Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Thread Started on Aug 14, 2009, 10:28pm »
The young woman wandering the night-time streets was distinctly out of place. She did not look glaringly poor--in fact, she looked like a pretty young woman in a sundress, the kind that most of her peers would be wearing since the daytime weather had been so nice. But the average-ness of her clothes was certainly overshadowed by the others' swathes of bright fabric and jewelry, and she lacked the multitude of bags that they were amassing as well. If she'd intended to come here for anything, it was clearly not to shop. Moreover, the startlingly wolf-like white dog that accompanied her on a sturdy leash earned more than a few odd looks.
"Oh..." She sighed in frustration and took a seat on an empty bench, with the maybe-wolf docilely lying down underneath it. "Forde, I think we're lost."
He gave a comforting whuff and nudged her leg. If the others looked closely enough, they would have noticed another odd coincidence: The nearly-gold shade of her eyes matched that of her canine companion's. But he was currently hidden by her legs and she was acting as normal as any other lost (and slightly tired) woman would, so most of the shoppers would forget her by the time they were ready to go home.
Re: Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Reply #1 on Aug 15, 2009, 6:03pm »
To inhale London’s air is to essentially rub one’s lungs across a newly paved street. The filth that makes the scent of the area so rich and heavy is no friend to a body of strained age. Luce found himself coughing every minute or so with such repressed force that saliva and mucus would splatter again the backs of his teeth, sometimes oozing out across his wrinkled lips. For this reason, the old Vampire kept a kerchief wound around his knotted fingers, so that ever time he’d wipe his mouth he appeared to be merely attending to an itch. The handkerchief itself was becoming quite filthy the longer Luce stumbled around the narrow streets, but this nighttime act had many hours of performance before he’d retire.
The old man walked with a strange posture about him. His shoulders weren’t back, but the entire bulk of his span and height was so great that he appeared to be moving with celebration in his steps. He walked slowly, grey eyes panning the area as a steady smile lay motionless across his withered cheeks. As the cool breezes funneled through the narrow London alleyways they played continuously with the old man’s wispy hair; he appeared to have ghosts swimming around his skull, pausing to lick his spotted skin before diving back into the open night. Seemingly this was an annoying sensation, and about every tenth step or so Luce’s fat hand would move to his hair, flatten in briefly, then retreat back into his jacket pocket. His mood however, was obviously not crushed, for he hummed lightly with a growling deep voice.
For a brief moment however, this eerily calm sound emitting from behind his lips paused. His hands gingerly retracted from their pockets, one folding across his magnificent belly while the other moved to flatten his hair once more. His face robotically turned skywards, stretching the great jowls that hung from his throat so that he seemed to shed twenty years of age instantly. His nostrils opened, lungs filling full of that poisonous London air as he breathed deep the end of his search. His head lowered, face still holding that frozen smile as his withered lips parted and exhaled what had been harbored within his lungs. The sigh that came from him was one of complete content.
“Zere we ah.”
With a fluid motion not befitting a person of his age, Luce turned and retraced his steps, one hand in his pocket while the other traced along the brick wall that he followed. He walked briskly now, purpose driving the life behind his tired bones so that he nearly limped when he walked, but a child would have had to jog to keep up with him. Five minutes of this hasted manner gave birth to a wide alleyway that opened to a shopping district naught but a three minute walk from where he was standing. Settled quietly atop a park bench was something of keen interest to the old Classic Vampire. His smile deepened as he began to move once more.
From beneath the folds of expensive fabric draped across his body, Luce’s stomach groaned. Ignoring it, he walked briskly towards the bench, his demeanor quite calm despite his previous rush.
A girl sat upon the lone bench, her pet dog nestled beneath her heels like an alabaster pillow. The old man walked slower now, glancing at his spat-covered dress shoes as if to appear distant. Purposefully he kept his glance from reaching her face, and instead began to hum the tune he’d picked up earlier to erase the desperate quiet from the night. He stopped parallel to the unknown woman and glanced up at the star lit sky as his face became an ocean of seriousness.
“Why ah you out hee-ah all alone?”
He glanced down at the thin girl, his eyes panning from her warm sundress to her pleasant but tired face. “Zomeone might hut you.”
Re: Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Reply #2 on Aug 16, 2009, 1:00am »
A slight movement of Forde’s head signalled the old man’s approach, and two pairs of golden eyes peered in the direction he came from. She wasn't as startled as she might have been, but she was still unimpressed--the people who cautioned her about going around at night were often the very ones acting out their warnings, if not seeking a damsel in distress to take home. This was an older man, though, with his thinning hair completely gone to white. He was also humming a tune instead of staring at her like Forde would stare down a potential meal; perhaps he was being sincere about it.
“Thank you for your concern, sir, but I'm not alone,” she told him politely, motioning to Forde as he emerged from under the bench. His long legs and huge head were even more evident now that it was dark, and he was sniffing the air around the man in a perfectly composed manner that few dogs, if any, would be able to echo without extensive training. “Most people don’t like the idea of getting on Forde’s bad side.”
Where most dog owners would have clutched the leash like a lifeline or their religion’s symbol, Halina was barely holding the leash at all. It hung perfectly slack in her hand, with only the curl of her fingertips keeping it from falling onto her dress. This meant one of two things: Either she was not worried at all about an old man--or she was worried in the back of her head, despite his nonthreatening appearance, and waiting for Forde to confirm his own suspicions.
Re: Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Reply #3 on Aug 16, 2009, 7:52pm »
The tired body paused, chest expanding at the girl’s new words. Luce’s feet, previously perpendicular to those of his converser now shifted. He faced the young woman, peering down at her from his magnificently dressed belly. From inside his mouth moved the raspberry meat of his tongue, pushing delicately on his cheek so that it bulged in a manner that hinted of deep thought combating good and evil. With this came a strange expression from his steely eyes; where most dirty men look at a woman’s chest, this lawlessness was directed at her face. Luce seemed to rape her inside his mind with his expression alone, yet this complexity was barely visible beneath the glow of white hair and folds of age across his skin. To know the depth of Luce’s thoughts would have taken a seer, and for this he was grateful.
But his long laps of quietness suddenly dawned upon him and he shifted his weight, toying with a pocket watch attached to his vest to occupy this awkwardness. Only when his eyes focused more fully on the large dog (was it a dog? It looked feral) did he cough lightly to clear his mouth of the London fumes before he spoke again.
“Zat is quite ze doggie.” He paused again, bracing his weight as though he was considering leaning over to pet it. The girl’s warning of her dog’s productivity cautioned him however, and he remained upright. “Wherah did you get zuch a zing?” Luce’s gaze was now settled across the animal’s nose, taking in the crisp sweep of white fur that channeled along its snout to recede into a black nose. It was elegant, in a foreign way. Luce’s fascination with this primal beauty seemed to hold him poised for several seconds before he recalled his original mission and looked back up at the face of the girl. He smile briefly, his yellowing teeth glowing quite innocently against his withered lips. For such a regally dressed man, he seemed helpless and fragile. Whether this display was a coup or reality was Luce’s secret, save for the secret was he was unsure himself. Age had blinded the Vampire’s ability to reflect internally without being completely disgusted by the years of toil his body had been through and the endless quest his kind endeavored to slake their urges. Thus, this momentary confusion of his actual purpose remained aloof as the tall man stood looking down upon his companion. He smiled still, the wind lifting the light bits of hair from his scalp as he did so. There was no order to this, it was all a mess.
A mess. Unclean? Savage? The definition eluded him but surely this term applied to himself as well as his hair.
There was another awkward pause about the man’s stature before he stood straighter, let go of the pocket watch strapped across his belly, and placed one hand in his jacket, the other roaming across his head, smoothing the rogue hair with mindless ease. He licked his lips and blinked before turning back to the girl.
“Ah don’t believe Ah ‘ave caught your name. Ah am Luce V'Tolstov, of Lavrov Russia.” He bowed several inches to the audible groan of his back. “And you ah?”
Re: Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Reply #4 on Aug 17, 2009, 5:24am »
She could feel a growing distrust coming from Forde, who rumbled a warning as his lip curled to reveal markedly large fangs. Her own suspicions were raised as the man looked at her, with an expression akin to the young men who went out of their way to talk to her. But unlike them he was looking directly at her face, and if there was anything she didn’t like during social situations, it was too much eye contact. Thankfully, he stopped after a few excruciating moments and asked her about Forde.
"I found out about him from an animal shelter. They were going to put him down because he looks at least half-wolf, but I got them to let me adopt him." She didn't know the British specifics of shelters as opposed to American ones, but most people would have viewed her brevity as merely the summary of a much more complicated story. Few of them actually wanted to hear the whole thing anyway, and she had only the barest details to tell.
Was he going to pet Forde? An alarm rang in her head for some reason, and Forde shifted as well. But the old man thought better of it, straightening back up to survey Forde from a distance. The wolf relaxed and so did she, but both were careful not to show too much; she replied to his introduction with relief.
“I am Halina Kaplanski, Mr. Tolstov. It's nice to meet you.”
Re: Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Reply #5 on Aug 18, 2009, 10:32am »
There was a stiffness about Luce’s pause for reprieve, for at this late hour he felt daft of conversation and weightless in his belly. The curve of the woman’s neck was alluring; when she breathed a shift in her body’s chemistry provided a slight bulge across her throat, dulled only when she licked her lips or spoke. Had it not been for the large dog nestled at her feet, Luce’s hands would have been cradling that neck, his mouth draped wide across it. The old man’s spine lightly tightly across his organs in anticipation when he thought of his. His vest stretched tightly across his pooling tummy, bowtie momentarily being crushed by the jowls that dangled from his face. His restraint was growing impatient. Surely the white beast would damage him but…he was strong enough to survive a dog bit, yes?
But Luce’s confidence was turned to doubt as he studied that brilliant creature’s face. There was an intelligence behind those brass-flavored eyes that spoke of understanding and kinsmen ship. Inwardly the Classic Vampire’s lip curled with a foreign taste that ran with insect-feet across his tongue. He didn’t like the animal, but he couldn’t exactly pick out why. Instead he felt his steel-colored expression fall away from the neck he’d been admiring to rest doubtfully on the beast’s blazingly alabaster skull. Again, a rush of unease overtook him as he stroked the animal’s velvet pelt with his eyes. Inwardly the withering man hoped for his suspicions of its origins to be naught what his mind was collaborating, for indeed if the monster, pressed innocently beside this girl was a Classic Werewolf, he was surely to be destroyed within a matter of moments,
Then what of her breeding?
Luce’s head became a flash player of images; her body ripped apart as a hulking Werewolf stood snarling on the collapsing bench were that once petite frame had sat. Physically, the weary man was shaken, although beneath the endless waves of skin which grew from his face, this was hard to perceive as more than a momentary lapse in mental stability. He blinked several times, his eyes bullied relentlessly by the crows feet which fingered each corner of his temple with restless hands. This was an ordinary girl, he reminded himself. And this beast, her pet dog.
Ze Verevulffs destroyed so much in mozah Russian. Zey cannot be hee-ah as well…
At this point, Luce’s face was clouded by an expression half pained by worry, have contorted with concealing it. He turned sideways from Halina and her pet, arching his thick neck back so that his wrinkled face was bathed in the swimming moonlight and his jowls fell heavy and wet across his bowtie. He breathed deeply the night air, his lungs coughing a light spasm at the polution.
“Halina, zen? Vot a pretty name.” His face did not meet hers as he said this, and his deep foreign accent rang without mention of adoration nor charm. “And your puppeh doggie is almost as pretty as you ah.” With this, the thick man’s chest heaved greatly with the stench of London as it filled hi lungs and was dispersed within his system.
“And it’sah loveleh night.”
With a grin-less face Luce glanced back towards the alley he’d come from, perhaps contemplating retreating from the couple that had unnerved him so. He spoke nothing, his face tightened by worry and the pressure of the unknown. Gently the tank-chest receded, letting lax the tightness of the man’s clothes as he turned and faced fully his retreat in the distant alleyway. Only when he saw the shadows of something large lurking there did he halt.
Luce’s face grew suddenly stern as he saw one bushy arm wrap around the side of the building, almost hugging it in a primal way.
“You ‘ave to be fucking joking…”
There was a moment while the distant creature collected itself, when all in nature but its laborious breathing refused to move. The nails of the hand clutching the brick building tightened, digging into the veneer of stone like rock breaks chalk. Its claws no firmly entrenched in the architecture, a brutally ugly snout entreated from within the shadows. The animal’s face was raped by lips and a set of wildly enraged eyes. It took the monster but several seconds before its devious gaze found Luce and Halina, and even less time before the beast let loose its lower jaw and began savagely roaring.
Luce bent with the strain of the sound, slamming a palm over each ear as his confused and panicked expression turned and befell his companion. She was no longer a meal to him, for combined, they were to be a meal for their screaming intruder.
Re: Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Reply #6 on Aug 19, 2009, 12:00am »
The old man seemed weary all of a sudden; it was getting late, and even her own reserves of energy were strained from the unfamiliar surroundings and the fact that she still hadn't found one of the recommended inns or hotels to stay in until she could find an apartment. She may have been in the throes of jet lag as well, being even less inclined to talk than usual, and her mind was quickly starting to fog over sleepily despite the night just starting to take hold. She was not usually one to admonish her elders, but if Luce was being stubborn and staying out past his limits (and she still didn't like how he was looking at her), then she should probably cut the conversation short.
But he shifted his gaze to Forde, and the sudden doubt sparking in his eyes did not bode well. Had he suspected that Forde hadn't even a drop of dog blood? People had a very inconvenient instinct to recognize wolves--true, some dogs had amber eyes, and many dog breeds existed that were far bigger and stronger than wolves. But the prototype of evolution was in their body language: A wolf among dogs could be picked out like an adult among children and teenagers. They did not bark often or cavort about unless they wanted to, and the unease that she'd heard most people voice about Forde was his gaze. He's so quiet, they told her, And the other dogs act like they've been scolded when he glares at them like that!
She would have given more thought to his suddenly-emotionless compliment of her name if Forde hadn’t chosen that moment to get to his feet--but instead of going between her and Luce as she’d expected, he had jumped between her and the empty space between the alleyway. Tail up and growling loudly, he glared at the shadowed area and didn’t even look her way when she spoke.
“Forde, what’s the matter with--”
Understandably, the huge creature lurching out of the alley cut her off mid-sentence. Forde leaped again, this time to drag Halina back several feet as it approached them--and Luce’s only reaction was “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Were these things COMMON in London?!
Then the monster roared, and Halina chose that moment to drop the leash and start running. Fortunately, Forde didn’t need a leash--unfortunately, the monster was following them.
Re: Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Reply #7 on Aug 28, 2009, 7:18pm »
OOC: Take your time on a reply if you need to. ^^ I know you're busy.
A sick hiss escaped from the old man’s lips, his spine hunkering almost cat-like with flexibility and guile not befitting his age and body. His teeth were pulled apart is a vicious lash of tongue against cheeks, and a strange stretching noise echoed from his livid face. If one were to watch closely, he’d have noticed the gentleman’s upper and lower canine teeth elongating, growing nearly an inch in length so that they appeared reptilian and spindly. His steely eyes locked hard onto the beast of a wolf’s, the both of them shutting into slits of malice at the thing which had impeded his conversation, much less his dinner. Luce audibly snarled, saliva pooling within his mouth and nearly dribble out from each side of his withered lips.
For a moment, the Werewolf turned to face him, it’s nasty face wrinkled in distaste at the site of competition over the same prize. From it’s nostrils came an almighty breath which stung Luce’s lungs even from its great distance; the thing smelled of unwashed skin and Human waste. Enraged, Luce straightened and puffed out his bloated chest, trying to appear imposing to the monster that was at least a foot taller than he, and significantly more terrifying. Not to mention, Luce’s feebleness was a joke compared to the Werewolf’s unmatchable strength.
But luckily for Luce, the beast seemed to take no interest in him. It was the girl and her white dog it had set it’s widened eyes on.
The pair of them had already fled, the dog no longer held by the confines of his leash so that their strides need not be hindered by the constraints of a latch between them. Luce’s overpowering displeasure was momentarily cut short, and he almost relaxed in a new rush of pity he felt for the fleeing girl and her pet. To die by the hands of a Vampire was something to be glorified, or so he’d always imagined, but to get eaten alive by the diseased jaws of a Werewolf sounded inhumane and torturous. As this thought flooded his wrinkled mind, a new sensation came over the old Classic.
Ah should save ‘er…
There was a swift shredding noise as the Vampire leapt into the air with haste he hadn’t used in years. His clothes fell empty to the ground, the air where he stood dissipating in the thick fog of cologne he’d put on earlier that day. In it’s place flew a large bat - nearly a foot in length - and this monstrous brown-black animal took off at the advancing canine, its squeals and shrieks of warning chiming high within the evening sky. In this form, Luce’s swiftness was heightened, and it didn’t take him long to close the distance between the himself and the fleeing party. Once in line with the attacking beast, Luce approached its head and began furiously clawing at its muzzle and eyes. Although annoying, the old Vampire knew in his Human form he had no change of hurting this beast. The girl’s - and now by right, his - only hope of survival was to distract the Werewolf enough to allow them to escape.
Re: Lost in translation... Actually, just London. « Reply #8 on Sept 8, 2009, 3:59am »
Halina scanned the area for something helpful. Fighting whatever-you-called-it was out of the question since Forde was the only one close to the monster's strength, but if there was a building with steps or a ladder she'd probably be able to get off the ground faster than their pursuer. Later on when she would have less concern for her life, the old man’s lack of response made perfect sense. He’d turned into a bat upon her and Forde’s flight, something that she’d previously only heard about in stories: A vampire. Who was now attacking the werewolf’s face, either to blind it or just distract it. Either way, she was grateful for the precious seconds of borrowed time and checked the area again, this time more frantically. The other shoppers were currently panicking and running in all directions, which did absolutely nothing to help.
Forde had other plans, though: He stood his ground as his monstrous cousin headed for them, waiting till the bat version of Luce swooped out of the monster’s reach before darting behind it and lunging for the nape of its neck. Skin and muscle tore as he clamped down and shook, earning a blood-covered muzzle and an enraged shriek of pain as the creature tried to rip him off. He let go and circled protectively around Halina to keep the pursuer from trying to bridge the gap, loping farther from the monster and Luce as they checked the alleyways for something she could use to get to higher ground.
There! In the newest alley, a dumpster was situated a few feet away from a fire escape--if she got on top of it and jumped carefully, she could grab the lowest rung and climb it easily enough. Forde would be able to clear the distance even if she pulled up the bottom section, so she closed the dumpster lid (with a grimace at the brief but unholy smell) and clambered onto it with a gesture for Forde to follow. After they both were on the dumpster, Halina jumped and caught the ladder solidly, but couldn't hoist herself onto the platform even with fear boosting her normally-average strength. Forde jumped onto the platform and grabbed her forearm to pull her up, and despite his attempt to keep from drawing blood she could feel the points of his fangs breaking her skin.
Still, they made it onto the platform; Halina pulled the ladder section up and they continued climbing without further ado.
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