Warlock

with a bone-chilling CRACK, the short woman with messy blonde hair broke the thief’s finger, a wicked grin on her face as he clutched his hand in pain. just moments earlier, he’d gone for some of her food when he thought she wasn’t looking, and that had obviously backfired as she reacted harshly. “if you try -,” she began, her eyes narrowed at those around her, her mouth half full of food while she pointed a butter knife at them all. “i break yours next.” she threatened, the wicked grin returning to her face.

-- & Shite. Look at this bird go ! Katherine can't help the amusement that begins to bubble beneath the surface, a glint in her eyes as she watches the violence unfold brilliantly. It's with peppy steps that carry her to sit across the opposite side of the other woman, grin etching onto her features as elbows prop up and lean forward. "Tha' was feckin' brilliant. Ain't see anyone 'round 'ere even bother tae fend fer themselves, good onye."

there is little time for fun and games, but in this sense – if you can have the proper training– then why not lavish in the opportunity? while albus had his wand, he held a pistol as a replacement. a muggle item that he has never seen in person before and so actually handling one felt strange. it was empowering, similar to having a wand; it felt like he was in control as far as zombies were concerned.  he had befallen two of the undead and he threw his hands up, “whoo !! point four for albus, and zero for the walking corpses.” he had taken two down that weaseled their way in.

-- & Cheering over knocking the dead's brains out, definitely made sense. Although it was certainly an odd thing to cheer about when you consider the realities eveyrone came from prior to this world, prior to being brought together and forced to face the death and plague that walked this Earth. "Congratulations." Katherine offers with a smile, nodding her head as she rocks on her heel easily. "Think ye can knock off a few more? Ah know where there's a couple of 'em just feckin' bumpin' into shite."

The fucker’s still moving. Roman had seen a lot of weird shit in his life, but this, this was up there with Destiny’s magic. Ignoring the prattling woman, he placed a foot on the thing’s shoulder, both hands clamping on to the side of its head and turning, twisting until the head pops clean off with a small spray of that poisoned blood, a lazy throw tossing it back into an alley. Couldn’t do much of anything without a head. 

“No shit it makes it worse,” A lazy flick of his eyes to the woman. Lucille? No. A twin with an accent? Roman let a huff of a breath, finally turning his full attention to her. She had to be twins with Lucille. No one looked that close to anyone else. “You’ve got me confused, go fuck off to whoever this Merkel is.” He made a shooing motion with his hand, indicating it was high time she left. 

-- & And just like that she's one hundred percent certain this isn't Merkel. Not that his crude words don't make that apparent ether, mind you. "Ye might want ta not be such a prick." Katherine offers though she doesn't move, if anything she's still curious about this man. He looks EXACTLY like Merkel and yet, different tone of voice; different state of dress even. "Ah'm pretty sure ah would 'ave known if ye were 'round longer than a few days -- so ye're NEW which means ye ain't got many friends."

Which also meant, if he rubbed the wrong people the wrong way? He'd be fucked. Out of friends, out of rations and certainly wouldn't be trusted with anything let alone a GUN. "Not tha' ye probably care given yer attitude, but ah'm Katherine Mim -- ah'd say et's a pleasure tae meet ye but.." Her shoulder lifts into a shrug before gaze casts to the side. "They're zombies -- dead. Keep walking unless ye take off their heads."

 Head tilts away from him to glance down at the man at her feet, deep gash across his neck to match a smaller more superficial one at his sternum; crimson creeping through his shirt tainting it a darker navy. So she had a little slip, it’s not like this guy was anyone IMPORTANT. He wouldn’t be missed -- people died all the fucking time now, what did it matter? “Ye didn’t see this shite.” Katherine offers with a step towards the other, ignoring the fact that she’s most definitely got blood on her clothes. “Ye can turn ‘round ‘n go back ta wherever ye just came from. -- Dun’t make this difficult.”

@sanguinelives​

He loves the way she’s so pliable, simply molds herself to him. It’s exhilarating, a pretty woman in front of him and her delicate hands wrapped around a gun. So close to the life he imagined when he enlisted it’s uncanny. Almost unnerving, but Merkel didn’t scare easy. “Can’t control a gun, with a few words and whips, you need to handle it properly,” His smile mirrors her own, almost an electric charge in the air. 

His hands creep slightly further down, hands encircling around her wrists to keep her arms in place. She has a natural aim, he’ll give her that. “Yes, unfortunately, they complain much more than the undead. Always angry, grates on the nerves.” Despite her body absorbing most of the kickback, he could still feel the leftover vibrations, that slight ring in his ears. His words turn up in a smirk as the bottle shatters into another million pieces, green light reflecting off of the shards. “Again,” he prods, thumb brushing against the curve of her wrist as a sort of praise. He shrugs slightly. “It doesn’t matter if it’s ten or fifty, I’m good at my job.” Another smirk, moving her to another bottle, a finger curling over hers to press the trigger as yet another bottle exploded into shards. “But, I prefer to end things before the violence starts. Less messy.”

-- & Flings had never meant a hell of a lot to her back on the Isle, not when everyone left. You learned very quickly not to get close to people, especially if they were children of villains akin to herself; everyone was manipulative to a T. But things seemed to be different with Merkel, in slight. He was different. There was seemingly no judgement between the two of them. Granted he didn't know much about her, but she knew plenty about him. He was a spy, calculated and he'd killed people before. She didn't need to know much else.

Katherine isn't DAFT in the slightest, she knows that this activity is a form of foreplay for them. The tension between the two of them higher than she can recall it ever being. His finger holds power over her own and the trigger once more is pulled, shooting the next target with such an ease. "Good at yer job, makes ye a killer. Et dun't bother ye at all?" She's quite certain that she already knows the answer to that, but all the same it's offered.

The last bottle is shattered in a matter of seconds and Katherine finds herself breathing in sharply, grip loosening upon the gun though she doesn't let it fall. Carefully her smaller form shifts in his grip until she's facing him comfortably, chin tilted upward to catch his own gaze. "Ye ever get caught 'n have ta deal with those who saw?" She's certainly no innocent little girl, but does she want to let her true colors slip just yet? "Violence is apart of et, baby. No matter whut ye do, killin's a violent act."

His hands were tucked into the pockets of his coat, judging her stance, the two of them the only life in sight. The world was too peaceful, Merkel relishing in the loud shots and the kickback of the gun as the shots almost reverberated in the air, a slight ring in his ears. Just this side of intoxicating, the sounds send an electric charge through his blood that’s just begging him to move, to do something in reaction. So he walks back to the stump in stride, picking up the extra bottles at the base for this exact purpose.

Once they’re set, he makes the journey back again, a smirk growing as he starts to gently adjust her stance with long, spindly fingers. His chest almost pressing against her back, only a few inches of space between them. “Two hands first, liebling. Better control,” Another smirk, this time applying light pressure as his hands slid down her shoulders. “Relax, it won’t hurt you. Well, not from this end.” His touches lingered just slightly too long to be clinical, voice slightly too deep for this exercise to be for just education’s sake. What did it matter, he already knew she wouldn’t be opposed to some extra  f u n afterwards. “With the living, aim for the chest, it hurts more, harder to fix, slower death, easier to hit,” Merkel’s hand drifted down towards her heart, thumb rubbing languidly at the exposed skin there.  Another set of fluttering touches, except this time his hands moved to bend her arms a hair in, to unlock her stance. 

-- & Whatever apprehension she held previously is gone, the adrenaline continuing to draw her forth into the realm of violence outside of magic. It seemed that guns definitely had a point of use, if this small practice was notion enough. Although it's a short lived thought the mere second Merkel's attention is back on her, contact all but PULLING her back into the moment of it all. "Better control,huh?" Accent heavy as she repeats his words slowly, lips pursing upwards into coy smile. Katherine's mroe than well aware of the tension between them, thick enough that anyone could notice it from a bloody mile away. He's got a lot going for him, that's fair enough to say.

Small deep breath as his thumb grazes against warm flesh, eyes dead set on the bottles in front of them; the obvious intention to shoot them again though where's the fun in that when there's so many other options. "Tha livin?" Gentle chuckle falls and she's leaning back against his frame, letting him guide her as he pleases. "Now tha's the spy talk ah've been waitin' on." A pause as she studies the allignment of her target, silent as the trigger is pulled; hitting the bottle instantly with a shattering sound. "Ye keep track of how many people ye've knocked off?"

Roman thought the worst thing about waking up in an abandoned apartment was not the zombies, nor the desolate town, nor the absence of Peter. No, it was the hunger. The hunger that made him want to claw out his own throat, a constant, painful reminder of what he was. So he had barricaded Nadia in a room and snatched one of the zombies as he stood outside in an attempt to feed.

Bad idea. Very, very bad idea.

Roman spat out the congealed, sickening blood. One arm braced against the doorway, the Upir doubled over, trying to get the already dead blood out of his mouth. A trail of the liquid was left on his sleeve as he stared at a lone figure approaching. “The fuck do you want?”

@madmxgic

-- & Katherine has seen a lot of strange shit in her life but watching someone try and eat a zombie is officially at the TOP as of now. Of course her first thought was that it was another zombie, something akin to cannabilism or some shite like that; but when he all but PUKES the blood out Katherine realizes this guy isn't Dead.

Wait a second. Azure orbs blink once, twice and then she's scoffing loudly. "Tha feck was tha' 'bout?" A gesture to the zombie who though is on the ground is now trying to get back towards the blonde, "Jus feckin' smash et's head in already." Why didn't Merkel have his gun on him? Better yet -- "Why're ye biting them, ye know et's only goin' ta make et worse -- ye could get sick, Merkel."

A final bottle was set up as target practice, Merkel walking back from his improvised shooting range. While he much rather preferred to use his brain to get out of situations, what kind of a spy would he be if he couldn’t use a gun? The leaders had put him on training duty, which had been uneventful, to say the least. These people were just so stupid. But, it meant he got to train Katherine, alone, and he would be lying if he wasn’t excited for it. 

With one fluid motion, Merkel cocked the gun and shot the furthest bottle, watching the glass explode into a brilliant, brief show of glass shards and light. “Slide this part back, point, shoot,” He breifly explained, before handing the gun handle first to Katherine. His eye was critical, making sure she could at least hold it right. 

@madmxgic​

-- & It all seemed simple enough, though she wasn't a fan of relying on anything other than her magic or a sturdy knife in hand. Guns hadn't exactly been made plentiful back on the isle, hell she'd only heard of maybe three cases where a gun was present. And given how long she was there, it said a lot. Yet there's still a part of her that remains unsure about this, but if it's going to help defend herself against the undead, how can she refuse? "Point 'n shoot." Words repeated with a sharp nod and a small step forward, weighing her options.

Fingers hold the weighted gun, azure scanning it over as if taking in all of it's details before she's copying his former movements; hand extended outward as her aim steadies. The first bullet is out with a loud noise, though it doesn't hit it's target, missing it by a good three inches; a grunt of annoyance leaving her. Instantly she's going for the next, rapid motion catching the second bottle but not shattering it. As she hits the third it explodes into multiple shards, a feeling of accomplishment lingers if only a moment. "Ah want ta do et again." After all - practice made perfect, right?

There were two ways this could end and Merkel could see them both clear as day. One, she finds it endearing and more fun activities ensue. Two, she leaves, leaving the spy high and dry and with no information at all. Really, the lack of information might be the worst bit about it. “Darling,” He clarified, an easy smile gracing his face. His eyes, however, were trained on her, watching  w a i t i n g  for some reaction.

A shrug. “Men the size of mountains with guns as big as trees. They’re violent and fun to annoy,” He liked to be right under his enemy’s nose, breathing the same air, sharing space, sometimes a bed if he was in the mood. A valuable lesson learned from M I 6, keep your enemies and lovers so close the distinction blurs. “Merkel. It’s the only one that -legally- exists,” He had burned everything with his true name the day he turned sixteen, the person he was before fading out of existence. “And you? I can understand a need for secrecy, never trust a spy and all that.”

-- & Pet names, huh? Lips purse upward into a small grin at the realization, sure as shite flattery would get this man everywhere he wanted; even in a shite hole like Blackpool. "Ye make a habbit of pissin' people off, then?" Definitely sounds like someone cut from the same cloth that she is, certainly entertaining enough if what he claims is true at least. Truth be told she doesn't much care for where he came from or what he's known, solely because none of that matters in this place; her history doesn't.

It's almost as if this is fates way of giving everyone a second chance, something terribly CLICHE like that. "Spy." Katherine repeats with a blink only to laugh, "Whatever ye say, mate. Innet like anyone's comin' after ye here. Whatever ye did back home ain't mean shite now, we're all strangers 'ere." No, there was no reason to trust him or anyone here but in the same sense if she didn't begin to trust others; she'd get nowhere. "Katherine Mim, pleasure ta meet ye."

Oh, he liked a woman with a little bit of fire in her. Bravado was always an endearing quality, one that would last too. Of course, that was often because it was the bravado getting one killed. Merkel may have been confident, but he wasn’t a fool. Being a fool was what got half his contacts in Berlin killed. “Be careful, liebling. They aren’t anything compared to the monsters out there. They’ll eat your brains and then try to take over the town,” If he was talking about the undead or the power hungry citizens, even he didn’t know.

A smirk continued to grow on his face. She was amusing, he couldn’t decide if she would make an excellent spy or an awful one. Not yet at least. “More it’s hard to enjoy the time when there’s KGB at your door. For most people.” Merkel didn’t count himself as most people. He couldn’t, he didn’t know anyone else who had slept with a KGB officer and lived. “Berlin is a ‘settle down’ place. Could use more opinions like yours.”

-- & There's simply no denying that the blonde is gorgeous, sharp witted and charasmatic; but there's also an obvious notion of not trusting anyone new in this place. You just didn't know who was who anymore, who had your back and who didn't. Still, there's something about him that's alluring to Katherine. "Liebling." It's odd against her tongue, sounds BUTCHERED in her mouth. "Whut does et mean, ye keep callin' me et." She dooesn't think it's anything negative, not with the tone he uses when it falls past his lips.

She halts a moment at his words, confusion registering. "KGB? Innet sure whut ye mean by tha', aint never heard of et before. They bad people or somethin', where ye come from?" A nod falls before lips begin to twitch upwards into a smile, genuine for the first time in awhile. "Yer not like anyone 'ere ether, -- ye got a name?"

she speaks as though she expects him to know her  parents  —  like it should all click together and make perfect sense in that exact moment,  and like he should know what she’s  talking  about.  it’s certainly peculiar,  and a tad bit insulting in a way that only loki  could  be insulted,  but it doesn’t show in his expression.  while there is no sliver of familiarity to  madam mim,  merlin is in actuality an entirely different case.  loki recognizes the name as belonging to a figure of medieval myth,  but he’s not perfectly versed in the stories.  it hardly matters much because it couldn’t possibly heighten his curiosity any further.

“ my surface is deceiving, ”  and he means this very literally,  uncaring of whether she picks up on it or not.  magic is the only remaining barrier between who he is and who he was born to be.  “ i am son of odin,  but he is not from where my own magic is inherited. ”  although where he leaves off implies that elaboration may follow,  it never comes.  “ now,  when you say  merlin,  do you mean the  wizard  merlin of arthurian legend ? ”  he is not disbelieving,  but rather in need of confirmation.

-- & Odin? The name sounds familiar though she can't exactly place it off the top of her head. Perhaps she's read something about him somewhere, or something since arriving in this place? Katherine isn't exactly sure though it falls to the side as he brings up her father again. "Legend?" What kind of LEGEND revolved around that brat. Brows fix into a scowl for a long moment, trying to remember the stories she'd heard growing up of her father and his teachings with the young king.

While it's nothing she thinks is REMARKABLE, the fact that her father is who he is, Katherine supposes it's bound to draw some attention. "Aye, he is." Pink brushes across her bottom lip in thought, "Ah don't think tha word legend should be in tha same breath as arthur, but tha's my own opinion."