𓅪

The vampire has holed themself into a corner, a great spot to watch everyone while they idly swirl the booze in their hand. It's for show of course, the poor drunkards are what he's really after.

He watches one of them stumble out the door, and contemplates going after them. If he's quick, no one would notice a thing. No one has even spared him a glance, besides the bartender.

Unfortunately for him, however, his planning gets interrupted as someone walks up to his table. Their expression turns sour as they sit up, eyeing her.

"I'm not interested."

@ourladyoftears (hope this is alright for a starter)

The woman standing beside the table is... unusual to say the least. Her elegant silken ensemble looks out of place in both style and price. She smells faintly of osmanthus, and makes no attempt to hide her jewellery. What draws the most eyes, though, are the fiery orange fox ears sticking up from her hair, and the matching tail resting against the back of her skirt.

Despite having the bearing and finery of an aristocrat, she seems very comfortable in this seedy tavern with people of questionable repute. The stares don't seem to trouble her. In fact, she seems to enjoy the attention she draws.

Not at all put off by Varyne's cold greeting, she slips into the chair across from him with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is a low purr, soft as velvet.

He reaches for the bag and opens it, taking a few coins out to look at before letting them clink back into the pile. This would be more than enough for a horse, something he had been needing for a while now. If Jiayu can pay like this, then they’ll eventually be able to get better gear as well.

Unfortunately, Varyne can’t pass on this job.

"Naturally. Who am I to hold your vices against you?" she purrs, offering a tiny shrug.

"Not to worry. Why don't you gather your things and follow me, hm? A carriage to my estate awaits just outside."

She shoots them yet another glance over her shoulder, infuriatingly self-satisfied. Confident that he has no choice but to follow obediently.

The vampire has holed themself into a corner, a great spot to watch everyone while they idly swirl the booze in their hand. It's for show of course, the poor drunkards are what he's really after.

He watches one of them stumble out the door, and contemplates going after them. If he's quick, no one would notice a thing. No one has even spared him a glance, besides the bartender.

Unfortunately for him, however, his planning gets interrupted as someone walks up to his table. Their expression turns sour as they sit up, eyeing her.

"I'm not interested."

@ourladyoftears (hope this is alright for a starter)

The woman standing beside the table is... unusual to say the least. Her elegant silken ensemble looks out of place in both style and price. She smells faintly of osmanthus, and makes no attempt to hide her jewellery. What draws the most eyes, though, are the fiery orange fox ears sticking up from her hair, and the matching tail resting against the back of her skirt.

Despite having the bearing and finery of an aristocrat, she seems very comfortable in this seedy tavern with people of questionable repute. The stares don't seem to trouble her. In fact, she seems to enjoy the attention she draws.

Not at all put off by Varyne's cold greeting, she slips into the chair across from him with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is a low purr, soft as velvet.

He reaches for the bag and opens it, taking a few coins out to look at before letting them clink back into the pile. This would be more than enough for a horse, something he had been needing for a while now. If Jiayu can pay like this, then they’ll eventually be able to get better gear as well.

Unfortunately, Varyne can’t pass on this job.

"Naturally. Who am I to hold your vices against you?" she purrs, offering a tiny shrug.

The vampire has holed themself into a corner, a great spot to watch everyone while they idly swirl the booze in their hand. It's for show of course, the poor drunkards are what he's really after.

He watches one of them stumble out the door, and contemplates going after them. If he's quick, no one would notice a thing. No one has even spared him a glance, besides the bartender.

Unfortunately for him, however, his planning gets interrupted as someone walks up to his table. Their expression turns sour as they sit up, eyeing her.

"I'm not interested."

@ourladyoftears (hope this is alright for a starter)

The woman standing beside the table is... unusual to say the least. Her elegant silken ensemble looks out of place in both style and price. She smells faintly of osmanthus, and makes no attempt to hide her jewellery. What draws the most eyes, though, are the fiery orange fox ears sticking up from her hair, and the matching tail resting against the back of her skirt.

Despite having the bearing and finery of an aristocrat, she seems very comfortable in this seedy tavern with people of questionable repute. The stares don't seem to trouble her. In fact, she seems to enjoy the attention she draws.

Not at all put off by Varyne's cold greeting, she slips into the chair across from him with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is a low purr, soft as velvet.

His eyes, glowing a soft yellow, flick back over the crowd, before staring at her. Something about her smile, the way she talks, is already grating. They seem to have terrible luck, to run into people like this so often.

Varyne sets his glass down with a soft thud. Jiayu can see it's still full, completely untouched.

"I assure you, serjo, payment will not be an issue." she chuckles, interlocking her fingers and leaning her elbows on the table. She notices the untouched drink almost immediately, but doesn't mention it.

Her smile drops as she continues, her tone now more businesslike than playful.

She gains their full attention from her change in demeanor. They won't lie, they don't particularly enjoy when these types of people hire them. Usually they are up to something shady and are difficult to work with, while those who appear meek are far more agreeable. Still, money is money, and he won't turn down a job that will pay decently.

It is uncomfortable, the mention of others 'recommending' him, he doesn't quite enjoy having his privacy intruded, but that was to be expected at this point.

"That would be 2500. I seem to have overestimated your rates." she sighs, but waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, well. Consider it an advance payment."

Her eyes flick between his face and the untouched glass in her peripheral vision, and her smirk morphs into something more amused. Knowing.

The vampire has holed themself into a corner, a great spot to watch everyone while they idly swirl the booze in their hand. It's for show of course, the poor drunkards are what he's really after.

He watches one of them stumble out the door, and contemplates going after them. If he's quick, no one would notice a thing. No one has even spared him a glance, besides the bartender.

Unfortunately for him, however, his planning gets interrupted as someone walks up to his table. Their expression turns sour as they sit up, eyeing her.

"I'm not interested."

@ourladyoftears (hope this is alright for a starter)

The woman standing beside the table is... unusual to say the least. Her elegant silken ensemble looks out of place in both style and price. She smells faintly of osmanthus, and makes no attempt to hide her jewellery. What draws the most eyes, though, are the fiery orange fox ears sticking up from her hair, and the matching tail resting against the back of her skirt.

Despite having the bearing and finery of an aristocrat, she seems very comfortable in this seedy tavern with people of questionable repute. The stares don't seem to trouble her. In fact, she seems to enjoy the attention she draws.

Not at all put off by Varyne's cold greeting, she slips into the chair across from him with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is a low purr, soft as velvet.

His eyes, glowing a soft yellow, flick back over the crowd, before staring at her. Something about her smile, the way she talks, is already grating. They seem to have terrible luck, to run into people like this so often.

Varyne sets his glass down with a soft thud. Jiayu can see it's still full, completely untouched.

"I assure you, serjo, payment will not be an issue." she chuckles, interlocking her fingers and leaning her elbows on the table. She notices the untouched drink almost immediately, but doesn't mention it.

Her smile drops as she continues, her tone now more businesslike than playful.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

Deirdre's face immediately relaxes back into her odd blank expression, which looks far more natural on her than whatever bizarre face she was pulling a second ago. It's too used to acting 'normal' for everyone but her friends, that it forgot Lorelei probably wouldn't have cared. It's kind of a relief.

"Right... Anyway. Goodnight." She stands there a second, awkwardly rubbing at her neck, then turns to go into her room.

No, Lorelei has had more than her fill of sin and guilt for a long, long time. The thought that Deirdre may still have sinister intentions lingers in the back of her mind, but betraying the one person who has shown her kindness would only add to the heavy emotional burdens on her shoulders.

She's free to do whatever she pleases, and nothing would please her more than some half-decent rest. After shimmying out of her outer layers until she's in nothing but her shirt and underwear, Lorelei tucks herself in on the couch. The knit blanket is a little scratchy, but she snuggles into it as if it were precious– which it is.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

“Alright— I was just making sure.” Deirdre holds its hands up, as if to tell her to relax.

It exhales, pulling its phone out to check the time. She could already see the sun setting even lower through the curtains.

She doesn’t want to leave her to wander around too late, especially because of how jumpy she is. She would definitely get stopped if someone noticed how strangely she was acting.

“…It’s getting late, and I’m sure you’re tired, so you’re welcome to stay on my couch for the night. I can get blankets.” It then quickly adds, “You don’t have to, though. You can leave right now if you really want, but, you know...”

She pulls off her damp hoodie and sets it aside, leaving her in a loose t-shirt– exposing more of the pale, pearlescent scales trailing down her spine and the back of her arms to the low light.

Just as Deirdre is about to leave, Lorelei turns to it again. A little awkward, but well-meaning.

"You don't have to do that if it's extra trouble, by the way. The smiling, I mean." she says, gesturing vaguely to her own mouth.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

“Alright— I was just making sure.” Deirdre holds its hands up, as if to tell her to relax.

It exhales, pulling its phone out to check the time. She could already see the sun setting even lower through the curtains.

She doesn’t want to leave her to wander around too late, especially because of how jumpy she is. She would definitely get stopped if someone noticed how strangely she was acting.

“…It’s getting late, and I’m sure you’re tired, so you’re welcome to stay on my couch for the night. I can get blankets.” It then quickly adds, “You don’t have to, though. You can leave right now if you really want, but, you know...”

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

Deirdre had already let itself in when it heard her fall. She doesn’t appear to be shocked, as she’s still wearing her shades, but she does move quickly—it reaches over to shut off the water, before kneeling beside Lorelei and taking a quick glance at her head.

No screams. No panic. No aggression. It's just standing there, examining her as if this is a normal occurence. Did it just say something?

"...What?" Lorelei finally breathes, raising her head slightly to look at Deirdre properly. Since it's already heard her speak, she makes no attempt to hide her natural voice anymore, a haunting tone like a choir speaking in unison.

She's still shaking like a leaf, but warily begins to relax as she processes what she was just asked, offering a small nod.

It has no idea what she is, but she doesn’t seem dangerous, so it’s not going to make much of a fuss over this.

She's stunned for a moment. It's a lot to take in. But soon enough, she accepts the extended hand, allowing herself to be led back out of the bathroom.

She plops herself down on the couch, eyes still wide and head still spinning from the events that led her to this point. Despite the revelation of Deirdre's inhuman nature, its hospitality still comes as a surprise to her. She's not used to it.

She comes back over and hands the cup to her, before sitting on the opposite end of the couch. It watches her for a moment, studying her. Then it finally speaks up. “You don’t need to tell me any of your business, but I would like to know if anyone saw you or if you might try to eat me.”

Setting the cup down, her stomach turns with guilt and nausea at Deirdre's nonchalant inquiry.

"I didn't mean to, I-..." she begins, but trails off as she notices Deirdre's apparent lack of fucks to give. Lorelei can't decide if she's relieved or upset by its indifference to her situation, but ultimately decides to take a breath, and just tell it what it wants to know. It's the least she can do, seeing as it's been shockingly accommodating.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

Deirdre had already let itself in when it heard her fall. She doesn’t appear to be shocked, as she’s still wearing her shades, but she does move quickly—it reaches over to shut off the water, before kneeling beside Lorelei and taking a quick glance at her head.

No screams. No panic. No aggression. It's just standing there, examining her as if this is a normal occurence. Did it just say something?

"...What?" Lorelei finally breathes, raising her head slightly to look at Deirdre properly. Since it's already heard her speak, she makes no attempt to hide her natural voice anymore, a haunting tone like a choir speaking in unison.

She's still shaking like a leaf, but warily begins to relax as she processes what she was just asked, offering a small nod.

It has no idea what she is, but she doesn’t seem dangerous, so it’s not going to make much of a fuss over this.

She's stunned for a moment. It's a lot to take in. But soon enough, she accepts the extended hand, allowing herself to be led back out of the bathroom.

She plops herself down on the couch, eyes still wide and head still spinning from the events that led her to this point. Despite the revelation of Deirdre's inhuman nature, its hospitality still comes as a surprise to her. She's not used to it.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

Deirdre had already let itself in when it heard her fall. She doesn’t appear to be shocked, as she’s still wearing her shades, but she does move quickly—it reaches over to shut off the water, before kneeling beside Lorelei and taking a quick glance at her head.

No screams. No panic. No aggression. It's just standing there, examining her as if this is a normal occurence. Did it just say something?

"...What?" Lorelei finally breathes, raising her head slightly to look at Deirdre properly. Since it's already heard her speak, she makes no attempt to hide her natural voice anymore, a haunting tone like a choir speaking in unison.

She's still shaking like a leaf, but warily begins to relax as she processes what she was just asked, offering a small nod.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

She frowns when she hears how hoarse she sounds. It only makes it question what it was she was doing out here. And how she couldn’t hear her if she were making some kind of noise.

“Lorelei. …How about we save talking til we get inside?” Deirdre glances at her as it steps over a pile of twigs and toward a half-empty parking lot. Thankfully, there aren’t many people around the apartments, besides a man loitering near a corner, loudly talking on his phone.

Lorelei scurries up the stairs behind it, fidgeting with her drawstrings as they make their way to the apartment. She's visibly nervous as they stop in front of the door, and accidentally bites her lip. It starts bleeding immediately, but she quickly flicks it away with her tongue, hoping it will go unnoticed.

The door creaks open as it steps inside and flips on a switch. It’s quite cramped, as to be expected by the seemingly cheap complex, but it’s clear she had made it her own; the tiny dining/living room is decorated with dark furniture and what’s probably a bunch of old antiques. In the corner, near the outdated television, is a sleek black electric guitar—possibly the only ‘new’ thing in the whole flat.

It tosses the keys onto the dining table and steps aside so Lorelei can get in, sighing.

The sound of the tap turns into an idle buzz as Lorelei frantically scrubs away at the surface of her sleeves. It's hard to believe this sweater was blue at one point, given how firmly the stains seem to cling to every fiber. Thin trails of blood swirl around her hands in the sink, slowly draining into the void beneath.

For a moment, she stops. Mesmerised. Her pupils widen to an unnatural degree, nearly engulfing her scleras as she takes in the sight and scent with an instinctive fascination.

Fortunately, she manages to smack herself before it gets too out of hand. A quick shake of her head and her eyes are back to normal. Human-like.

She splashes her face with the water, finally ridding herself of the unsightly gore drying around her mouth. Running her fingers through the dried clumps in her hair until the strands are soft and white again, the sound of the tap becomes a grounding white noise– keeping her mind firmly in the present with each unsteady exhale.

Like the rest of the apartment, it’s very cramped, but also far messier. The sink counter is chipped, makeup and hair gels are strewn about, and some near-empty soap bottles litter the tub. The only things actually put where they should be are the towels folded neatly on a thin wire rack.

Lorelei flails clumsily as she falls, sending tubes and palettes clattering alongside her. An unpleasant thud resonates through the cramped space as she hits the floor, knocking the back of her head on the edge of the tub. It sounds worse than it feels, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt, and the pain is enough to allow secrecy to slip her mind in this moment.

Lorelei slowly reaches up to cradle the back of her head, the slipping sleeve revealing a hint of something shiny on the back of her arm. Her unguarded wince reveals a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, gritted in pain.

"Ow..." she murmurs, but her lips don't move– and her voice crackles like a scratched vinyl being played from another room.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

She frowns when she hears how hoarse she sounds. It only makes it question what it was she was doing out here. And how she couldn’t hear her if she were making some kind of noise.

“Lorelei. …How about we save talking til we get inside?” Deirdre glances at her as it steps over a pile of twigs and toward a half-empty parking lot. Thankfully, there aren’t many people around the apartments, besides a man loitering near a corner, loudly talking on his phone.

Lorelei scurries up the stairs behind it, fidgeting with her drawstrings as they make their way to the apartment. She's visibly nervous as they stop in front of the door, and accidentally bites her lip. It starts bleeding immediately, but she quickly flicks it away with her tongue, hoping it will go unnoticed.

The door creaks open as it steps inside and flips on a switch. It’s quite cramped, as to be expected by the seemingly cheap complex, but it’s clear she had made it her own; the tiny dining/living room is decorated with dark furniture and what’s probably a bunch of old antiques. In the corner, near the outdated television, is a sleek black electric guitar—possibly the only ‘new’ thing in the whole flat.

It tosses the keys onto the dining table and steps aside so Lorelei can get in, sighing.

The sound of the tap turns into an idle buzz as Lorelei frantically scrubs away at the surface of her sleeves. It's hard to believe this sweater was blue at one point, given how firmly the stains seem to cling to every fiber. Thin trails of blood swirl around her hands in the sink, slowly draining into the void beneath.

For a moment, she stops. Mesmerised. Her pupils widen to an unnatural degree, nearly engulfing her scleras as she takes in the sight and scent with an instinctive fascination.

Fortunately, she manages to smack herself before it gets too out of hand. A quick shake of her head and her eyes are back to normal. Human-like.

She splashes her face with the water, finally ridding herself of the unsightly gore drying around her mouth. Running her fingers through the dried clumps in her hair until the strands are soft and white again, the sound of the tap becomes a grounding white noise– keeping her mind firmly in the present with each unsteady exhale.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

She frowns when she hears how hoarse she sounds. It only makes it question what it was she was doing out here. And how she couldn’t hear her if she were making some kind of noise.

“Lorelei. …How about we save talking til we get inside?” Deirdre glances at her as it steps over a pile of twigs and toward a half-empty parking lot. Thankfully, there aren’t many people around the apartments, besides a man loitering near a corner, loudly talking on his phone.

Lorelei scurries up the stairs behind it, fidgeting with her drawstrings as they make their way to the apartment. She's visibly nervous as they stop in front of the door, and accidentally bites her lip. It starts bleeding immediately, but she quickly flicks it away with her tongue, hoping it will go unnoticed.

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

Some of the dried blood flakes off her skin as she tries to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, but it doesn't make much of a difference.

"I was... scared."

Unfortunately for Lorelei, its face is pretty much impossible to read, so she wouldn't have any idea if it feels any kind of pity. She just seems cold. It isn't her fault, though, it's hard to function when you're made of dead meat.

"Okay, self-defense. You're fine." Deirdre shrugs, still speaking in that odd way as it rakes its fingers through its mess of short red hair. "You live somewhere in town? I could take you there, or to my place if you'd rather not walk around looking like you stepped out of Carrie. It isn't far."

"Okay." is her reply. It's weak like the others, her voice carefully controlled as she pulls up the collar of her hoodie to conceal her mouth when she speaks.

Admittedly, she's never been a good judge of character, but she reasons that if this person meant harm they would already have done it, right...? Besides, the prospect of being clean is very tempting.

It immediately drops it when it turns to walk through the trees, the leaves crunching under its boots. It was being honest when it said the walk wouldn’t be too long; they both can already hear the sounds of the street, and a few buildings can be seen through the thin trees.

As the streetlights beam down on them, she pulls the drawstrings on her hoodie tighter to keep her head covered, brushes a few strands of hair in front of her eyes— doing what little she can to make herself less noticeable. She keeps her head low, only looking up once spoken to. One hand pulls up her hoodie over her mouth again, while the other is put on her chest to gesture to herself as she replies.

"Lo...re...lei."

The pale figure suddenly halts in her tracks, black eyes widening with dawning horror as she comes face to face with another person.

She looks down at herself, recognising the gruesome picture painted across her form. The blood is mostly dried now, but still unmistakable— coating her hands, smeared across her chin, and soaked into her clothes.

"I- I didn't-... This-..."

Her lungs burn with each ragged breath as she tries to force out some kind of explanation. Anything coherent at all. She gestures vaguely to herself, scrambling to find words until she finally manages to spit out perhaps the least convincing defence possible.

"...This isn't what it looks like."

Deirdre had been walking in the woods like she usually did this time of day, her mind wandering as she stepped past trees. A cigarette hung loosely from its lips while it was lost in thought, thinking of its plans for tomorrow as it picked at the threads inside its coat pocket.

Unfortunately, though, she gets interrupted as someone runs into her. Her eyes squinted behind her shades at the bloody figure before her, making it look more like she was scrutinizing her rather than shocked to see her. It let out a puff of smoke as it plucked its cig from its lips, motioning with its hand as if to tell the woman to 'spit it out'.

"Looks like blood to me, a lot of it. Doesn't seem fake, either." Strangely, she doesn't sound panicked at all. If anything, her tone is rather flat, almost completely void of emotion if it weren't for that slight edge of judgment. That coupled with the odd paleness, scars, and piercings, already makes her seem like an absolute joy to be around.

Some of the dried blood flakes off her skin as she tries to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, but it doesn't make much of a difference.

"I was... scared."

Unfortunately for Lorelei, its face is pretty much impossible to read, so she wouldn't have any idea if it feels any kind of pity. She just seems cold. It isn't her fault, though, it's hard to function when you're made of dead meat.

"Okay, self-defense. You're fine." Deirdre shrugs, still speaking in that odd way as it rakes its fingers through its mess of short red hair. "You live somewhere in town? I could take you there, or to my place if you'd rather not walk around looking like you stepped out of Carrie. It isn't far."

"Okay." is her reply. It's weak like the others, her voice carefully controlled as she pulls up the collar of her hoodie to conceal her mouth when she speaks.

Admittedly, she's never been a good judge of character, but she reasons that if this person meant harm they would already have done it, right...? Besides, the prospect of being clean is very tempting.