whatever it takes to survive Who: Fable & Valya (NPC!vampire) Where: Streets of SO When: Evening Warning!: Violence
It had been such a quiet day. Everyone was too focused on the school to bother her, but then the purchase of clothes detergent resulted in a young thing noticing her eyes and he had been dogging her ever since. He must have had the realisation that he was very likely going to die; the store had not been that big. Having passed close enough by him again to get a proper feel for his age -- and if he was a day older than a hundred and thirty then she was a Revolutionary Rose -- she knew he stood no chance unless he possessed firepower she did not have. Perhaps he was suicidal, he pondered, noting the presence of a human with a distinct lack of interest. The girl was nothing more than background noise of collateral damage to Valya, though as she drew closer with the intention of passing, her own vampiric stalker felt the need to surge forward -- and keep surging forward.
Pausing, Valya turned, seemingly unaffected, and stared into the approaching face of a fool who was either concerned about this human or hungry for her. He needn’t have been concerned either way; she wasn’t the Rider’s type. With not the slightest interest in backing down from a speeding child, she began to unwind the ‘belt’ she always kept about her waist -- then finally cracked it once to see if he slowed at all. When he didn’t and had crossed the threshold of ‘close enough’, the Rider kicked up and out with her right foot, stamping hard on his chest and sending him flying backwards. Twin black discs followed his path back the way he came until he landed, sprawled and stunned, and a hand came to rest on the gun in its holster. She looked back at the human with a mild interest. Curiosity. Mostly, she wanted to know why she was still there. Still… there was a more practical use for her. Tugging a little leather bag from her pocket, she held out the whip painful end first and opened it to show the silver fixtures -- three sets of hooks and a set of solid bell-shaped weights. “Be an angel and attach a set for me. The weights, I think.” It was not a question. She was just letting her assume she had a choice. “I forgot my gloves.” Her lips curved just enough to betray her race and her toe tapped. Tempus fugit.