Post by Rhiannon on Jun 11, 2007 21:46:09 GMT -5
The tall form of the vampire assassin emerged slowly from the shadows of the brush and grove – in no rush; his dark eyes occasionally glancing upward to the darkened sky; it's color not as dark as before... as the sun was beginning to rise -- before lowering his head again, and taking in the sight of the safehouse before him. It was not the vampire's first visit. Multiple times he'd been much later in his 'duties' than most other vampires dared to test. It was becoming a regular practice with him. As always, Gabriel enjoyed alone time when he could get it, since his days were filled with other vampires or killing those who deserved it; the sick, the injured, the unsatisfied, the tratiors, and the angry. So, often after these assassinations, Gabriel kept to the shadows... through the city himself, easing into his more primitive state of mind and allowing his body to naturally release the tensions of the day…. before becoming the assassin every seemed to know. Silent. Loner. Strange, even for a vampire.
His black eyes were calm and composed – as if he was in some kind of meditative state; wide as ever, a bit of a glint to them, perhaps. At first glance, one vampire might mistake Gabriel for an innocent spawn. One with little experience of the world or it's violent shortcomings. But he was far from it. Despite his appearance, Gabriel was an almost merciless killer. He was well aware most vampires didn't care for him... or were perhaps even a bit freaked out by him. He wasn't as prim and proper and beautiful as everyone else. He was pale; with various lingering scars upon his face.... his eyes large, dark and hinting emotion - his posture somewhat rigid and tense.
Gabriel was different.
Slipping into the safehouse, Gabriel silently and slowly moved about; almost as if hovering on each step. It was quiet... and dark; neither of which were new, of course, nor was it unusual. Stopping mid hall -- his head turned slowly, and his eyes rested upon a younger vampire; perhaps not young in age, but young looking. No more than 9. A small, soft smile graced Gabriel's lips for the barest of moments. The child, tensing slightly after a pause, scooted out of the room. Running to whom or what, the Prophet wasn't sure. But it was only a second after the boy was gone, the smile on his lips was replaced with the flatline; as always. Closed. Blank.
He thought about his place in the coven. He wasn’t a loner vampire or 'rogue', but at times, he could see how the others might judge him as just that. Gabriel generally stayed quiet – unless someone made a point to offend or hurt him, or others he cared for. Not that it mattered to him… what the others thought. He didn't have much to say. His life, like many others, hadn't been easy. He'd lost his mother, even after providing the immortal life for her. She hadn't been happy, and Gabriel had always blamed himself for her suicide to sunlight. And with the amount of violence he saw and committed each night.... he figured it wasn't proper to speak of it. To anyone.
So he lived the solitary life. No one much paid him heed anyway.... save perhaps the occasional few. Women, mostly. Females who had felt drawn perhaps to his ability to listen. Keep secrets. Or maybe they had just felt sorry for him.
Either way - Gabriel seemed to have a kindred bond with women. He felt comforted by their presence; forgiven, perhaps, even for the death of his mother. Whatever it was, most people didn't bother speaking to Garbiel. Or they just watched him with suspicious and disgusted eyes. A freak. Moreso than most. Drawing himself into one of the larger rooms... he found it empty. Dark. Many were perhaps already in their coffins or boarded rooms. Drifting over to a large window, the vampire stood before it -- eyes large and bowful; gazing out at the night.... now a bit lighter in blue tone than before. The sun had not risen yet. Gabriel would wait until retiring himself. He had enjoyed sunlight when he was alive.
It his immortal life.... the thought of it was pleasing. One of the happier memories of his evenings now.
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The silence of the safe house was quickly disrupted by the front doors bursting open as shouts and screams tore through the structure. The safe houses were not quite houses at all, being mostly basic accomidations for those caught out close to daylight and interogation chambers for the Death Dealers. It had been a long time since D. Street's safe house had seen a lycan passing through it's doors. Entering in a flurry of polished leather and noise, a pair of Death Dealers was dragging a badly wounded man between them. Someone passing by on the street might have thought it was some sort of Russian gang related crime as the three leather-clad figures shouted back and forth to one another in some thick foreign language.
In truth they were speaking Hungarian, their native tongue as they struggled to keep their captive at bay. The taller of the three, the female slammed the doors shut behind them as her counterparts dragged the lycan towards one of the rooms intended for interogation. Pausing for a moment, the woman leaned against the closed doors, arms behind her back. A look of exhaustion passed over her pale face as she closed her eyes and swallowed. When she opened her eyes again they had faded from the electric cyan to their natural green.
If anyone else was in the safe house she couldn't smell them over the reek of lycan blood. Her companions, Faustus and Wilhelm, had dragged their prisoner to the back of the building, a thin trail of red coloring the floor in their wake. If the blood were human it would have set her senses afire, tempting her to break the Covenant and feed from one. But she knew better than any the penalty for such a transgression and even in the aftermath of her mother's murder and the killings of both Viktor and Marcus she would not stoop to break tradition so soon. Following the trail of blood and screams she found the lower ranking Death Dealers in the process of cuffing their captive to a metal chair.
The man was begging them, pleading with them, his deep brown eyes looking frightened under the glaring institutional lights of the room. They darted about him from the cold tiles and the drain in the floor, to the silver instruments waiting on a nearby tray. Sweat poured from his forehead, the stink of the beast enough to choke the Death Dealers.
Rhiannon leaned against the doorjam, not bothering to shut the door yet. This one had been trying to get into Legends with a group of humans. Most likely young and completely new to the laws of the "jungle". Folding her arms across her chest she watched her bodyguards finish cuffing the lycan down. Faustus took a step back and looked at her expectantly.
The vampire's eyes went from her fellow warrior to the writhing, pleading man in the chair. A thousand horrific strategies played out in her mind, all the dark desires of her heart unleashed. She wanted to make them pay, make them suffer. Take their dignity and their lives... in that order. Wanted them to beg for forgiveness, to plead for their lives, promise her the moon and stars and kiss her feet. To see their eyes when that sick coldness hit their insides, knowing there would be no mercy, no comfort. That their deaths were the blood price for taking her mother, the Elders. To know it was only a matter of time before their kind would be completely wiped from the face of the earth in a wave of genocidal wrath.
Rhiannon's jade colored eyes flared cerulean as her cruel intentions blossomed behind those eyes. The lycan must have sensed that she was the one about to be his undoing because his protests turned from Wilhelm to her. Slowly she unfolded herself and lifted from her repose against the wall. Her movements lent a feline quality to her form as she mover around the room, her fingers trailing over the instruments of torture. When she had fully circuited the room she paused, her back turned to the lycan, showing no fear of the pathetic man. At least the older ones who could change put up a violent fight. Taking lives even in her pain had never been an emotionless affair for the heir to the Coven. Unlike her sister Evelynn, Rhiannon just didn't have it in her to kill without remorse. Even slaying enemies had some burden to lay on her shoulders.
Her eyes rested on the tools in front of her, but her mind was feeding her images of her mother's death as she imagined it. Looking up she remembered the open door and moved to shut it. Her companions kept quiet as she turned slowly and moved towards the captive. If her hand moved of it's own accord or she chose her weapon conciously no one was sure, but as the syringe's needle plunged into the chest of the beast his yelp was squashed as she clasped her hand over his mouth. Depressing the plunger she forced enough silver nitrate into his system to kill ten of his kind. An acrid burning filled the air almost instantly as the silver flooded his blood stream. A gaping silver and scarlet crater was all that was left of his chest as his dying breath coughed silver and blood over her hand. It wasn't until she saw this that she was aware of what she had done. Turning away she thought she would be sick. But she dared not let even her trusted Death Dealers to see her show her weakness.
"Get rid of the body," she said, her back to Faustus and Wilhelm as she looked down at her hands. Moving out into the hall she welcomed the darkness as she tried to find the nearest source of water, the kitchen sink, so she could wash her hands.
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Gabriel's eyes lifted as he heard the sudden ruckas as they burst into the house - dragging what smelled like a lycan in tow. He didn't flinch nor move... his head slowly turned towards the room opening... watching as two males dragged the lycan past the door, paying him no heed. Gabriel heard the pleading cries of the lycan, yet felt little remorse for the creature. It was really their own fault. It wasn't long before the female crossed by the door and continued into the back room where the lycan was held. Rhiannon. Gabriel again, said nothing as he slowly and silently moved towards the door - large black eyes peering out around it, watching the proceedings.
By Rhiannon's use of body language, Gabriel could plainly see that this lycan was not going to have a quick and painless death. In principle, perhaps, it was probably better to teach them all a lesson. The Prophet himself felt little remorse or regret towards his victims or those that crossed his path. Women were a different story, of course, but that was of his own moral standing. Quick and painless. Always.... save perhaps the extremely severe. Still. Gabriel had been like many other vampires when it came to enemies; relentless, ruthless, merciless. He knew Rhiannon to be very much the same when matters of her race boiled down to it.... however, Gabriel's ever-intuitive heart could read that Rhiannon's actions still burdened down on her heart and mind.
Whatever those actions may be.
And then the door shut. Gabriel backed up slowly, once more in the large dark - almost hauntingly empty room he'd found himself in before. His eyes simply staring into nothingness... large and shimmering in their doeful way in the almost illuminating darkness. He listened - hearing the small yelp of the wolf. Silently, the assassin walked towards the next doorway, leading into the kitchen.... but stopped short as he saw Rhiannon enter; something upon her hands. Silver, by the look of it. And already, Gabriel knew what had become of that lycan. His soft and innocent like features watched Rhiannon silently, until she noticed him. Their eyes locked; his large and black, hers returning to their natural green. He said nothing. But of course, Gabriel was a man of few words and everyone knew it.
Slowly, his eyes never leaving her own - the Prophet backed up, and moved himself back towards his window, leaving her to clean her hands in peace.
He knew many vampires didn't care for him; his vaccant and innocent face making many of them feel guilty or judged. But really Gabriel was thinking nothing of the sort. But in these times, many people often only judged by appearance and nothing else. So he didn't blame the others for thinking him a freak.
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If Gabriel's presence in the darkness startled her, Rhiannon did not show it. Not much surprised her about the odd creature known as Prophet. But unlike many of her kind she was not obsessed with appearances and tended to follow her own road. It was this tendency towards quiet rebellion that had made her the last candidate for being named Amelia's heir. Of all her many brothers and sisters by birth and by blood she had expected Evelynn to be chosen. Now it was too late for their mother to change her mind.
So it was that the weight of the future rested on her shoulders, crushing her fragile psyche. She hid it well, for like Gabriel she was one of few expressions outside the proper company. She stared right back at him for a moment, which helped her keep her eyes from the clotting blood and silver stains on her hands. When she reached the sink she tore her eyes away and pushed the faucet handle up with the back of her wrist. The water came out clear, lukewarm to her flesh as she plunged her hands under the flow. Anyone who had ever had blood on their hands in the literal sense knew just how hard it was to clean. She scrubbed at her nails in silence, knowing Gabriel was still there watching her. It was just his way.
When she had sufficiently scoured her hands they were red and raw. In a moment the overcleaning discomforts would look fine. Drying her hands on a white towel she let out a sigh, forcing some of the tension in her body out with the breath. Dabbing at a few spots of remaining gore on her uniform she looked back to Gabriel. "Good morning, Gabriel," she greeted him in a polite tone.
Rhiannon knew that most of their kin avoided the man, his marred yet innocent features conflicting with everything they believed their kind represented. It was never these things about him that had bothered her. What bothered her about him was that he could retain that child-like demeanor and still be such a brutal killer. Some considered him a sadistic monster, others some sort of idiot savant. She both respected him and feared him somewhere deep inside. He seemed without conscience and while there were times she wished she could command some of the same nature in herself, it was unnerving.
Setting the towel down on the counter she continued to study his face. Most others looked away quickly finding him repulsive or scary, but Rhiannon had never done so. Rather she often studied the scars that mapped across his face, if anyone had ever bothered to look past them they might see he had once been handsome. The mystery of his wounds often puzzled her, but out of courtesy she would never ask. If he chose to one day tell someone where they had originated she knew he would do it in his own time.
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He watched her silently - as she continued dabbing at a few spots of remaining gore on her uniform - before she looked back to Gabriel. "Good morning, Gabriel," she greeted him in a polite tone. Slowly, he nodded back to her. Rhiannon knew just as well as Gabriel that most of their kin avoided him; his marred yet innocent features conflicting with everything they believed their kind represented. Setting the towel down on the counter she continued to study his face. Most others looked away quickly finding him repulsive or scary, but Rhiannon had never done so....
And for that, Gabriel had always been quietly grateful. She didn't shiver when he came near her - she didn't recoil from any contact (accidental or not) that he had given her -- and she actually looked at him, and didn't avoid his eyes like so many others. Large black eyes watched her with a certain amount of curiosity and concern. "...Are you alright?" He asked; voice soft spoken and melodic... perhaps like that of a child.
It was a rare thing indeed to hear Gabriel speak. Most simply assumed he couldn't. Contact with most people regarded nodding of the head. But when he did speak, and to those who had heard it, Gabriel was noted to have a very pleasent and soothing voice; soft and innocent. Perfect, almost, due to years of silence... no vocal strain. His somewhat stiff and upright form entered the area closer to her, but not too close. He could sense a jumble of vibes coming off from Rhiannon at this point. Regret, anger, pity, confusion.
He had known her to be a strong leader. He'd seen her provide good support to the other vampires in the coven. With such a heavy burden now resting upon her shoulders.... Gabriel now had more respect for her than ever before. He had made a promise to himself long ago to watch over her. She'd treated him like the man he once used to be --- not some weird looking freak. And for that, he would be forever greatful... and protect her to the best of his ability. Whether she knew it or not.
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Those spare times she heard Gabriel speak, always sent a twinge of uncertainty into her mind. As if her ears refused to believe that such a soft sound, like that of a dove could come from someone as cold blooded as he. The tiniest flicker in her eyes was all that betrayed the reaction, if Gabriel was aware of it he'd never called her on it and she hoped he never would. Unlike those who would have no problem calling the man on his very obvious contradictions as flaws, she would not. He couldn't help his gentle voice any more than she change their death when touched by ultraviolet light.
Nodding slowly, Rhiannon let her eyes fall away from Gabriel's and stop at his feet. "As well as anyone could assume," she replied softly. Shrugging her coat off she folded it expertly and laid it over the nearest chairback. "Thank you for asking."
Everyone was asking, but it meant a lot more that the quiet loner had made the effort. The small kitchen had seen better days, but it was rarely put to use. The safe houses were primarily Death Dealer haunts, but since the destruction of their compound some of the civilians had been moved away from the Mansion and the Death Dealer squads were taking over their protection in these safe houses. A pair of mismatched mugs hung from hook under the cupboard and Rhiannon knew it was likely she could find some tea bags if she searched the cabinets.
"The sun is rising," Rhiannon said, not trying to make conversation but stating fact. "I don't think I could sleep yet. If I can find some, would you like to join me for a cup of tea."
It took a lot to admit it, but she finally looked back at her quiet companion. "I'd very much welcome the company." She gave a somber smile, and hugged herself.
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"As well as anyone could assume," She replied softly. Shrugging her coat off she folded it expertly and laid it over the nearest chairback. "Thank you for asking."
Gabriel said and did nothing, he just simply watched her. She still seemed to be hiding something from him. What, he couldn't exactly tell, nor would he ever ask her to reveal anything to him. "The sun is rising," Rhiannon said, not trying to make conversation but stating fact. "I don't think I could sleep yet. If I can find some, would you like to join me for a cup of tea?" She asked. It took a lot to admit it, but she finally looked back at her quiet companion. "I'd very much welcome the company." She gave a somber smile, and hugged herself.
Slowly, the mute vampire nodded; eyes still boring into her own. A bit stiffly, he moved across the room, and began to help her search for the tea bags... if any at all were to be found. Gabriel, in his orderly and somewhat rigid format, opened each cupboard... taking a good look, before closing it. Then, he spotted it. A small cardboard box of tea -- only about four or five packets left. Reaching in and removing it, Gabriel closed the cupboard and turned to Rhiannon -- a small, almost unnoticably small smile gracing the corner of his lips. As if proud he'd found the tea; before handing it to her.
The smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. Walking past her - Gabriel would allow her to take care of the making of the tea... he wasn't really inept in such ways. At least, not anymore. Reaching the table, he slowly and gently pulled out a chair... intending it to be for Rhiannon when she finished to sit down. Gabriel then pulled out another chair for himself and then stood alongside it -- looking to her once more. He wouldn't sit until she did; respect for his superior in rank, perhaps, but also something in the back of his mind.... something he had been taught. Perhaps when he had been considered a gentlemen.
Or perhaps, it was simply her beauty that stayed him. Gabriel had seen many women in his long days upon this earth... his mother, being first and foremost the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. But Rhiannon - - she was similar, yet different in herself. Gabriel would be lying to himself if he said he didn't feel a slight affection towards the vampire. However, he knew in his heart that she could never love anyone like him.... be it his duties, his silence, or his odd looks alone. He knew he was to be more like the loyal puppy -- the fact she spoke to him and addressed him like he mattered was satisfaction enough for him.
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When Gabriel nodded, Rhiannon went to fill the tea kettle with water. She glanced up at the sound of a cabinet shutting as she set the kettle on the stovetop. After the war began she had been forced to learn to do these things for herself. In her youth the lycan servants had handled all such matters for her. They cleaned up her messes, oiled her armor and prepared any meals the vampires demanded. Back then she had taken it all for granted. Now that she had to do these things for herself most of the time she appreciated having servants a lot more. Even still there was something to be said for having the independance.
She accepted the small box from Gabriel with a soft smile. In a silence like this many would have felt compelled to fill it with empty talk. Though he may not have known it his tradition of being a quiet presence actually felt better than the useless talk others would have offered. Sometimes just not being forced to speak was bliss.
Placing the little paper pouches filled with tea into a mug for each she studied them. Keeping her back to Gabriel she waited for the kettle to begin to rattle and groan under the high heat. Just before it whistled she turned off the burner and removed it from the stove. Careful not to spill she filled each cup equally. For years she had wished to find someone to teach her the proper Japanese tea ceremony. Americans, as much as she had grown to love them, lived in a world too fast paced and self-absorbed to take time for such old fashioned traditions.
Replacing the kettle onto the stove she carried the mugs to the table. Noticing Gabriel was still standing she cocked an eyebrow momentarily but brushed it off as politeness. She set the white mug with the big yellow smiling face at his side of the table and winked at him teasingly. How something so silly had come to be in the kitchen of a vampire safe house she had no idea but found the idea of Gabriel using it amusing. Placing the plain black mug in front of herself she sat down and then got right back up. "Spoons," she muttered as she crossed the room once more and found a pair in one of the drawers. Returning to the table again she placed them in the middle of it, assuming if he needed one he'd take it.
When she had settled in her chair finally she pulled her mug close and blew softly at the steam rising from the cup. This certainly was no way to make a proper cup of tea, but blood was not needed right now. The tea was more of a comforting thing than a need. "Why are you here this morning?" Rhiannon asked, cutting into the silence as she looked across the table at her companion. The question was a little vague but she was curious as to whether Gabriel had chosen to come here or had been driven to it by the sun's rising.