Don't play with Monsters.
Who: Val ft. @wickedxhell (Lenus) Where: Kovali Fairgrounds When: 2130 What: Val encounters a group of hunters and their healer on the way home from a party. TW: Blood, Explicit Gore, Death
"No, Kia," she giggled as the man gripped at her hips to drag her closer, "I have to go home, baby boy." It wasn't that she was on any particular schedule, but the promise of a night with Demitri was enough to pull her from the arms of anyone - even Kia and Jasper. She pushed the man toward his boyfriend, but stopped to playfully kiss both of their cheeks rather drunkenly. Far too much bottom of the barrel alcohol had landed in her stomach - mixed with the drugs they fed her in the treats? She was less than coherent as she departed from the bonfire.
Dematerlizing was out of the question in this state. She might fuck up and leave a piece of her behind and that simply wouldn't do. She took a shortcut through the woods, barely noticing that there was a crew trailing her every step. She dipped in between the slats of the fairground's decrepit fence, stepped over the discarded, crumbling pieces of what had once been a dunking booth - and just as she was approaching the path that led underground, something hit her in the back of the head. Hard.
The offending object was the butt of a rifle, which she spotted on her way down- and there went her buzz. Sorry baby, we're going to have to reschedule our date - was the last thought she had as her palms met concrete in an effort to keep herself upright. Flipping onto her back, she stared up at a human - his lips were twisted in a snarl that could rival a werewolf's. The goggles upon his face told her he wasn't adept at hunting in the early hours of morning, when it was darkest here in the west side.
The sound of footsteps followed him as he swung again. She caught the brunt of the blow on her forearm. That would leave a bruise, surely. Despite the swimming in her head, she had sense enough to use her heels to drive into his knee, taking him down to the ground level with her. Men. They always thought they were better. In a swift swing, she ripped his arm behind his back - wrenching his wrist until it snapped and his lips peeled back in a scream.
Her other arm came around his neck, palm against his chin - and within seconds his head fell lopsided on his neck. He fell to the ground with a flop, dead eyes staring upward at the cloudy sky. She staggered to her feet, only to be blindsided by another hunter who threw holy water. The scream that emitted from her pierced the silence - bouncing off the desolate landscape. The form she held shed, all of that beauty she embodied melting away into the darkness beneath it.
Sharpened teeth replaced blunt ones, her arms elongated, blackening, ending in claws at sharpened points. Ichor dripped from her eyes as they changed into glowing red orbs- and her horns bent at her temples, curling backward. From the height of a five-foot-four woman to a towering seven-foot tall creature the beast awoke and slashed at the hunter.
Silver-iron chains extended around her torso, eliciting yet another guttural cry of agony in their burning wake, she crumpled down to the ground as the third hunter stepped into the place of the second- whose torso was eviscerated by the claws that had drug deep ribbons into it. She thrashed against the hold, grabbing the length of the chain with the knowledge that the damage it would do would be immense - but her need to survive outweighed whatever pain she might endure.
Enochian curses bled from her dripping tongue as she yanked the hunter off his feet. Slamming him face first into the ground. He had the good sense to bury a blade into her calf, ripping at the sinew as he went down. This gave her pause, enough for him to recover as she tried to yank the blade free with her trembling claws. Pain she could handle - usually. Except she'd not been ready, and truthfully, she was afraid that she might die right here in this fucking piece of shit fairground and no one who cared for her would be the wiser.
He was barking orders at someone she could not see. Something about more chains, more water - a spell - but he was distracted as she yanking the chain again, dragging him backward until her teeth could latch onto his neck. She ripped at his flesh, turning his cries into gurgling sounds as his body slumped. The blood tasted of poison burning her throat in great hacking coughs. Blood of her own dripped from her lips, foaming and dropping down her chest.
She fought her way out of the chains, gasping for air, trying to vomit up whatever it was she had ingested that was in his blood. As the chains dropped to the ground, a pathetic whine as they clamored to the rough concrete. As she looked upward, she saw a flash of blonde hair - hovering over the second soldier who was still fighting to live as blood pooled beneath his body.
Valerie lifted herself off the ground, leathery wings dropping in earnest - and started toward the last of the crew. The girl was young and it was clear she was not a soldier, but a healer - if the pack at her side that she desperately dug through was any indication. She was trying to wrap the man's center. Keep his insides intact. Pity. Perhaps she was deaf, or too engrossed in her work that she didn't realize she was in danger. Until she looked up. The burning embers within Valerie's sockets met the terrified, pale blue orbs of the healer.
With this one, she took her time. Pinning her up to a half broken sign that once belonged to a cotton candy stand. The pins? Broken poles from the rides impaled through her palms. She dangled by her arms above the scene, eyes tacked open with nails. Valerie carved enochian words into woman's skin - loosely translated to: Try harder next time. Her tongue was removed, stapled to the center of her chest. The wound in her stomach would bleed for days.
