Blood and Bone

"All you had to do was ask, my love." Her nails scratched along the back of his neck in an effort to sooth him. This was exactly how she wanted him -- relying on her in the life she'd given him. Realizing, even, that she could help him in ways that no one else could.

He didn't care if she looked at him now with pity or disgust, he was just too tired to go on as he always had. Too tired to fight his nature any longer, and if she was the only one who could save him from himself, he had to try.

"Alright." He agreed, knowing that likely meant he was to move back into her home and leave the one he had built for himself. It mattered little, he could simply use the Church as a base of operations when he hunted, if he continued to hunt. For all he knew, she would take that away, turn his skills to other matters.

"I'll do what you say."

That posed a question, with this man. If he was able to push her own soul into this body, did that mean he had control over it, himself? Avery shifted on her knees as she glanced down towards the ground. There were many things in the world she didn't understand, even before dying. And now... well, her memories weren't exactly reliable or present.

"I know that I need... help, with this." She muttered. "And if you're able to help me..." Well, then she'd be forever in his debt. Although, Avery would argue that she already was, considering he'd brought her back to life. She let out a breath and then lifted her gaze to meet his, her voice stern and insistent. "I want to learn."

Of course any witch could help her, but they couldn't grow her magic into a force to be reckoned with—Oberyn could take it beyond even that.

He gave a slow smile, pleased when she agreed, the cogs in his mind already beginning to turn. "Then consider yourself my newest student." The sorcerer almost purred.

Obi offered his hand out to her, his countenance entirely more agreeable now that she was of interest to him. "But let us keep this information between us. Better for the world to underestimate you and think you a weak little human for now. When you're stronger and more controlled, you won't need to hide it."

He didn't know what Aria wanted with all this, and he doubted it was just any soul she'd selected—but for now it mattered little, he would find out more another time.

Aspen's smile doesn't fade - only seems to grow that much larger. She'll blame it on the sugar, later. "Yeah, that'd be real fun to do I think. You could get me.. I dunno, maybe a list and stuff? I'd really like that. Try and make you guys look nice."

"The drugs are just an excuse, babe," he said smoothly. "I needed a pick-me-up, and what better way than to watch the most beautiful girl in Calamity do what she does best?" He draped his arm along the back of the booth behind her, taking up space without crossing into physical contact. Then he leaned in, wearing his own version of a pout - soft, sympathetic, almost boyish. The kind that softened his eyes and made it easy to forget the impurity that lingered beneath it. One that said: poor thing, I'll pay attention to you, I'll appreciate you the way you deserve.

"My business has turned to shit ever since the Slaughter Ring started advertising that tournament." If Selene looked close enough, she'd notice the hint of animosity in his tone. Despite his own involvement in the depravity that operated out of the basement, he cared very little for the establishment and even less so for its owner.

"A lot of shady bets surrounding the whole thing... likely by those same men—" he said the word like it was dirty, appealing to her previous disgust, "—who come in here thinking they can buy your 'undivided' attention." The implication lingered between them, obvious to him, though perhaps lost amidst her drug induced haze. So Olin pressed further, but not harder.

But she always had her favourites, and Olin just so happened to be one of them. "Think I wouldn't give you the time without the fun little treats you bring me?" She chuckled with a playfully raised brow.

When Olin mentioned the upcoming tournament, Selene's smile faded some. Such a spectacle wasn't of much interest to her, but the grand prize...now that had caught her attention. A wish. Such magic was exceedingly rare and powerful, and it had certainly tempted her now that she had something she'd wish for.

For a moment her gaze was distant, her mind far off before she snapped back to focus, turning her attention back to Olin and seeing the frustration in his eyes. "That must be hard." She said with a sympathetic tone for his hardships around the event.

Even with the drugs swirling through her system, the little intoxication, Selene was still sharp-minded. She tilted her head as she considered his words, delicate tattooed fingers playing with the midnight strands of her hair. "Sometimes. People love to complain about work to a pretty face paid to listen. When they aren't paying me annoying platitudes like I haven't heard them a thousand times before." Selene rolled her eyes.

Clay didn't know it yet, but his match ignited more than just a discarded corpse. It burned through a layer of Olin's composure, provoking him in a way he struggled to outwardly conceal. Had his jaw not been clenched in such bitter frustration, it might have gone slack at the sheer misfortune of it all. All that time... all that money... wasted. The annoyance was written all over his face, but attempted to be barked away by a sour, incredulous laugh. "Right," he grit, voice tight with something just shy of venom. He should have known an experienced hunter had such ready means for body disposal. "Forgot how much you liked playing with fire."

Another double entendre. This was something Olin would not soon forget or let go of, the implications of which entirely dependent on whether or not Clay had sabotaged him on purpose, or simply didn't know better. Sure, the intel of the bounty's death might still turn a profit, but without a body, without proof, it was worth a fraction of what it should have been.

He was running low on the powder, another visit to a witch was needed soon, but he had enough for now, at least should another kill present itself that night.

Clay caught the tight lock of Olin's jaw, that incredulous laugh—but the hunter cared little for why the other vampire was suddenly pouting.

His work completed, Clay simply turned to leave, his strides purposeful as he walked away from the flames not sparing a second glance. He heard the sound of Olin's footsteps, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the sudden company Clayton did not want.

The question seemed irrelevant to Clay, but he answered anyway. "He was a vampire." The hunter said simply, as if that statement answered everything. Clay despised vampires, they had always been his particular prey of choice even before he was turned into one—and since then, he'd hated them a hundred times more.

It was no secret around the Darklands that if a vampire got out of line, hunted beyond their lands or simply found themselves on Clay's list then they were destined for the sharp edge of his blade.

"He thought it was a good idea to hunt beyond the Darklands, I found him first." Clay shrugged.

Hm, the stranger is not a vampire, but maybe a sorcerer. He has a familiarity about him, but Leo brushed it away; it wasn't important.

"I almost bet on her," The fae grinned, looking back to the other instead of the ring, "I like an underdog, and the creatures we share our spaces with are so quick to count them out of a fight. They haven't survived this long without being able to fight to the death."

In his eyes if the owner of this event let a human win all it did was shame him, his competition and everyone who competed.

"Humans can be resourceful, but I'd argue the only reason they have survived in this world is because they are needed. Like cattle. Their advantage comes from pre planned attack and setting a situation up for their favour—in a straight 1v1, they are weak and disadvantaged." Obi shrugged his shoulder dismissively. The arrogance of power and age was rooted deeply in the sorcerer.

"Dumb luck is all that has saved her this far."

"What is it that you want? I'm sure that we can come to some sort of arrangement, one that leaves you with your soul intact, with a little betrayal clause. You know, if the blood you give me does harm instead of helping, your soul is mine. Normal failsafes." The demon wasn't dumb enough to blindly trust the first witch she'd stumbled upon, but she was desperate. She hoped that the little clause in their deal would have her thinking twice about betraying the demon.

For a brief moment she let her eyes fall away from the demon before her and to those around her, there were a few humans here and there—whether they were staff from one establishment or another, or wherever else they'd come from, she could pull blood from them.

At the mention of her soul, Selene's gaze returned to Azagi and she shook her head. "My soul isn't on offer, collateral or not. I'm not that desperate for your help." She said plainly. "But I'm also not interested in betraying you over a little blood." She shrugged. It left the cards of whether or not to trust her in Azagi's hands, Selene was certainly not just a pretty face though she often let others believe she was.

"You can watch me get you the blood if you're that worried about me tampering with it—but in return for me helping someone you, then you have to help someone for me." Selene offered, both of them looking to make a temporary ally not in their own interest.

Greyson didn't believe her, and that was to be expected, and at his words, she simply shrugged. Perhaps she would, or maybe the time for an olive branch would never come, and they'd be stuck in a back-and-forth tit for tat for the rest of their long lives. Only time would tell.

"How did you know? They're some of my favourite places." Bars were always steeped in sin of every kind, and a favourite spot of people looking to go and blow off some steam. It was almost the perfect feeding ground for her. She followed him to the nearest bar, ordering herself a bourbon over ice, glancing towards him.

"Rumour has it, the Forgotten Prince used to frequent bars quite a lot until his calling came for him. Used to be a party boy, little prince? I can see it, underneath that hardened resolve. We're more alike than you think, you know."

The bar they entered meant little to the Commander, he'd frequented many across the state over the centuries, less so since taking up his position—but he knew as long as drinks were served, it was good enough.

He ordered a simple vodka soda, watching the bartender pour their drinks before turning his gaze to Azagi when she spoke. "Hardly a rumour." Greyson shrugged, picking up his drink and taking a sip when it was set in front of him. The Prince had never tried to hide his rebellious past nor was he particularly ashamed of it.

"Alike huh? So you were a big party girl before getting the stick of responsibility up your ass too?" Greyson smirked, his words lighthearted for now—if the demon wasn't too easily offended.

Truthfully, not even Olin knew how the drug would affect her. Everyone was different - every species was different - but what he did know was that it was a cocktail of feel good uppers that would no doubt hit fast, peak hard, and plummet in under an hour.

Absently, he used his mouth to clean the excess from his hand. It tasted sharp, bitter, and purely chemical, briefly numbing his tongue. Not that he'd feel the effects much, if at all. A creature his age would need much, much more to reach any discernible high. His other hand lowered, settling over hers where it rested against his thigh. His thumb brushed once over the softness of her skin before he slid the baggie neatly into her palm, smooth and discreet. A small gift for her time and company. He expected nothing in return - not yet, anyway.

"So," the hand pulled away as quickly as it arrived, tone shifting conversational. "What's got your night lookin' so dull? Slow crowd? Or something on your mind?"

When she felt Olin slip the small baggie into her palm smoothly, discretely, Selene gave a little giggle and tucked it away into the chest of her corset, safe and easily accessible for another hit should she feel like one.

Selene enjoyed the way her senses tingled, inhibitions lowered, relaxed and hyped up all at once. This one was certainly fun compared to some of the others. "I like this one." She smiled at Olin, her nose scrunching in playful delight, the bass of the music seeming to thrum louder, her body shifting in a little sway to the music.

When he asked why her night was a dull one, Selene gave a playful pout, turning her attention back to him. "Slow. Boring. No one fun to pay attention to me. Just the worst people trying to pay for the private suites." She drawled with a sigh of disgust. "And they don't even appreciate my performances!" She said with a dramatic little sigh before giggling playfully. "Did you come just to test the new stuff or did you want to see me?" She smirked.

"No. That's not-- it's not possible." She croaked out, her head shaking back and forth. Her memory was fractured. She couldn't remember something like this ever being a possibility. Was it? Had it been, back then? How far in the future have I been brought to? How is this possible?

Her new body was gasping for air again as adrenaline shot through its veins. Avery wasn't the best at reading people -- her deal with Aria had been proof of that. But what reason would this witch have to lie? What did he gain from it? "I... have magic." It was barely a whisper as her eyes met his, desperately trying to decipher if he truly wanted to help her.

Obi resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the pointless question of whether she had magic, reminding himself that he was basically talking to a child. Whatever paternal instincts had been within him long long ago with his own children were long buried, but he could show grace to those he took under his wing. "Si. It is young, untrained in your hands, but with the right guidance, it could be quite something." He said once more, this time his voice was less mocking, almost the tone of a parent or guardian.

So she wasn't entirely stupid—that was promising. A little curl of a smile tugged at his lips. "What I get out of it, is cultivating power within my own people. You could say I have a vested interest in seeing witches flourish, and I take particular interest in those of my kind who show promise." He answered—his words surprisingly honest, even if they didn't tell the whole story.

Obi collected power in all forms, and when magic became available that wasn't necessarily at his own hands, well, keeping those that possessed it close, making them loyal to him—that was worth a lot.

Hands in his pockets, Olin sauntered past him to nudge the severed head with the tip of his boot. He canted his face to the side, nonchalantly studying the corpse's slack, ridiculous expression before pinching his brows in contemplation. Through the stark rigor of death and thick splatters of blood the man's features slowly emerged as someone he found familiar. Is that...?

Shit. This wasn’t just anyone - it was a bounty Olin had been tracking for weeks. Slippery little fucker too, but for ten thousand kochba, he'd been more than willing to sink the hours into the hunt. A shame Clay had gotten to him first, turning him in dead would shave at least fifteen percent off the payout. He considered voicing this complaint until it occurred to him his friend likely had no idea his kill was worth such a pretty penny. In which case....

Anyone with half a brain would know better than to end up on Clay's radar, but that didn't stop some from trying their luck against the hunter. Thinking they could best him, or their arrogance making them stupid. Either way they usually just ended up another mark on the wall, another tally in the long list of hunts under Clay's belt.

There were few who were lucky enough to survive an encounter with him—Olin just so happened to be one of those lucky few.

Satisfied that the perimeter was still empty and the sun no sooner to rise, Clay hardly spared the other vampire a look, least of all considered his offer, before he pulled a match from his pocket along with a flask filled with an enchanted accelerant. A couple drops and a flick of the match and the body went up in flames like kindling. "No need. Ashes on the wind by morning." Clay shrugged, tucking both items back into his coat. Sometimes kills were worth displaying as a warning and sometimes it was easier to erase them.

"Welcome to sweep him up if you're that desperate."

It was cute - her teasing. Sweet enough to stroke his ego and stir a sick kind of thrill inside him, but he wasn't naive enough to think it meant anything below the surface. Smiles like hers had a way of inviting the wrong kind of hope, and he had no intention of becoming yet another sucker at the club begging for her to run away with him. Still, he enjoyed her company a little more than he should. From behind, he let his gaze fall unashamedly to the sway of her hips. The outfits she danced in always left just enough to the imagination without compromising elegance or taste. As usual, she was a sight for sore eyes.

"In fact," he purred as they entered the booth- a narrow, out of the way pocket where the thrum of music and spotlights faded into a dull, distorted pulse. "That's why I saved this especially for you." The drugs. Chin lifting, he leaned back until his shoulders hit the wall, giving her space as the dim light overhead illuminated the flash of his teeth behind his crooked smile.

Her gaze drifted down to the little baggie as he tipped a small amount onto his hand, explaining it was a new mix, something not yet available to others. A small thrill slithered down Selene's spine, she did enjoy trying new things. "You spoil me." She said, her gaze drifting back up to Olin's face, catching that fanged smile.

Her instincts told her to be careful, a tiny voice in the back of her mind that always warned her when she was walking the fine line between temptation and danger—but Selene always did like to push the limits.

Oleander feels a smile come to his lips at seeing the others smirk, eyes truly looking over the other for the first time. He didn't think he'd seen the vampire in Bite, but there was a recognition there still. Not a Davenport, but of at least equal standing and importance. Perhaps if he got his name, he would remember.

"Oh, well, it was on the pretty Fae in the first round, and then he literally provoked the wolf so... I think now I will bet on my employer - Davenport," Leo answered, a knowing feeling inside of him that Thaddeus shared the Davenport's crazy genetics, and so he would at least get somewhere on that, no?

"What about yourself? I can only assume that you like a little healthy or unhealthy competition. Are you betting?"

Oberyn rose a brow when the other mentioned he'd bet money on the unhinged fae from the first round before the sorcerer couldn't help his laugh. "The one who can't function without a line of pixie? Truly a waste of money." He shook his head before he conjured himself a glass of brandy, settling back into his seat more comfortably. "A vampire? Reasonable choice, safe odds." Obi mused casually.

When asked if he was a betting man, the sorcerer shrugged. He had more than enough money to waste on bets that who won or lost really didn't matter. "Perhaps if there had been a half-decent sorcerer in the ring I might have wagered on them. Alas, I think it likely one of the demons will take the title. Although it would be hilarious if that human girl took the crown, an absolute mockery to all who competed." Oberyn laughed.

"I offered a safe shelter, whilst your people figured out a solution. Your sister turned it down, as to be expected, but there really was no catch. It was an olive branch, left to rot." In Azagi's mind, that meant the Merfolk had chosen to carry on this feud they had, and if that's what they wanted, then so be it. "She's not much for the tactical thinking, is she? That's all on you, I suppose. Perhaps it should've been you I approached, and maybe you'd have seen it for what it was." A beat, as she took in a dramatic deep breath, "No matter. No take-backs now."

A sly smile came to her features - he must really think her stupid if he thought she would fall for that, "Oh well, isn't it lucky that my schedule for today is clear. I'll accompany you. Show you what could have been, had your sister not thrown my offer back in my face."

He listened as she talked about extending an olive branch and his sister turning it down. Greyson didn't blame her, you didn't try an amend ancient feuds when you were at your most vulnerable, placing your trust in a people who had been your enemies. The Prince doubted every word, even the empty platitudes towards his pride. "I'm sure you'll find a new branch to offer when the timing suits you." Greyson replied, not about to believe that whatever game the demon was playing was now over.

Greyson had to force his eyes not to roll when Azagi seemed intent on lingering—the Commander hadn't actually intended to take a day of shore-leave, he had business to attend to. But no matter, if he had to simply give the demon the runaround for the day, then he would. "Then I hope you like bars." The Prince shrugged, heading towards the nearest establishment he could get a stiff drink—he was going to need one.

She had been pacing, anxious, and Azagi assumed the witch was either unaccustomed to seeing such violence or had someone in the ring she cared about.

"What magic are you good with? Perhaps we can help each other, considering something has you pacing a hole in the floor of this fine establishment." Deals were always her favourite thing to make, sweeter when they involved a soul, but they didn't always have to - the right quid pro quo would have the wrath demon letting mortals keep their souls. Some things were more important. Jakoris was more important.

While blood-magic wasn't her specialty, she could use it if necessary though she was far from an expert at the craft, not like some of those that lived in the city. She'd felt Zane's power first hand, and she knew of others by reputation. But should the need arise, she could certainly pull at the blood of others.

Selene was cautious to make any kind of deal with a demon, she wasn't a fool by any means necessary—not with the way she'd been raised. But she also knew opportunity when it presented itself. "Many things, curses, hexes, shadows, flames. But if you want blood, that could be arranged." Selene answered. "But that depends on what you can give me in return."

Instead, he stumbled upon the aftermath of a brutal crime scene, arriving mere seconds after the deliverance of the killing blow. Now this… this was something interesting.

Though he had yet to see the victor's face, he knew it immediately to be infamous Wayward Hunter. When he spoke, a smile tugged at Olin's lips.

"Tell me about it." The words came out smooth and knowing, heavy with the insinuation that the very danger in question came from the speaker himself. The vampire's languid gaze dropped to the corpse at the other man's feet, and for a moment, he saw the ghost of a different ending—one that might have been his own all those years ago. Slain by the hunter’s hand, laid out bloody and decapitated with a stupid, open-mouthed look on his face. The image left as quick as it came, and, in an all too casual manner he pivoted his eyes back toward Clay.

"Friend of yours?"

As he stood, Clay slipped the blade back into his belt, casting one final dismissive look down at his dead prey. He really should have thought better before drawing the attention of a Cross—especially one who was just as every bit a monster himself.

Then his eyes finally turned to Olin, looking at the other vampire with a cool sort of detachment, but beneath it there was an almost reluctant...fondness. After all, Clay wasn't in the business of letting many of his quarry live, and yet Olin proved to be more useful alive than dead—for now.

"Ain't a friend to anyone anymore." Clay replied, head tilting in curiosity as he looked the other over. "Offering yourself as my next friend?" He smirked a little.