Aftermath: Rook & Sthelada
Sthelada had just enough blood left to keep from risking frenzy herself. She'd accompanied every group of wounded stragglers the twelve or so blocks between the theater and the smoldering rubble that was once the Elysium. Once they were all safely inside, she reluctantly followed.
She didn't look up as she hurried out of the triage area. Yes, she was covered in ash and soot and low on blood, but she wasn't injured. Just too done in to cloak herself enough for the trip back across Manhattan to her shop. Or even alter her appearance. There were so many wounded who needed the blood far more to even consider such a vain thing.
It was a moment before Sthelada realized she was not the only one hiding in this particular corner out of the way. Her eyes were almost drawn to the beautiful face of the Toreador who had aided her in protecting the Masquerade. She'd never actually seen a Rose unleash their full Presence on a group. It had been beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
His Gangrel lover was doing his best to comfort the slumbering man. It was sweet and for a moment she thought to take herself elsewhere so as not to disturb them. Then he noticed her and didn't growl like he had at the others.
Sitting down near them, Sthelada smiled slightly. It was not a pleasant sight, her lips were always bright blood red and her teeth were a maw of sharpened points. But he was a Gangrel and his elders likely looked as monstrous or more so than she did.