#nildov

He was close to Veilstone now, walking along a path he'd walked all his life what seemed like eons ago. Through Hearthome, through Mount Coronet (which caused hair on the back of his neck to raise), up to Solaceon Town.

Someone tended to the graves outside of Lost Tower and Cyrus couldn't help but stop and watch. Some feeling pulled at the hollowness in his chest, threatening to leak inside and force him to confront 'sentiment'.

He needed to move on before it could do just that, but his feet moved him before his mind recognised it.

He found himself in front of the attendant of the graves, staring down at them but not quite looking at them.

Frustration was first to bloom in her chest when the slaughter started, Reina suppressed the urge to thrash her tail from where she swam, her smile instead showing more of her sharp teeth. 'I found the ship, sang the sailors to a standstill, they're my prey,' the first thought huffed. Less humans to feast meant less food and supplies for her colony; and admittedly less trinkets for her to nab and hide away for future study and use. 'But, they are saving me the time and energy it would have took to kill them all in the first place. And perhaps I can still negotiate with this one for whatever items and food they'd be willing to part with.' Her frustration started to ease at the second thought, but now came a new problem. What was she to bargain with? This person didn't seem to need help in terms of protection, if the sounds and towers of ice were anything to go by. She had little equipment or shiny things immediately on her to trade, that could be of use. But her thoughts came to an immediate halt as she heard her spoke, looking up have violet meet icy blue, and that gave her an idea. Quick to calm and even quicker to dodge the spears, she swam about to dislodge the corpses; tying them together with some lengths of rope before swimming back up to talk to the stranger. "Many thanks," her melodic voice rang out, hoping the one above could hear her clearly. "But I am curious; may I know your name, stranger?"

The demon woman draped her arms over the side of the ship and rested her chin on her blackened hands.

“Name…” her voice edged with a graveled growl.

Her mouth quietly vibrated between a snarled mess of needled ice and teeth and something resembling human lips. Her brows knitted in concentration.

“Ouu… lll…--” a curt gruff.

Pale flesh wove over her features in a crawl. Her lips were peeling, cracked, and bloodied but looked human.

Fog steamed from her nose as she flexed her jaws. “Ah… it’s Jewel.”

She brought the still spurting neck of her kill near her mouth. The dryness in her throat was persistent as it always was. Gotta hydrate.

“Don’ know why a siren wanna know it.” Who knows, maybe she had heard of her. Jewel had hunted the frozen waters for years (several months now in this form.) Humans, animals, merfolk, serpents, other demons; everything was wild game when she was hungry. The pangs gripped her in a blind fury at its worst, a far cry from her pitiful cravings as a human girl.

"This is nothing," she replies.

Karin would undoubtedly like to have her face fixed. It's not like it'll scar either way because that's just not how vampirism works, but it'll burn a lot of blood to regenerate, and sickly blood, while operable, is comparable to junk food. It does less than protein-rich food.

However, she imagines it would take a lot out of Sithis to heal her face. Karin doesn't know shit of thaumaturgy or magic or whatnot, but she knows all things come at a price, and given there's still work to be done staging a robbery and dodging the wannabe Van Helsings that fucked up her face, it doesn't seem prudent to waste energy on her face just yet.

everybody makes mistakes. (Aizen for Sci-fi verse, please)

The gentle voice, synthesized through digitized, metalic tones, is still capable of falsely inducing a discernible sense of security as it responds to the android counterpart seeking to conversate further.

“Longer than you’ve been alive…” (Grimmjow)

This lording, uppity woman. He couldn't stand the superiority she was attempting to wield over him. He scowled at her condescending tone. "Tch." Like he needed to be fucking scolded at every turn or made to be reminded that she supposedly 'knew better' just because she'd been around longer. Yeah, ya know what else experience does, it makes people grow hesitant. And he wasn't one to bank on any waiting. Not when he knew action was needed.

Action got results.

@nildov said:

"I-" There was a pause, somewhere between confusion, amusement, and astonishment; it took a moment for Ombretta to fully register what had been said.

"Usually, yes, if you're bad at it or get caught? I- Okay. Before my brain goes to off the tracks; do I need to phone a friend, or are you messing with me?" She was willing to help if they needed it. She just needed to be sure...

When Jewel sat down, she embodied a different sort of mess than the one she had previously introduced herself in. Between the sweat glistened skin and the dull smears of dirt by her ears and neck, and her long, dirty fingernails, she looked like she had just gotten done running a marathon after stumbling a couple times.

“It ain’t me they’re buggin’ it’s yer cafe they’re sniffin’ around.” She said, “Bit of a roundabout way a’offerin’ up my services is all.”

{txt: Hey, it’s Jewel. It’s been less than a week and I’m not dead. You still available for a meetup ta see my shit? ]

{ txt: To share collections of stuff I mean. The knives and bones and stuff. ]

{ txt: I really hope this is right number lmao ]