#werewlfwithin

Things were changing. It would have been obvious to even the least attuned out there. As loathe as she was to use the word 'something' as a descriptor — it was too vague & inarticulate — the general unexplainable nature of the current state of affairs prevented specificity. As a result, the world was stuck in a perpetual limbo where 'thing' became the greatest descriptor in the human languages.

But how had it began? When had things gone south in the first place?

It was hard to say. The draw to New York City had been sudden and unsettling. Lilith had been somewhere in Eastern Europe — don't ask her where specifically (at her age, it could be hard to determine due to the way that years and places began to blur together) — when she had first felt it. The flight the States had been instantaneous. Never had the thought crossed her mind that once she got there, she'd be blocked from leaving. Trapped like a rat in a coffee can or however you wanted to phrase it. It was completely and totally infuriating.

Acclimating to a new environment was taking a moment. Unlike most vampires, bloodlust didn't dominate Lilith's thoughts and dreams. Her feedings were a choice spurred on by a fondness for the taste and subsequent feelings that a feeding would bring. Angered by the circumstances she was stuck in? Feed. Bored? Feed. For a normal vampire, caution would need to be exercised in order to avoid a stake to the heart. The daughter of Dracula had less to fear; a stake to the heart could kill her, yes, but as long as her father plagued the world she would as well. Her life being tied to his was a security blanket no matter how much she despised the root of her troubles. Besides, most looked or vampires after the sun had set. Although Lilith was no daywalker, she could enjoy the rays of sun on perpetually chilled skin.

Teeth were firmly latched into what had been an unsuspecting neck only a few moments before, the flesh supple but bending easily against the sharpened point of practiced fangs. The woman had succumbed without so much as a whisper, lost to a mesmerization she'd never stood a chance against. Lilith kept the victim pinned against the wall, her body helping keep the other woman upright. When she felt the telltale tremor move through the meal, it was time to disconnect. Today, there would be no draining or body left discarded for the NYPD to identify.

Today, however, it seemed there would be an extra set of eyes of her. The blood had briefly consumed her mind and distracted her from her surroundings. It didn't normally matter. People were temporary, trivial. They were fleeting and easy to deal with. Pulling the handkerchief from her coat pocket, Lilith carefully blotted at her lips. Scarlet glittered on the white fabric when she lowered her hand. Her gaze remained trained on the intruder who had witnessed the moment, her meal momentarily forgotten.

Dismal. That was the best way to explain the state of affairs. Completely and totally dismal. At this point, there wasn't even a silver lining to be found. They were stuck in New York City — an undeniably godless place — in some strange reality no one had ever heard of. Elsa had been happy with her life. Disgruntled at times, sure, but ultimately content overall. She had made a killing — quite literally — by avoiding multiversal travel. Other dimensions were fine, but new realities were not. Now, she was marooned with no choice in the matter.

New York wasn't entirely a stranger. Elsa had become acquainted with the city over the years, but she had never cared enough to call it home. It was for business only — if she was going to vacation, it was somewhere warm and tropical. Stepping into any dark street in NYC without being fully armed felt wrong. It was because of this that she stayed strapped. Two firearms (one loaded with silver bullets and the other with the standard fare), stakes, the dagger in her boot. Had it been a hunting night specifically, the crossbow would have been on her back. That always garnered too many questioning looks, though, so it had been left at home for a night at the bar.

Surprisingly, the weather in New York wasn't too different than what Elsa would have expected in London at this time of the year. Wet, cool, but ultimately not frigid. The chill pinched at the skin left exposed by her leather coat. Thankfully, the flush of liquor warmed her from the inside like a furnace. New York was the pits, but at least they poured a hefty shot.

Central Park was technically closed at night after one am. Of course, that had done little to stop Elsa. She wasn't necessarily looking for trouble, but her trigger finger was itching and she wouldn't have minded a little adventure. Shooting at dummies in the Avenger's Compound did little to hold her interest. It was mundane and boring and —

There.

A rustle. Nothing more than the whispering of leaves brushing together and the quiet hush of grass blowing in the night air. To most, it would be imperceptible. To Elsa, it was an exciting possibility. She stilled, eyes dissecting the dark. Waiting was no issue. The hunter stood, stock-still. Squirrels scurried across the brush, too small to be a human. It wasn't until there was a telltale crunch of a branch under a foot that Elsa moved, angling her body to block the path of the stranger.