"You are not moving to London. We forbid it," said Catalina's father, pacing the floor of their large living room in their large mansion. This room was usually decorative and only used when company came over because the furniture was not only absolutely hideous, but impractical and uncomfortable. However, her mother thought the entire room to be fancy and impressive.

What a joke.

Catalina felt her dark brown eyes roll into the back of her skull. Here they went. Telling her what to do. Again. "Dad..." She started before he cut her off.

"We did not put you through Harvard Law, for you to throw your degree away, move to another country and work for Lara Rutherford's family. What is possessing you right now, I will never know." He stopped pacing and turned to look at his daughter in the eyes, leaning slightly over so he could be on her level. "We have given you everything. Have you ever wanted for anything in your life? Anything you've wanted, needed, you've had. And this is how you repay us? By abandoning your family to do God-Only-Knows-What in London?!" He was shouting now, but the smirk remained on Catalina's face.

She loved watching her parents self-destruct when they realized that she couldn't be controlled. At this point, if they hadn't figured out now that she had a mind and an attitude that was all her own, really, it was on them. She'd been this way her entire life. Stubborn, acting on impulse instead of thinking ahead, as her mother did.

That had always been Catalina. She'd always done what she wanted, caution be damned. "Are you really angry that I'm leaving and working for them? Or is it because moving away from this place will get me out from under your enormous brown thumb?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest and her smirk becoming a bit wider. She loved pissing off her parents. She lived for it, actually. She loved them, of course, in her own way, but she was tired of them trying to dictate every single aspect of her life.

Not only did she miss her best friends, but she wanted to get away from the two people who constantly wanted her to do better in life, when all she wanted was to do what made her happy or made her the most money. In truth, she'd never felt incredibly close with either of her parents. Her mother had tried, passing down their Columbian heritage, teaching her make-up skills and taking her on shopping sprees. Her father, however, hadn't tried nearly as hard. He was a severe man, and brutal. As a man who'd come from an immigrant family, he had certain expectations of Catalina that he wanted fulfilled and most especially because she was his only child. Her parents had struggled to have any more after Catalina was born, and though she knew it was a soft spot for both of them, it honestly wasn't her problem and it didn't justify both of them acting like total dicks most of the time and trying to get her to fall in line.

If anything, the more you told Catalina to do something, the more she rebelled. Her father guffawed at her statement and finally looked at his wife, who was sitting on the edge of one of the most uncomfortable chairs in the room with her hands clasped in front of her. She was silently crying, wiping her eyes here and there. Catalina could tell that the woman knew it didn't matter what was said, her daughter was leaving.

When he didn't have an answer, Catalina let out a slight chuckle. "That's what I thought. Listen...I'll come visit," she said, more to her mother than her father. What she didn't tell them was that she wouldn't need their money anymore when she came to London (though she would happily take it, if they still gave it to her.). That she already had a spot secured at an underground fighting ring and that she'd be selling the best drugs you could find in London for high prices. If they knew that, they might lock her in the basement and never let her leave and she'd be a basement form of Rapunzel.

Her father stormed out of the room, leaving Catalina and her mother. The woman wouldn't even look at her daughter. Catalina sucked her teeth and took a deep breath. "Well...I guess that's that."

Long fingers flicked the top of the sliver lighter as he brought the flame up to the cigarette that balanced between his lips. He took a hard drag, his head tilting back just enough to allow the lingering smoke to dissipate into the semi-darkness above.

Ironic how much he enjoyed indulging in such a simple pleasure. Could be the fact that he took a risk every time he used that lighter, he mused. True, it was hardly dangerous in the same sense a mortal might find it, and yet it was playing with fire in a way. Flirting with the one thing that could potentially end him. Maybe that’s why he enjoyed watching the flame flicker and dance before it was abruptly extinguished.

Well, that and the fact that nicotine was one hell of a relaxing substance.

It wasn’t so different from the humans that swarmed outside the Bronze, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked just beyond the shadows of the night. Fragile and easily killed. It really didn’t take much, which was sometimes regrettable, and yet, despite that, they continued to flirt with death every time they chose to leave the safety of their homes.

“Oh bloody hell,” Spike scoffed, tossing his unfinished cigarette to the gravel.

He’d never been one for this soft, philosophical blather. Been spending too much time with the Scoobies, he’d wager. Some of their nonsense was beginning to rub off on him.

He adjusted his leather as if to shake that unpleasant thought from his head. It was a lot simpler than all that. Humans were meant to die, vampires were meant to feed on them and the Slayer....well, that’s just what made the game interesting.

Delphine sat in the back of her car, smoking a cigarette, watching the world pass by. Her mind was preoccupied to the place she was about to pull up to. Since becoming commandant, she'd had many naysayers to contend with, and tonight was one such night. It seemed as if every time she stomped the rumors down about how she became what she became, there was another le cochon in its place.

No matter. She would stomp this one out exactly as she did the last time...or given how adamant this person was, she could always rip out his tongue. That would do the trick, too.

When they pulled up, the door was opened for her and she stepped out, her heels clacking on the ground. One of their warehouses would suffice for this job. Other cars pulled up as well. As much as Delphine liked to throw her weight around, she didn't quite like to get her hands physically dirty. And there was something special about having a group of people who were willing to do anything and everything she asked them to do. The power of being able to tell them how to handle any given situation, and it being handled exactly how she'd described. She always got a rush from that, this time was no different.

She didn't quite acknowledge the others, so much as nodded and they followed. She could hear their footsteps behind her, but she could also hear the sound of physical violence. A punch here, a kick there, and she started to smirk.

"Well, well," she said as she approached, her blue eyes sparkling, a hint of a vicious smile and a tone that would make any man run away from her as fast as their legs would take them. "I see we've been quite busy before I arrived." She took another drag of her cigarette. Flanked by her bodyguards and those who did her bidding, she moved in front of the man and crossed her arms. She didn't know his name, or if she did, it was so insignificant that it need not matter. What mattered, were the words that kept leaving his lips. Words she could not abide, not in any situation.

"I suppose you know why you're here?" She asked, gesturing around at the space but also at the men and women she'd asked to be in attendance. It was a show of strength, a show of how much brutality she was really capable of. She did this for every single one of the fuckers who said she didn't deserve to be where she belonged. She wanted them to see. She wanted them to run back and tell their friends what she was truly capable of. She leaned forward to get into his face, and he whimpered and tried to shy away, causing the men holding each shoulder to push him forward. "Awww..." she said with a fake pout. "I think he's a little scared. But...I thought I was nothing to be afraid of?"

Without warning she leaned forward and put the lit end of her cigarette out on the middle of his forehead. The sizzle was one of the sweetest sounds she'd ever heard. As he yelled out, she inspected him and saw that he had a broken arm, possibly a broken cheek bone and the way he was hunched, maybe even a broken rib. She contemplated for a moment. What would send a message? Her eyes narrowed and she stood up to her full height. She looked at the men whose knuckles were already bloody. "I want his teeth out. Knock them out...pull them out...it makes no matter. Just make sure that he suffers, yeah? Maybe even pull them out one at a time. Then dump him where you found him."

And with that, she walked back the way she came and got back in her car, headed for home. Another cigarette was lit and a heavy drag was taken from it. A sigh left her lips as she let the smoke out slowly and leaned back and closed her eyes.

climbing up the last part of the wall, jensen smirks confidently as he sneaks right between two cameras on the top. giving his cap a little tap in greeting, he connects his wire to the top of the wall and lets himself glide down the other side easily. funny, how much quicker this goes now that he’s trying to get back in rather than to get out. huffing lightly to himself, jensen calmly removes his wire from the wall and makes it roll back up to his belt. turning his back to the gigantic wall then, he takes in the scenery on this side of it, taking only half a minute befcore already shaking his head in some sort of disbelief.

“welcome back,” he speaks up then, his voice not carrying far. a far echo of the voice he has held so dear for over a decade replies to him even though no one else can hear it. as if we ever wanted to be back here. chuckling amused at the response, jensen shakes his head lightly because of his dearest soulmate’s sense of humour. “well, we’re here now, love,” he states therefore, shrugging his backpack a little better atop his shoulders and putting his feet into motion then. just find what you’ve come here for and leave this place again as soon as possible. you don’t have that much fight in you anymore, darling. i don’t want you to get taken out by a five year old. huffing once again, jensen starts to grin full out at those words. “the only five year old with a chance of killing me would’ve been you, love.”

shutting up after those words because he is in motion again, jensen calmly starts to make his way further into claell, the city where his whole life has begun. he still remembers the years he’s spent here. although most solidly he remembers the last one, when he’d come face to face with his target and had truly looked at her. he’d fallen in love as quickly as a heartbeat and somehow he’d never been able to let go anymore. lucky for them an older westerner had been willing to help them out by getting them over the wall with an address to go to in the outside world. and they’d gone, and they’d found out so many horrible things about the world they were living in, but they had had eighteen wonderful years together nonetheless.

with the great toll the war took on them, however, and everything else they had been bred into, his beautiful wife had not survived past thirty-five anyway. an illness striking her down and turning her brittle and weak, until the infection that found her next took her away from him forever. in the physical sense, that is, because after having shared a mind for so long, he is so in tune with her way of thinking that he can still hear her talk to him occasionally, commenting on the things he’s doing or thinking, or berating him for not paying enough attention or anything to the likes of that.

“This’s a nice place ya got here.”

The compliment was quite sincerely given, both polite and friendly and spoken in an almost conversational tone of voice.  In fact, it was the sort of nice comment one might make about someone when they were paying a friendly social call for the first time.

Which would have been all well and good… if the owners of the house hadn’t been laying on the floor tied up and bleeding, the wife whimpering in pain while the husband coughed up blood and half-choked to death.

Fenrir continued to look through the room, stepping over broken lamps and ripped and torn furniture.  He absently lifted one large hand to his mouth and wiped at the blood staining his lips, not that it did much good in terms of ‘cleaning him up’ as it just smeared the rest of the blood splattered further along his face, but Fenrir didn’t honestly care about such things.

Moving up to a wall that had been left relatively unscathed except for blood splatter, he let out a sort of growling purr and said, “Oh now… lookit this… got ourselves some fancy readers fer blood traitors huh?”  He ran his finger along the spine of the books, nodding as he said, “Seems a lit’l… above yer station innit?  Ain’t ya just a,” he pulled out one of the books and began to thumb through it, “clerk er somethin?”

A smirk slid over his lips as he looked back at the man and said, “Well… you wus a clerk or somethin anaway…”

He turned back to the book, thumbing through the pages a bit before he finally nodded and slid it into one of the pockets his rather filthy, blood-soaked black leather duster.  “Still, ya got ambition huh?  ‘at’s good. S’good ta have goals.”  He plucked out a few more books and slipped them into his jacket before turning back to the man, “Course… they don’t do ya a whole lotta good when ya don’t do anathing ta reach em ‘fore ya wind up dead…” he shrugged as he leaned down in front of the man who was slowly dying out, “But… that could just be me.”

Clapsing his hands together in front of him, he eyed the man as he continued to choke and gasp for breath.  “Ya see Alex, yer one’a those people who tends ta look down on thems whose different from you.  An ya see where that gets ya Alex?”  He shook his head as though sadly, “It gets ya lyin face-down on yer floor chokin up blood whilest a werewolf prepares ta fuck yer wife like a dog til ya bleed out.”

He shook his head even as the woman began to whimper and scoot away from him. “Really… it prob’ly would’a been better for ya ta try just a little harder in life.  Maybe ya wouldn’a found yerself in this here… predicament…”

He eyed the woman, then the man, then smirked and said, “Though… she is kinna hot.”  He leaned closer and said, “Maybe I still would’a paid a visit huh?”  

He winked and patted the dying man on the cheek before he said, “Right well, enough chattin’ aye?  I mean, I’m here fer a job after all, ya gotta die one way or another.  The Dark Lord says so.”  He shrugged and said, “But a wolf’s gotta get ‘is kicks where he can aye?”  He wiggled his brows and then, in a movement no human could have possibly made, suddenly leapt from his crouching position straight into the air and pounced on the man’s wife just as she reached the door… and proceeded to fulfill his threat.

          Anastasia never would have imagined that something this sweet could taste so bitter. Lips forced themselves upon hers as hands ran over her body; touching places that she’d never been touched in before. Her body froze, let itself be taken over, as a darkness bubbled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t fight, couldn’t say no, couldn’t move. All she could do in that moment was bite her lip to hold in her cries, and turn her head away to hide the tears threatening to escape. There was nothing to distract herself from the feeling of his body covering hers, thrusting into her, squeezing her hips so harshly; that bruises would form, reminding her of this moment for days to come.

          Soon enough the Prince was done with her; leaving her body shivering on the cold and wet temple floor as she tried to collect herself. Shame, uselessness, and anger towards herself slowly consumed her as she headed back towards her chambers. She tried to be strong. If only she hadn’t called attention to her presence when he walked into the altar. It was her own fault that this had happened. Her arm wrapped around her midsection as she opened the door to her room, keeping her eyes downcast. Swallowing her current feelings she tried to push everything away and pretend it was just any normal night. Laying in her cot, as she finally drifted into a fitful sleep, she prayed to the goddess for dreams to make her forget, for the aches in her body to go away, and for forgiveness for letting such a vile act be committed to her.

          Her prayers went unheard as she came to a harsh realisation the next morning. Her magic was gone.

          For the first time since her encounter with Prince Nicolai the previous night; the tears came. They were quick and quiet, her body bent over, clutching her stomach while trying to cover up her sobs. Her breathing became so terse that she could not seem to inhale, and each time she released air there was the fear that she would not get it back.

          This was probably some form of punishment from the goddess, and here she was crying her eyes out. Showing a weakness. Anastasia knew that if anybody caught her in this position right now, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. The shame would be too much.

          The more she felt the weight of everything, the quicker her weeping subsided. Anguish quickly turning to Optimism. The emptiness that had been growing in the pit of her stomach, seemed to have intensify, but at the same time a feeling of hope seeped through.

The small dagger strapped to her thigh beneath the dress, was a constant reminder of what she was sent to do.

It was a widely known fact that most nobles had been planning the downfall of King Arthur for ages. Although they said that they had tired of his ruling and that it was time for a change; the greed in their eyes told a different story.

For months, they planned on how they could bring him down. The first step in their process had been to tarnish his name beyond saving, and tarnish it they did.

Oh, the rumours that began floating around at that time. They were quite interesting, and if she was anyone else, she might have instantly believed them. That wasn’t to say though, that there weren’t a few that she questioned the truth of.

When a discussion was later brought up on the topic of sending someone to infiltrate and discover a weakness, she chose to volunteer herself.

She had heard so much about the king and how he was unfit for the throne, that she wanted to see it for herself.

The nobles were skeptic about the idea at first, but finally relented. With her position in the ranks of nobility, it might be hard for some of them to reject her. Her family name held a lot of power in the English court, and even more in the French. They knew they couldn’t turn someone like her down.

So here she was now, sitting with a small crowd of women chatting, while the men finished their meal and discussions with the king in the other room.

Emma smiled slightly as she slowly pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She pretended to listen to what the women before her was saying, nodding offhandedly, her interest elsewhere. Her green eyes briefly roamed around the room looking towards the door, as she considered the area. Her carriage had arrived earlier that evening and she had come to stay with some of the other ladies and nobles that stayed at the castle.

Her job was actually very simple. There where two things she had to do. First, she had to attempt to gain the kings trust in order to gather as much information that could be used against him, using whatever methods she deemed necessary. Then, and only then, was she allowed to do the second thing she had been sent to do. Execute the king.

A small flash of a figure walking past the door caught her attention. If she hadn’t been looking in that direction, she might not have noticed him, but that figure was instantly recognizable.

Standing up swiftly, she apologized to the woman before her feigning fatigue and saying she was heading back to her chambers. Taking a small detour, she hastened her pace to catch up, but made sure to keep enough of a distance so that she wouldn’t be caught.

She took a few minutes to watch him from a distance, too see they way he seemed relax out here, before she made any move. Taking a deep breath, she slowly walked forward making sure her footsteps were audible. One hand reached up to push away the few curls that escaped the ribbon currently holding her hair back as she heard the accented voice and the tone of authority.

Emma smiled slightly, tilting her head as she stepped closer into the light.”Pardon my intrusion.” She could see his hand hovering over the hilt of his dagger so she slowly walked forward making sure to show him she meant no harm at the moment.

          She hadn’t meant for this to happen. Hadn’t meant to get so distracted that her control on suppressing the voices slipped. Maria thought she was starting to get a hold of herself; get used to it with the help the coven had offered her. Her control on the voices and herself had been improving. She had started going on as normally as she could, but nothing had prepared her for this.

          “No. not now. please.” her voice was barely a whisper as she mumbled under her breath, trying to slowly back away from the people she had been walking with; without being noticed. “Be quiet.” Her body was shaking as her eyes quickly darted around catching sight of the iron gates across the street. She could see the stones littering the ground in the distance causing her fear to spike.

          The voices in her mind began getting louder; some calling out to her, screaming and crying to get her attention. She could feel their presence getting closer and whispers getting louder, as she continued to shake her head, mumbling under her breath, and struggling to get away.

          Turning on her heel, she began running as far away from the area as she could. Her heart beat against her chest as she ran; anywhere her feet would take her, just away from all the death.

          Soon enough the voices began slightly fading to the back of her consciousness; leaving her body shivering as she tried to collect herself. Shame, embarrassment, and anger towards herself slowly consumed her as she rushed back home.

          She tried to be strong. If only she had been paying attention to where she was. She had gotten distracted though, listening to some of her classmates discuss their plans for the weekend. It was her own fault that this had happened. She shouldn’t have tried to convince herself to be normal. Her arm wrapped around her midsection as she opened the door to her room, keeping her eyes downcast. Swallowing her current feelings she tried to push everything away and pretend for once that she could be normal.

          For the first time since she had found out about the curse she had; the tears came. They were quick and quiet, her body bent over, clutching her stomach while trying to cover up her sobs. Her breathing became so terse that she could not seem to inhale, and each time she released air there was the fear that she would not get it back.

          Maria wondered what kind of punishment this curse was. If she had somehow violated the Wiccan Creed and this was her karma finally coming back to get her.