bleeders wake

[sam]

Date: March, 2010
Time Frame: Evening, close to night
Place: Troll market
Status: Open to all

The air curled sweet fragrances and harsh smells of the underworld, pulling at his heightened senses and almost making him want to throw up, almost. He walked silently through the crowds, beasts and creatures eyeing him with suspicion, his human skin making them nervous and threatened in a way that he would be too, if such a monster stalked his territory. He gave them flashing glares, metallic eyes warding away any attacks as soon as they realized what he was. Some could smell it on him as well, and gave him little attention as he walked stiffly, chin raised, almost goading on any ill-tempered trolls to show how they felt about him. But none did, and he was left with his thoughts as he drifted, looking over the market's goods as he shifted a large leather backpack on his shoulder. He paused when a scent caught his nose, coppery rich and full of memories that haunted him and made the hairs on his neck raise. It played on his tongue, making a growl throb in his throat as he was pulled to where the scent came from, eyes glowing with ravage hunger, as he stood in front of a small stand that housed fresh, raw meat in bundles, bleeding and oozing rubies. He knew immediately that this was human flesh, the scent brought forth the hunger that coiled at his center, made his teeth bare behind lips and bubbled his insides with with longing.

"Do you need something?" A low scratchy voice made Sam look up, an ugly face the color of rotten fruit greeted him with a scowl, twisted teeth sticking from the scarred lips. Sam glanced back down at the meat, knowing how wrong it was, knowing that these were probably murdered humans that had had families, homes, lives. But, outside, just under the horizon, a ripe full moon called to him. He knew that he would change, and kill. It would be better to feed now, and not murder some innocent in the night. He shifted the bag from his shoulder, dropping it on the ground next to his feet, reaching in and pulling out a heavy chunk of metal. Polished bronze and copper pipework, thrown away by humans, he had picked it up, knowing full well that a troll would see this as valuable, the metal glittering like gold. He set it down on the table, watching as the troll grabbed for it, and Sam snatched the metal away, smiling sharply. He reached into his bag, pulled out more of the glistening metal. "Fill this bag." Sam gruffly retorted, tossing the empty bag at the fiend and watching as the beady eyes scrutinized him with obvious anger, but glanced back at the pile of metal with greed.

He watched silently as the troll loaded his bag full, almost emptying his stand. The scent made Sam giddy, the beast clawing at his insides. He quickly piled the metal on the table and catching the heavy backpack, he turned and left the troll grinning over his profit. Canines showed their tips as his steps quickened, body tensed as he made his way past the hustle of the market. He stood a moment, looking about for a place of privacy, out of the eyes of passers by. He looked up and saw a deserted arch over the market, dark and brooding like rain clouds. He gripped the bag tight, and eyes flowing into yellow fire, he leaped, dug claws into the side of a stone building and jumped onto the arch with a groan of pain. He looked at his fingers and they glistened blood, sharp tips cutting them open and reminding him of what was to come in only a couple more hours. They retracted, pulling back under the human nails and resting, sleeping, waiting to tear and rip open screaming throats and racing hearts. He grimaced, setting his bag down and slowly flipping the lid open.

His hand hesitated over the dripping meat, the rolling stench that impassioned his heart, set his veins on fire. Then, his hand darted in and grabbed a huge chunk, teeth already tearing into it, tasting the coppery liquid as it trailed down his throat, and growled with pleasure as the flesh filled his stomach. Over and over, he ripped chunk after chunk, tasting, feeding, living with a lusting hunger that consumed him until his face was scarlet and the bag was empty. He stared, wide-eyed, and then gagged. He turned away and vomited, shaking, sweat clogging his hair as he bent over with the effort. Not all of the meat came up, he kept most of it down, for the sake of his change. But his insides burned, bile rose in the back of his throat and he heard nothing but the blood pumping in his head, driving it into an invisible wall as his vision flashed crimson for second. He bared his teeth, snarled, a beast's brutal voice taking his own as he felt his facial muscles twist into something inhuman. His skin bundled and threatened to tear, he dug his hand into the stone until his fingers bled and healed, his skin retracting and his heart calming again. Fits like this only came with the moon, something that no matter how much he grew, always happened violent bursts of pain and looming change.

He leaned back, breathing in raggedly, his flesh on fire with heat. Underneath his skin, it itched. Itched to be ripped off, itched to be free and wild and rampant. An untamed thing that would kill and kill and kill until dawn came and washed his mind free of all evil deeds. A storm was rising, and it would break, crashing and slashing lightning and thunder in its path, and Sam could only feel pent up joy at the thought, scary and delightful, all animal.

[Sister Angeleanna]

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that more slowly and possibly in English?” Splitting from her partner several hours ago had a good idea at the time. They were both readily capable women, strong in faith and physical prowess and as the minutes bled into hours, the good Sister had managed to accomplish a few of their tasks that day. Currently she stood in front of a vendor with a small creature no taller than her waist. She took a step back, sidestepping the length of tapestry that hung from the edge of his kiosk and along the stone floor of the odd structure that jutted form the wall. It wasn’t quite a second floor but rather a landing that was etched from rock and boulders, fitted with such perfection, a hair wouldn’t pass through the cracks.

The creature furrowed it’s brow in what she hoped was a frown before running a furry palm across his face. He lofted a hand, pointing a gnarled finger to the right repeatedly and gestured along with his foreign tongue. The digit spun, mimicking turning around and walking back down the stairway and far away from him as possible. He didn’t need a human, no matter what they smelled like, near his accoutrements. He took a purposeful step towards the nun and slapped a hand against her side, shoving her away from his stand.

Sister Angel jumped, skirting around the length of another roll of material and raised her hands. “All right, sir. I’m leaving. I’m sorry to bother you.” She allowed herself to be guided away from the booth and at the winding stairwell, she walked down them alone. A ungloved hand reached out for balance and the nun gathered a length of her habit unconsciously as her boots thumped quietly in the whispering noises of the market. She knew very little of the trollish language and with so many dialects, Angeleanna was having trouble finding her way back to the meeting spot Frankie had appointed. With a soft amused sigh, the bureau agent made her way through the ever moving sea of fantastical creatures, sidestepping to allow a individual pass by. The beast towered head and shoulders over the tall nun, a wooden box painted in brilliant hues of orange and yellow rested heavily on his shoulder as he swung through the market without a care and disappeared into an archway.

A crackle in her comm. link caused her to winch and she raised a hand to press the bud through the cowl that covered her ear. “Miss. Francesca?” Static was her reply. “Hello? Agent Agate? Yes, hello my dear.” Angel walked closer to the archway, using its bulk as shelter. “I’m quite well. Oh, you mean the assignment?” The sister laughed and the hand went to her cheek. “Also quite well. Agent Guidicini and I are to meet up soon and we should be back before – what? No, she’s not with me.” The nun dropped her hand and rested it against the edge of her belt, drifting fingers across the sword’s pommel when something red fell from the edge of the arch and past her line of vision. Angel glanced at it, listening to the voice in her ear and took a second look when she realized the small red blob looked organic. Blue eyes lofted up just a green skinned faerie darted over her head to converge on the meat, drawing her attention back down.

“Yes, I’m still here.” The corners of her mouth curled up at the voice. “I understand, if I require any assistance, I will call on the van outside. Thank you and might I add, you have a lovely speaking voice.” The nun grinned toothily. “All right. Take care my dear.” The green faerie rummaged along the blob before taking to the open air, whirling in a tight spin before vanishing over the top edge of the arch. It reappeared a moment later, chattering in a frightened voice as it took off. Cautiously, Angel took a step back in an attempt to see what had frightened the little fae and realized she’d have to crane her neck in a impossible angle and moved from the safety of the wall, back into the throng of bodies all the while backing further up. Individuals moved around her, brushing shoulders and nudging her out of the way with their own bulk and the nun caught a glimpse of movement.

[sam]

His ears had betrayed him, not paying mind to the fluttering creature that tampered by him and let out a frightened shriek before tumbling out over the edge, letting anyone who was looking, sense his presence. His eyes snapped gold flame as human stink swelled over his nose and rolled on his tongue, the metallic tang of blood, of the terrible thing he had done, swelling in his chest like a growth. He turned to the edge of the arch, nostrils flaring, breathing in the distinct smell of a human, female, and his eyes flicked like harsh stone as he recognized the smell of an agent. Being in the Bureau had mingled a memory of smell to his brain, and in those smells this person was. For whatever reason, he might have barely known her, or not even known her at all, but a humans smell did not rub quick from his mind. He knew that scent, that taste, of the Bureau. Of how the people there had felt like brushing in his scenes, and how they had had a similar smell. Like that of a selected herd of elk, they shared a common kinship, a tone to their airway calling cards. He would have liked if the smell had been washed away, lost to memory, but it hadn't. He pushed forward to the edge of the arch, hesitating before leaping to its edge. He stood with his back encased in shadow, his looming posture only contrasted by the smear of crimson that lit his face in blooming shades. He glared downward, the pale chips of animal flame meeting eyes of human kind, the swarm of monsters and beast that passed below not even giving a glance in his direction.

His eyes bore down, and he felt them pry at this human, growling in rage and anger at the purity that fell from her in waves, a sense that clawed at the wolf inside him and made it go mad. The curse was opposite of anything lawful and good in the world, its intent only to destroy and kill. Pain spread through him from his stomach, electric and fever-ish as it struck him like a punch to the face. He bent, clutching with talon tipped fingers at his middle as the roar of blood washed over his ears, the power to kill and slaughter almost too overwhelming. He coughed, and blood splashed the stone beneath his feet. A low growl thundered up his throat and escaped, he shook the sound from his body, trying to expel the change with it. It calmed, but still stirred like a sleeping fire in his stomach. He straightened slowly, uncertainly before looked back down into the throng of moving bodies, the contempt in his face saved for the one soul that stood, looking up at him.

His arm went over his mouth, whipping the sticky, still-warm blood away. It was purposely shown to the human, his eyes flashing like reflective lights down at her as he broadened himself and menacingly turned his neck and cracked it, the sound like a gunshot to his drumming ears. He took a step and jumped, landing in front of her on his feet without a sound, his jaw clenched in pain as his skin pricked with needles. "A woman of god eh? Are you here to forgive me of my sins ...or drive that sword of yours into my heart?" His voice was cold, and he snapped the words and spat the last like bile on the tongue. Like flint against steel, the rage of the demon quelled in him, pacing restless and eager, wanting only a reason to spill forth and tear down a person and spill innocence upon the hard ground. The rising moon drove his anger, heated his flesh, and crawled down his neck like fingernails. This person had no reason to be an annoyance to him, had no reason to have his anger. But it gave it out, and seeing her, standing, starring up at him, made the wolf want blood. The sword that hung at her side, his curse reeling back at the metal that it sensed was pushed into its edge, the metal that could put him down like a sick dog. The fact that she was good, pure, it all itched into his skin, and made his contempt burn like a stoked fire. He knew only that feeling, the rising tide as it closed in on him. Already he knew his eyes glittered like polished gold, and that they showed only the ill-intent of an animal out for blood. That the human that he was this morning was gone. That soon, he would run free and rampant, killing and hunting like his father had.

[Sister Angeleanna]

Perhaps it had been nothing, faeries were odd wonderful little creatures that would rather bite at her hands than allow her to offer them the few pieces of candy she had tucked inside a pouch on her belt. With a crick forming along her neck where her shoulder met, Sister Angel seized the chance to roll her head down and then back up to meet the smoldering gaze of wilderness incarnate. The unholy burning eyes, glaring back at her tugged at distant memories. Shards of ice spiked in her stomach, the prickling of childhood fears of monsters lurking in the dark. The cough, barely heard above the drifting roar of the milling crowd against her back. The fleck of red, made only brighter by the passing troll that carried a plethora of glowing lanterns, little creatures dancing inside to make the light. The shudder that went through the man’s body, she merely watched in consideration. A hand drifted up from her waist, climbing slowly to cradle the holy relic of her lord.

When he leapt, it was with such grace and ease, she didn’t doubt the absolute strength the man possessed. He landed with the same wild elegance that she had nothing but awe for. She met the feral with a careful tilt of her head and the stench of blood invaded her senses, leaving her with the aftertaste of metal and minerals. And when she should have run for the hills, it only drew her closer.

A woman of god eh? Are you here to forgive me of my sins ...or drive that sword of yours into my heart?"

The fingers that curled reverently around the golden cross at the edge of the brilliant white cowl of her habit, tightened once in quiet appreciation for the strength blessed to her. She clung to it to quell the spirit that trembled threateningly to wrap her arms around the creature in an embrace. Her mouth had momentarily gone dry and she ran her tongue across the inside of her teeth and swallowed. “Neither, my brother,” she replied kindly to the malice and bowed her head respectfully. Angel pursed her lips softly, one side drawing up. “Or does that make me the fool?”

With all the cautiousness of sticking a hand out to a wild creature, she gradually lowered her hand to her waist, making a show of moving to her hip and opposite of where the pommel of her sword jutted out from her coat. Her fingers grazed the edge of a pouch and she paused. “May I give you something?”

[sam]

Flesh and tendon underneath skin writhed, tensing up, thickening under his skin as frenzied gold eyes watched the woman's hand grip the swords handily tight. Blood boiled, racing with excitement and hunger, wanting her to fight him, wanting her to draw the sword and try to strike down this killing machine. Human mind silently bade her against such an action, for even if this woman had the courage to face him, it would be a foolish decision. Animal reflexes could cause a wound to her flesh even as silver bit down and killed him, and the curse would be passed like an incurable disease, and the cycle would go on with or without Sam. That was how it was spread, through the blood of a victim or the blood of a relative. Fists clenched at his sides, tightening so hard that it hurt, and his whole body was prepared to lead into suicide, change in a heartbeat, and die. Seconds and time slowed to a crawl, and every once of him waited like a predator in the brush, but when only kindness reflected in her eyes he didn't move straightaway. When humanoid words reached him, they were soothing to his maddened heart like cool water over an infected scratch, and he watched her carefully.

"Or does that make me the fool?" He snorted at such a remark, distrust clouding his eyes as he relaxed only a tad bit, enough to be noticeable, when he saw her hand move away from the sword and to her waist. Head tilted, and he watched her silently with still angry eyes, but they were human, no longer blazing gold. She was brave, he would give her that, and at least she had a bit of a mind not to attack him. The call of the change was still under his skin, and his wild mood swings would only increase until midnight, when the moon rode the sky. But, he calmed it for a second, wanting to see what this woman had to say to him, maybe something helpful as he plummeted into darkness and was torn from his human mind, replaced with one that relied on hunger and instinct to feed. It was the thought of it all that might be driving him mad, instead of the act itself. To know that you became something horrible was worse, you couldn't stop it, couldn't hold back no matter how hard you tried. Oh how he wished for the bliss of ignorance, to believe he was a normal human instead of a child of the night.

The question caught him off guard, and he was yanked from his morbid thoughts momentarily. Surprise pierced his gaze, and the change recoiled slightly as the woman's hand brushed a pouch at her waist. It wasn't uncommon that human emotion distracted his animal instincts, it was considered a weakness for his kind. If you were too focused on feeling and thought, you were slow, you tripped up, and you didn't react as well. Fever pulled back, and curiosity stuck fast in its place, for he couldn't help but wonder what she might have to offer him. Some sort of holy relic he guessed, as the kind holy people used to bring his mother in the deep woods, but he was only taking a shot in the dark there. For all he knew, this was a trap, and for all he knew, she was a good person with something that might help. His stance changed, less looming, as he stepped out of the way of a band of rather excited little imps, and his frame relaxed more until he would breathe without pounding blood clogging his ear drums.

His hand slowly moved, almost with a mind of its own, as he lifted it palm up and spread his fingers, awaiting whatever she had to give. His eyes were unreadable pools of hazel, darkness reining over them as the dancing shadows of the market place played over his features. Chin bobbed, nodding a silent, stone flavored yes at the woman. She might strike him as a human with some guts, but she had yet to earn his voice. His fingers twitched, and he longed to bite off his nails and have them grow long and claw-like, if only to satisfy the itch that would bear him no mercy until the change was passed. But, he kept still, muscles smooth but body planted firm. He wouldn't give that chance that his body longed for, for he himself to speed up the process and rip off his own skin in irritation. Instead he focused his sapped mind on the woman, rocking lightly on his limbs to distract himself, as scarlet and champagne light splayed over him from the vendors, the exotic hanging lamps, and the even more exotic creatures of the market.