This mad desire fluttering inside me like a hawk Who: Eilir (NPC), Kiara and random NPC Where: Ann Arbor When: 1:00 a.m.ish Warnings: Siren being siren-ly... violence and some gore.
Kiara. Was. Pissed.
She had lost track of how long it had been since she had messed up a kill. No, not messed up, been disturbed and chased off. By that be-damned woman she was going to have to track down and figure out a way to make miserable. Because honestly? Kiara was not a siren who took kindly to having her kills stolen out from under her. Especially not by some nothing of a woman who probably didn't even know what a siren was. Good thing she had come from the behind and not gotten a good look at her face because that would have made things even worse. The idea of having her face flashed around as that of a murderer or a siren - they came down to the same things these days in the eyes of the public - would have ruined her in America. Pissed wouldn't have even begun to describe the emotion that would have taken control had that happened.
And what did we learn from that little display? Eilir asked, wings brushing Kiara's cheeks as the butterfly settled onto her shoulder. It had been hours, an entire day in fact, but the redheaded siren had been curled up on the couch in her hotel room sulking for almost all of it before dragging herself up to go out driving, just to do something. The murderlust was starting to simmer beneath the surface, a yearning that she couldn't, and more important wouldn't, deny. She wanted to kill someone and had she just been allowed to finish what she started in the afternoon then none of this would be a problem. The body of the man named Angel would be taken care of, there would be a few fresh pints of blood in one of her freezers and she would've smoked a cigarette and called it all fine and dandy. But no! Some be damned do-gooder hand come along and ruined it. When Kiara did not immediately answer her familiar, too lost ranting in her own mind, there was another brush against her cheek. I think that we learned that we don't kill out where someone can stumble across and find us.
"Oh sure, take half the fun out o' it," Kiara grumbled, pulling into the parking lot of some rundown looking bar. Where was she even? Back in Ann Arbor from the look of things. "And what's this we business about? Nothing happens to you if I wind up caught by the peelers now does it?"
I'm left a familiar without her witch. Eilir's voice sounded dry. Well, dry as she could manage. That's a sad thing to be and I might just have to let myself get run over by a car if that happens.
Kiara rolled her eyes as she parked the car. Melodramatic butterfly. "Not like they'd be keeping me for long." Kiara had been in jail once and she had not enjoyed the experience so much that she cared to repeat it. Sure, the establishments were probably better these days but she had her doubts that they would be able to hold her. Not only was she a siren who had a very small bird form, she had a voice to die for. Literally. If that didn't work then, well, there was always blood magic. No, Kiara was not going to end up in jail for a long time and the most she had to worry about was her face becoming commonplace. Actually quite the big thing to worry about, but since it had yet to happen she was not going to concern herself. No point to it and it would only throw her off her game since she had to catch someone. Better that she do it while she was still able to exercise a molecule of control over the murderlust. Opening the door she reached up and allowed Eilir to crawl onto her hand. "You coming in with me, fluttery lass or staying out?"
Like I'd miss seeing you at work, Eilir actually seemed offended as she fluttered up to nestle in Kiara's hair. One of the advantages of having such a small familiar was that if she remained very still she could pass off as a particularly vibrant and well-designed hair pin. Would have better if she was green but beggars couldn't be choosers - not that Kiara had actually begged for the little creature, she just so happened to finally be growing used to her company.
"Then let's go do this." After checking to make sure that she was still presentable without any signs of dirt or blood on her, Kiara walked towards the bar. Her fake I.D. - not for age but for the fact that she wasn't an actual American citizen and never would be - that worked better than a real one. Glancing around it was all that Kiara could do to not turn on her heel and walk right back out. The reek of stale booze didn't bother her so much since she had grown up in Ireland and been part of various militant organizations, but the patrons did. Most of them were drunk and the ones who weren't seemed well on their way there. Crowd of winners right here. Pick one and we'll be on our merry little way. Drunk people made the butterfly nervous since she was of an easily squishable size and accident or not, squished still meant dead. Butterfly and siren alike wanted to steer clear of that.
No fun if I just pick at random, Kiara returned as she stepped up to the bar and ordered a Guinness. Or tried to. Apparently this hole in the wall excuse of a bar didn't even serve that. After giving the man behind the counter and incredulous, scathing look Kiara settled for whatever swill they had. Oh saints preserve, I haven't tasted anything this bad since I first came here! Making a face, she somehow polished the glass off while her eyes scanned the men in the room. One of the unfortunates wouldn't be going home at the end of the night, nor bragging to his buddies the next day about the luck he had had.
And there he was. Completely average looking he caught Kiara's eye because of what he was doing. Three full glasses balanced one on top of the other, floating in mid-air as he grinned and joked with his friends. Psychic blood almost always sold off quickly to the vampires and witches. Plus it could be used for a spell she wanted to show that potential coward of a student she was meeting that night. Whatever his name had been, the one who wouldn't show his face and had sent a corpse in his place.
Then go get him! Eilir's voice in her head was tinted with a touch of anxiety.
Patience is a virtue.
Neither of us are virtuous. I don't like it here and the longer you stay the better they'll remember your face. Looking out for you since the lust seems to have gone straight to your head!
Kiara just rolled her eyes and hoped that Eilir saw it somehow. Her familiar apparently had a lot to learn about how the Irish siren operated. Taking her empty glass in hand, Kiara waltzed right over to the man. "Can you handle another?" she asked, holding it up with a clearly challenging look on her face.
"Oh aye lass." Some of the guys around him grinned, one actually chuckling. Kiara was roughly ten levels of unimpressed with his fake Irish accent. Mostly because it sounded more Scottish than Irish and the ignorant idiot seemed to have no idea that it was offensive. "Come on and give it here." Irritated, Kiara flipped the glass up into the air, a little surprised when it caught in the space just above the others. "Didn't think I'd get it, did you? Could lift you up too if I wanted. Care to see?"
Eilir was unsettled in her hair, wings giving the smallest of beat. His accent is terrible
It's not real, he's trying to impress or mock me. Not quite sure which yet. Either way it was just as annoying. "Thanks for the offer boyo, but I don't go for the sort who mocks me accent." She turned on her heel like she was about to leave and felt herself smirk when a hand closed over her elbow. Caught him.
"Now don't be like that," the psychic said in a wheedling tone. "I was just trying to get your attention. Come on, let me get you a drink. Not everyday we have a pretty Irish girl in the bar." When Kiara agreed and stepped towards the bar with him the others scattered, apparently not wanting to mess with his groove. They'll still remember your face. "Now you must be a transfer student. What're you studying?"
"Art history." Though she knew more about it than any undergraduate or even graduate would. "Now you can't possibly still be in the university, not a strapping lad like yourself!" Strapping, right, even Eilir snickered at that one.
He puffed right up at that bit of ego stroking. "Still in school, studying for advertising. On the wrestling team though. And before we get too far and forget... my name's Matt."
Kiara only needed the name for that journal she kept listing them, without it he would have been known as 'the telekinetic who can't fake an Irish accent'. But she still smiled over the rim of her now-full glass. "And I'm Eileen."
An hour or so later had them on the dance floor, Kiara pretending to enjoy the feel of Matt's hands sliding over her while his mouth was busy at her neck. Truthfully it did feel good, making her wonder if she should hold off killing him until she got some satisfaction out the matter, but no. The murderlust was starting to bubble up and regular lust had nothing on that. But before they could leave there was a little something that she had to take care of. Something made easier by the fact that this Matt fellow had tried to impress her again, flaunting a fae heritage. When Matt lifted his head up to kiss her, Kiara bit down hard, smiling at the coppery taste against her lips. When he winced and swore she made a shushing noise, sliding her hand up to rub the blood away. "Someone likes it rough, huh?" Matt asked, smirking when he looked down at her.
"Oh you have no idea, boyo," Kiara's eyes were hooded when she looked up at him. He made an odd noise deep in his throat and bent his head back to her neck. What are you doing? Ignoring her familiar, Kiara rubbed the blood between her fingers, liking the feel. "Now if you're really wanting to impress me... change how I look, how I sound." She nodded her head at the others and leaned in, nipping at his ear. "How they remember me."
Matt grinned. "Child's play," he chuckled and his eyes went almost glossy for a moment. When they cleared he twirled her out and back in, picking up a piece of her now jet-black hair. "Black hair, as different from red as you can get." His mouth was suddenly back at her neck. "Say a few words."
Kiara slid her hand up to move Matt's head away from her neck. "Let's go somewhere a little more private," she suggested, eyes widening at the sound of herself. Oh bloody hell I'm going to love killing you. A British accent. He'd gone and made her sound like a Brit! There was not going to be a repeat of the park here. No little woman running up to save his worthless hide and forcing her to run off. Oh no, the need to kill was much stronger - thanks in no small part to the insult of sounding British - than it had been before and had someone tried to interrupt this time it would have been bad. Whoever they were would have ended up just as dead as Matt was going to be. Matt went along with her movements easily, though when he tried to say something about an apartment Kiara cut him off with a kiss, pressing him up against the passenger side of her car. When she pulled away there was no more talk of going to his place and he just slid in while she went to the driver's side.
He was talking as she drove, about how much he wanted her, his fingers dancing along her leg and toying with slipping up under the hem of her shorts. But it was all a drone to her, all outside of the desire that was pounding in her ears. The murderlust was as bad to her as her song was to men, she was sure of it. Unable to ignore it, she drove faster than she should of, sighing with relief when she finally reached an empty side road lined with thick trees. Turning off the car she flipped off the headlights and crawled right into Matt's lap, one arm twisted behind her to open the glove box. "You're not very shy about what you want," Matt chuckled, fingers sliding up underneath of her shirt when she pressed down into him. "Irish way?"
"Just can't help myself," Kiara purred as her fingers closed over the knife that she was looking for. Oh sure, strangling him would have left her more blood to sell or use later, but she had tried strangling a psychic once. It had not been all that pretty and she did not feel like ruining her car or face. So the knife it was. Sighing, Kiara slid her hand down along Matt's chest and leaned back just a little. He was grinning up at her, mouth open to say something when her arm snapped around and forward, knife glinting wickedly in the moonlight as it sliced deep into his throat. A sick gurgle came out and Matt's body convulsed, warm blood spraying out over Kiara's face. The knife fell as she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back into the sheet, eyes intense as she watched the betrayal, fear and pain flicker through his. "Beautiful," she breathed as he stopped fighting and began to go limp, the light of life flickering and finally dying as his head lolled back into the seat, blood still trickling out to drench his shirt.
Still, she could salvage a bit. Humming to herself, Kiara picked out a few vials and went about gathering a whole two and a half before she realized it was a lost cause. "Are you really playing in the blood?" Kiara asked, blinking down at her once blue butterfly as Eilir fluttered her wings in the blood that had pooled on Matt's shirt. She snorted and shook her head. "Are you having yourself a bit o' fun?"
Oh yes. Why should you be the only one to have in on this?
"I shouldn't," Kiara agreed as she opened the passenger door and pushed Matt out. It was going to take at least an hour to scrub the blood out and that had to be done before she could get rid of the body. No way was there going to be blood staining her precious vehicle. Eilir made a noise of discontent as she had to fly, little bits of blood dripping off as she fluttered there above the siren's head. "Now what do you think we should do with this one?"
Burn him.
"I like the way you think."
Kiara burned the body, the clothes she had been wearing and the things she had used to clean the whole mess up with not far from the site. Along the way home she had buried the bones - because there was no way she could get a fire hot enough to char them without the help of a fire elemental and the last one she got along with was back in New York - in various places and gardens. The most prominent location where at least half of the bones went happened to be the front garden of a woman that had annoyed her at the museum a few days prior. A black-haired British elitist.