindly charging in one by one would quickly spell their doom and began to form a semi-circle around Grey, backing him towards the door. Their was a slight lull in the combat as either side readied itself before Grey stood up straight and stared dead at the crowd forming around him.

"If we're going to do this," he began, removing his jacket and turning to hang it on the rungs behind him, "we're going to do it right." Grey stretched his arms back, sending a litany of cracks down his arms and back, before he readied himself into his fighting position once more and gave a slight nod to the crowd before him, to which they obliged and began their assault once more.

Several minutes later...

The once uproarious and lively bar now laid broken and in shambles. Patrons were strung at the waist over rafters, tables, and stools. Several found themselves staked to walls by their arms or ligaments, others simply lay curled into a ball in the floor, either unconscious or writhing in pain. Those patrons who had not participated in the brawl, however few there were, had found themselves at the lone corner table which had miraculously (or otherwise by Grey's own efforts to that end) been untouched in the ordeal. Grey himself was a little bloodied, though likely the majority of it was not his own, and his clothes were scuffed but otherwise un-tattered. Reaching up he wiped a small trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and scoffed.

"Getting slow, old man." he muttered to himself as he turned and walked towards the rack which still held his pristine coat. Taking it off and draping it over his shoulders he walked towards the back of the bar, stopping off to one where the lone table still stood. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled a small pouch out onto the table, leaving several coins on the table.

"For the trouble." he nodded, and turned towards the back door where Eris had disappeared to earlier. He continued down the hall, seeing several other scattered patrons, before reaching the kitchen where most of the staff had stopped the duties at the start of all the commotion in the other room. They turned to watch Grey as he walked by, but neither side offered any words as he continued on towards the back door.

He smelt the blood before he heard the scream; one of the oddities of the werewolf breed, catching a smell on the wind that had hardly had enough time to really move beyond it's source. Their was an infinitesimal moment of confusion as he expected the smell to be that of the wolf who Eris had ran off to find, and, in fact, it was the smell of his blood, based on Grey's minor experience with the man, but it wasn't only his. Grey's hair stood on end as he stepped out of the doorway to see Eris locked in an upright, rigid posture as a dark shadow clung to her backside, enveloping the nape of her neck. Though the figure was darkened both by night and some other form of unnatural darkness, its eyes still showed quite clearly through the haze. Grey knew those eyes, he hated those eyes and everything bad thing they brought along with them everywhere they appeared in his life.

As the figure looked up at Grey, both creatures stared directly into the soul of the other and there was a moment where everything appeared to stop altogether. The rain hung in the air around them as Grey's mind flashed back to the last time he'd seen those eyes, the last time they stared back at him as another one of his partners lay dying in its grasp.

Not this time. Not this time. Not this...

The wooden steps shattered beneath Grey's feet as he pushed off them, lunging toward Eris and the shadow. His leap managed to just clear Eris' rigid body, but the shadow was quick, quicker than he could have realized, as it zipped several yards back and balanced itself on the bridge of a wooden fence. Grey turned on his heels and caught Eris before she could slam into the slough of the ground, letting her down gently, as his gaze returned to the shadow.

"This isn't over." Grey growled through his teeth. In an instant, the shadow faded and was gone, but its aura still hung on the air around them. As it slowly faded, one last voice echoed through the rain falling down around them.

"Dear boy," it chuckled lightly, "we've only just begun."
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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by Shea » Mon Oct 08, 2018 6:40 pm

Eris laid on her back for a long moment, watching the rain cast thin white streaks against the darkened backdrop of the clouded sky. Water had begun to pool in the curves of her clothes and body and the sockets of her closed eyes, smudged lines of old makeup drooling down the sides of her face. She was soaked through, the back of her body caked entirely in mud, her head cushioned atop some of the old papers and a mound of bloodied ground. The tautness of her body eventually withered and relaxed, the threaded wires of magical energy gradually unbinding and uncoiling themselves from the deep tissue of her muscles. They faded into the mud and slop with the rain, and her lungs heaved a shaky, starving inhale of breath.

She eased herself to sit as a whir of nausea passed behind her eyes, and she lulled her head and shut her eyes in order to let it pass, a hand moving groggily to clucth at the puncture wounds at her neck pumping blood over her shoulder. Her eyes were too heavy to reopen and so she simply let them stay, her back propped against the wall. Despite the wet, her voice crackled.

"He was one of Visgoth's chosen.. disappeared before The Forest," she took another breath. "Wasn't Malik's coven.. I don't know where. I thought he was dead.. We all thought he was dead."

The old mark on her neck burned against each drop of rain, and it now seemed to soak in any blood that poured over it. It wasn't printed with ink but carved out of flesh, a steady hand on whichever blade had marked her insured it had healed in a precise pattern; the long curves and swirls of the Caligari coven's sigil. Her skin was paler than usual, the mark a stark crimson against the almost white of her current complexion.

"They used to.." she squeezed her hand over the bite, but the thought trailed off. "It doesn't matter."

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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by TheBigun » Tue Oct 09, 2018 5:38 am

Grey stood alert for several moments after the dark shadow had disappeared. The smell, the aura of dread, any and all essence of its existence in the area was gone, but he still waited, paranoia eating at the back of his mind. Eris' words broke his concentration, a final moment of acceptance that they were safe, at least for now. He looked down at her, back pushed against the wall, rain falling down around them. She was different in that moment, different than the hardened vampire he'd worked with up until this point. She was vulnerable. And apparently they both were, as he looked down at his own hand, which still shook despite the danger having past. He thought about her words and shook his head slightly.

Stepping towards Eris, Grey leaned down and slid an arm behind her back and another beneath her, lifting her up off the ground. He carried her back towards the building they had both come from, stopping short of the door beneath the awning where the ground was still dry and the rain could not reach them. He set her back down against the wall and slung the coat of his shoulders, flaring it out and laying it over her. He put his own back against the wall and slid down beside her, gravel crunching beneath his feet as they slid along.

"He wasn't one of Visgoth's chosen, at least not back then. He was a Darkling, an uninitiated servant in Visgoth's lab." Grey sighed as he thought of the memory he was about to vocalize.

"Argast, bring me the next subject, this one has expired far sooner than expected." Visgoth scoffed.

"Yes, master." Argast cawed, stepping around the corner for a moment before returning with a barely conscious Greymane strapped to a stretcher.

"Ohhh," he smiled, "a wolf this time. I've been wondering when I'd get a chance to use this." Visgoth wheeled a strange device towards the stretcher. Several chambers within the device, visible from the outside, were filled with a chunky liquid that sloshed against the circular glass around them. Visgoth lit a fire in a small opening near the base of the device and the liquid began to boil and bubble as parts of it rose through tubing up to a hanging arch where it ended in a small needle. Visgoth grabbed the needle, stretching the tubing along with it towards Greymane, conscious enough to widen his eyes in horror but paralyzed and unable to fight.

"Let's see how long this one lasts."


"Most of the prisoners, I'm sure you included, saw the torture chambers ran by the chosen. They exacted horrible acts on most, if not all, of the prisoners at some point, but the goal, as I understood it, was to find hardy individuals capable of being experimented on by Visgoth himself. I only knew one other prisoner who survived his trials, but he died during the break out." Grey tongued the inside of his cheeks, trying to process things he hadn't vocalized in years.

"When we finally broke out of the prison, while the rest of the prisoners were being evacuated, another agent and I pushed on towards Visgoth's lab, but he was dead when we got there. We had always assumed someone within his own ranks had killed him, but I hadn't ever considered it had been Argast. Seeing him as a fully fledged vampire, here. He's the only one who could've done it, he's the only one who would've done it, in order to finally became what he had so wished working under Visgoth."

Grey was a silent for a moment, listening to and watching the rain drop only a few feet in front of them as they sat.

"I've told you mine." he smiled at Eris, halfheartedly, "So, who is Malik?"
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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by Shea » Tue Oct 09, 2018 3:20 pm

Eris listened contemplatively to Grey, open eyes now cast along the gravel and occassionally, over the body of Nico. Absently she wondered how many other wolves Visgoth and his ilk had ever experimented on and how successful they had been, and how many other species of dark creature they had attempted to subdue and pick apart. Every kind had a weakness, even those who seemed the most powerful, like magic wielders; warlocks, witches, fey. But if they were intelligent and cunning enough, they could find anything, turn those beings into anything. And a creeping premonition came over her with that thought, that there was likely a lot more behind that particular curtain they had yet to find. Greem was only one example. And it was only in the following moments that she would learn Grey was also.

The world turned slowly behind the haze still in her head, and before Eris could conjure enough will to react Grey had scooped her effortlessly up into his arms. He set her down carefully by the back door, tucking his own coat over her drenched form. She was speechless, and simply watched him quietly as took his own place beside her to rest.

"He wasn't one of Visgoth's chosen, at least not back then. He was a Darkling, an uninitiated servant in Visgoth's lab," Grey sighed.

Roselyn must have sent reinforcements, as a handful of Organisation agents soon arrived from the side alley. Eris didn't have the energy to guide them to what they needed to do, and they seemed to have their own orders regardless, soon taking spec of the situation with or without her or Grey's help. Soon they were hauling Nico's body off on a cart, and collecting any obvious bits of evidence they could find in the muck. She realised she must have considered anyone in league with or directly under Visgoth as inherently above her, as despite the gravity of some of her duties she was still a human subject. Even as a darkling, and 'chosen' or not, Argast worked directly beside him. In her mind, that was close enough to chosen.

"Most of the prisoners, I'm sure you included, saw the torture chambers ran by the chosen. They exacted horrible acts on most, if not all, of the prisoners at some point, but the goal, as I understood it, was to find hardy individuals capable of being experimented on by Visgoth himself. I only knew one other prisoner who survived his trials, but he died during the break out."

Eris glanced away from Grey's face. There was a degree of guilt that accompanied hearing many of the things he said. He was right, she did know those torture chambers, knew the horrors of what went on there before and after Visgoth's reign, was a victim of much of it herself. But she also knew there were many aspects of that life she had been complacent in or refused to acknowledge for her own sanity, and that meant failing to aid those who were imprisoned when she had her freedom. It was something she could never hope to make right.

"When we finally broke out of the prison, while the rest of the prisoners were being evacuated, another agent and I pushed on towards Visgoth's lab, but he was dead when we got there. We had always assumed someone within his own ranks had killed him, but I hadn't ever considered it had been Argast. Seeing him as a fully fledged vampire, here. He's the only one who could've done it, he's the only one who would've done it, in order to finally became what he had so wished working under Visgoth."

One of the agents, a dark skinned, elven looking man, approached the two, quickly looking over Greymane for anything more than bruises or cuts and finding nothing that seemed immediately life threatening. When he moved to Eris to study the wound on her neck she lightly batted his hand off. Unaffected, he simply took his leave with a smirk. Pulling away her own hand that was holding the fresh bite, it seemed the blood flow had ceased, the first cells already beginning to regenerate. Still listening all the while, she grimaced both at Grey's mention of Argast's role and the hardening blood on her neck.

"I've told you mine," Grey smiled at Eris, halfheartedly, "So, who is Malik?"

Eris often paused before speaking, a habit and a technique she used in order to properly formulate the words she wanted to say, to use them most effectively. But this time was different. The contemplation took a lot longer, and it soon became clear that it wasn't so much the words that were so hard to find, it was verbalising them at all. She stared off into space, internalising, her mouth sometimes working the feel of a word before saying nothing at all. Names brought their owners faces to light, and his was the most difficult to see. Finally she pursed her lips shut and sighed. In the end, the easiest part was the start.

"I was sixteen when I found work for the Caligari coven," she looked quickly at his face for any hint of recgnition, but there was only interest. She continued. "I was.. human. And I stayed human for many years. There were a few of us. We worked as servants; we cleaned, kept their mansions in order. They used us for food. But we were only peasants, so we would never be 'gifted' with something as coveted as immortality. We were only useful so long as we were slaves."

She brushed a little of the dried blood from her lapel, picked off a loose thread. She looked back at the ground, threading her fingers together in her lap.

"Malik was the head of that coven. He worked with Visgoth to some capacity.. I only helped organise meetings between them and other leaders, other chosen. I was never entirely privy to what they said or did and I.. didn't want to be. I only heard whispers. When I was twenty-six, Malik somehow fell ill. I didn't realise it before then, but he had been conditioning us to be subserviant. Though, some embraced it. I thought it had been my choice until then. It wasn't. And so I managed to break free while he was weak."

The agents milling about the yard began to file off by now, one or two having darted through the back door to settle some matters with the owners inside. Probably through bribery, on top of the coin Grey had already placed, or maybe some assurance they and their building would be protected from similar events in the future. Whatever it would take to cause the least amount of fuss.

"I knew of The Organisation. I found one of their agents and told him who I was, where I had been, the things I had heard, and what I knew of Visgoth's doing. I moved away, made a small life. And then Malik found me."

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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by TheBigun » Tue Oct 09, 2018 3:45 pm

"I was sixteen when I found work for the Caligari coven," she looked quickly at his face for any hint of recgnition, but there was only interest. She continued. "I was.. human. And I stayed human for many years. There were a few of us. We worked as servants; we cleaned, kept their mansions in order. They used us for food. But we were only peasants, so we would never be 'gifted' with something as coveted as immortality. We were only useful so long as we were slaves. Malik was the head of that coven. He worked with Visgoth to some capacity.. I only helped organise meetings between them and other leaders, other chosen."

Grey had never heard of the Caligari coven specifically, but then Visgoth was heralded as reclusive even amongst vampire royalty, so those he dealt with would only naturally have operated as such.

"I was never entirely privy to what they said or did and I.. didn't want to be. I only heard whispers. When I was twenty-six, Malik somehow fell ill. I didn't realise it before then, but he had been conditioning us to be subserviant. Though, some embraced it. I thought it had been my choice until then. It wasn't. And so I managed to break free while he was weak."

The tale, though not unique to them by any means, sounded similar to his experience with his own family. Finally seeing the light behind everything that had happened in your life and having no other choice but to run and hope it never catches up with you.

"I knew of The Organisation. I found one of their agents and told him who I was, where I had been, the things I had heard, and what I knew of Visgoth's doing. I moved away, made a small life. And then Malik found me."

But it always does.

"I think..." he spoke slowly, "if we've proven nothing else today, it's that the past always catches up with you."

The goings on up until that point, the agents in and out, the cleaning in spite of rain and muck, everything.. had past by in what felt like seconds, but in truth they had both sat there for minutes, maybe longer, listening to their stories and the rain still falling only feet away, but neither of them were out of story to tell just yet, even if neither were entirely ready to tell it all just yet either. Nonetheless, Grey continued to listen.
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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by Shea » Tue Oct 09, 2018 4:17 pm

"I think..." he spoke slowly, "if we've proven nothing else today, it's that the past always catches up with you."

Eris watched him process what she had told him so far. She didn't nod, nor smile, but there was glint of agreement in her eyes to his remark. She didn't know what to expect when she started. Talking about an area of both their lives that had been so traumatic. She was familiar with adverse reactions and expected them from him, but.. Grey had shown only compassion, understanding, thoughtfulness. He didn't push or provoke, only let her continue at her own pace. He never rushed her and kept an open mind, even at moments she felt would ignite in him something like fury or frustration at her naivety, and whatever hand she had in things. He listened, and that was more than she could ask.

She seemed to pick at the back of neck for a moment, perhaps to remove more dried blood which pulled irritatingly at her skin. But there was a thin, faded gold chain that was hidden by her collar, and she hooked it around her finger and tugged it, producing a tarnished oval locket concealed within her bust at her front. Pulling the loop of chain over he head, she set the small thing in her hand, the chain pooling around it. There was a plain gold ring threaded through it, and it clinked against the locket when she moved her hand.

"I had a daughter," she said, and clicked the locket open to reveal a miniscule slip of paper with a startlingly vivid illustration of an infant girl's joyful, chubby face. She couldn't have been more than a few months old. The accompanying locket held a small spring of some sweet smelling herb, and a few locks of strawberry blonde hair cinched in place by a small loop of metal.

"The agent I mentioned, the one I came to about Visgoth and the Caligari.. We were married, a few months later," she went quiet. "Malik killed them both," she clipped the locket shut. Her eyes burned too much to see it.

"He turned me, threw me into the dungeon. They tortured me for years, and then you all came.. I always assumed you had Malik killed, just as I assumed you had killed Visgoth and Argast and many of his other followers.. What if he's alive as well?"

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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by TheBigun » Tue Oct 09, 2018 5:01 pm

She seemed to pick at the back of neck for a moment, perhaps to remove more dried blood which pulled irritatingly at her skin. But there was a thin, faded gold chain that was hidden by her collar, and she hooked it around her finger and tugged it, producing a tarnished oval locket concealed within her bust at her front. Pulling the loop of chain over he head, she set the small thing in her hand, the chain pooling around it. There was a plain gold ring threaded through it, and it clinked against the locket when she moved her hand.

"I had a daughter," she said, and clicked the locket open to reveal a miniscule slip of paper with a startlingly vivid illustration of an infant girl's joyful, chubby face. She couldn't have been more than a few months old. The accompanying locket held a small spring of some sweet smelling herb, and a few locks of strawberry blonde hair cinched in place by a small loop of metal.

"The agent I mentioned, the one I came to about Visgoth and the Caligari.. We were married, a few months later," she went quiet. "Malik killed them both," she clipped the locket shut. Her eyes burned too much to see it.

"He turned me, threw me into the dungeon. They tortured me for years, and then you all came.. I always assumed you had Malik killed, just as I assumed you had killed Visgoth and Argast and many of his other followers.. What if he's alive as well?"

The raw, unabated tale, without filigree or finery put Grey at ease, more so than he liked. He always preferred to keep a professional distance from his partners, even in those he felt close enough to miss once they were gone, but there was something about knowing someone from the darker parts of his life that made it seem all to easy to keep talking. Roselyn was the only person he'd known almost as long as he could remember, but she had so many other things on her plate, it was never something she and he could spend time on, even despite the relationship between them. In a weaker state, like he was in when he met Roselyn, he might have said more than he should have, but who could guess how'd she respond, and they had more important things to deal with.

A wife and son... no trinkets, everything burnt along with them the night they died... running from their deaths, finding Roselyn... things he wanted to say, things he should have said, but that conditioning in the back of his mind bade no more tonight, no more past pains, no more divulging secrets that always seemed to get the people around him killed.


Grey heard every word Eris said, but as he thought to respond, he realized he wasn't sure how long as he'd been sitting there thinking.

"Then we deal with him. Him... and Argast, and anyone else that comes crawling out of our past, because that's what partners do." he smirked again, the dreary mood memories of the past held him in finally beginning to clear little by little. "By the way, there's something I forgot to mention. We've been chasing leads up until this point, because Argast has done so well covering his tracks, but tonight he messed up." Grey thumbed his own nose lightly. "Tonight, I got his scent." Lightly nudging Eris with his elbow, he pushed himself off the floor and to his feet. Turning on his heels, he offered a hand to Eris and nodded. "Let's get this son of a bitch."
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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by Shea » Tue Oct 09, 2018 10:02 pm

Eris clasped her partner's hand and pulled herself to her feet. Slipping the locket back over her head and ensuring it was secured within her blouse, she brushed off some of the mud that had dried and straightened her posture; shoulders set back confidently, chin up, like the first time he had met her in Roselyn's office. When he looked at her, her exterior persona seemed to have softened somewhat, and the corner of her mouth creased a little harder.

Divulging her past wasn't meant to happen so soon, or at least she had gone into this position thinking as much. Sharing emotional moments didn't come naturally anymore, with anyone, but Grey had shared enough vulnerability with her that she felt.. safe, enough to lend him more insight into her connection with the beings they were chasing. She felt lighter now, like the weight and the panic of encountering Argast had been lifted from her for the time being, and as she dropped into step behind him there was an assurance in herself, in their partnership, that had not been there hours before.

Picking her sword from the mud, she pulled it to her waist to polish it with the cloth of her blouse, then held it loosely at her side. She nodded to him.

"You follow your nose, and I'll follow you."

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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by TheBigun » Thu Oct 11, 2018 8:20 am

"You follow your nose, and I'll follow you."

"Just try to keep up." he said with a small head tilt, before turning heeling and launching into a sprint.

To say Lycan tracked something's "scent" was a bit misleading. In truth, while their sense of smell was heightened compared to other supernaturals, a product of the creature their curse was based on, something scent in this case was more accurately consider's their aura. Many supernaturals, like vampires, had a some amount of sense when it came to the aura of other creatures, but wolves were more capable than most at sensing the trail left behind by that aura. Tracking of this magnitude, however, not only didn't come naturally to Lycan as a whole, but even those who had a predisposition for the skill required ample time and effort to hone the sense well enough to track long distances. In either case, Grey had made good work for the Organization as a tracker for centuries, and, despite the obvious effort to cover his trail, Argast's "scent" was all too familiar for Grey to lose track of as they pushed on through the city.

Grey had run for several hundred feet before spying a cross section of road up ahead, the trail leading through, or otherwise up and over, the buildings which blocked the path ahead. In a show of surprising agility for a man his build, he cut a hard right several yards short of the road and offending buildings ahead, using an adjacent alleyway to rebound between buildings until he reached their roofs. With a short preparatory moment, he knelt down with his knees and launched himself several hundred feet across the road onto the opposite buildings roof before continuing on rooftop to rooftop, still tracking the trail, all the while taking periodic stock of Eris quick at his heels.

Together, they crossed a large portion of the city before reaching another run-down portion of the sprawling city, similar to the kind of area in which many of the original victims had disappeared, filled with obviously abandoned buildings and only the odd group of individuals scattered into their own corners. Most of the present living where of the mundane variety, likely why they lacked the caution against being out at night when an individual hunting supernaturals was clearly being reported of late.

Grey leaped another cross section of buildings just short of an empty market square, scattered tents and refuse still littered the area, though it appeared empty otherwise. He surveyed the area for only a brief minute before spying what was clearly, and almost comically, the area where the trail he'd been hunting ended.

"Blackwell Asylum, previous home of the Criminally Deranged." he stated, taking a moment to brace himself against a mostly broken, nearby chimney.
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Re: London Gothic [BG & Shea] (IC)

Post by Shea » Wed Oct 17, 2018 8:44 pm

Eris landed softly by Grey's perch atop one of the deserted buildings and moved to crouch just ahead of him by the very edge of the roof. She had sheathed her sword sometime during their transit across town, her previously muddied and messied hair also pulled taut into a bun at the back of her head. Their was a trepidation to her movements at this position, her gaze lingering too long on one location before moving to another, and so forth. She was quiet for several moments, listening, waiting, sensing, before she seemed to unwind a fraction, and let her legs dangle partially off the building's ledge, her form lurching to peer down at the street directly below.

This area felt left behind by the rest of the country, the district marred by the broken bones of failed buildings projects and businesses which had delved into bankruptcy. And then the plague hit, and wiped out whomever remained. There was still life though it seemed, as a small hearth of fire nearby belonged to a congregation of homeless individuals who huddled together and around it, as quiet as night save the occassional cry of a starving child. If any of them were human it was a miracle they were still alive knowing the creatures that lurked in the shadows and the one, their quarry, which had made it's lair nearby. They were something of a testament to human resilliency, she supposed, but there was a fear there too, that they were a rapidly declining breed. Who knew how many would be remaining in a hundred years time?

Eris inclined her neck to the side, her back emitting a low and satisfying crack.

"I believe there was a great aunt in my family who was admitted here, once upon a time."

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