ongoing | closed

[commarogue]

When; Jan 5, evening
Rating; Language, violence, near-death.
Characters; miseternity, commarogue
Summary; Once upon a time there was a snarky second hand vampire slayer whose britches were way too big for her and she almost kicked the bucket, except there is also a charming new vampire on the block with hair that was appropriately floppy and the attitude opposite that often found on a white knight. Which he is. Good times.
Log;

So, the demon -- beast -- thing, whatever. It's way bigger than Faith had originally thought. Kinda stronger too, if the Faith-shaped dent in the cavern wall is any indication. Honestly, it was extremely rash and foolish of her to delve this deep but -- well, Faith isn't all that much of a think-ahead-er. Much more the type to dive right in and see what kind of chaos brews.

Usually it doesn't backfire on her this badly.

The thing roars; the books always say "gaping maw" and until now, she'd always thought that was a bunch of bullshit but this thing? It's maw is most certainly gaping. Not that she can see it all that clearly, what with her head swimming and entire face bleeding. Which isn't all that fun, really.

So maybe she lets out a yelp of pain when it grips her by the neck and lifts. And quite possibly, with that broken arm and cracked ribs is only barely trying to get out of the sticky situation. You see, Faith has resigned, about 12 seconds ago, that she is in fact going to die down here in the armpit of the City. And honestly, that suits her just fine.

Comments

[compels]

Avoiding Stefan and his parade of self-loathing was turning out to be easier in the City than he'd expected it to be -- probably because his brother's self-righteous pedestal happened to keep him in the Overground most of the time, whereas Damon had more or less found his calling deep in the pits of the City's Underground. There was symbolism to be found in that somewhere, he was sure, but he could honestly not care less about evaluating it.

Exploring his surroundings was the obvious choice, and more or less what had brought him as deep as he was wandering. There were stories, of course -- big, menacing monsters that kept people on their toes, kept them from venturing too far. But what good was being undead if you were afraid of the other bumps in the night? A part of him wanted to find them, honestly. See what they could do -- see if they were anything to be scared of.

Stefan would be grateful for the reconnaissance. Or, well, he should be.

It was the yelp of pain that really got his attention, though. Wandering with his hands tucked in his pockets, using that handy speed trick to dodge any of the nasty things that came his way, he stopped short and just listened. Pretty distant still, but definitely audible, he could hear the slow crushing of Faith's trachea, though the noise itself was impossible to identify beyond bad news.

So, he did what any reasonable vampire would do and ran towards it. Worst case scenario, he booked it out of there before anything could nail him and he at least got a glimpse of who was getting their ass handed to them by -- the enormous beast that he stumbled upon as he skidded to a halt.

"You know, if I were you," he tried to distract the monster -- get its attention. There was mild success, because his grip on the girl seemed to loosen, "I'd at least buy her dinner first. I mean, come on." Aggravated by his baiting -- bingo, all brawn, no brains -- the monster used one of its colossal hands to casually toss Faith towards a wall so he could move towards Damon, but Damon wasn't interested in the monster for the time being.

He was far more interested in what kind of girl would be stupid enough to wander down this way. You didn't just get turned around and wind up this far in the Underground. You went with purpose. So, the speed kicked into gear and he darted in a half-circle around the beast, catching her before she could hit the ground and worsen her injuries.

[commarogue]

She could hear someone talking, and honestly she was finding it hard to care that the idiot decided today was the day to jump in and have a piece of get-my-ass-kicked-pie. Of course, then there's the sudden loosening of the grip around her neck which is helpful though unexpected.

Faith braced for the fall, which maybe would wake her ass up and out of this half-dead almost-coma (oh good, another one). The force that hit her and kept moving elicited a much lesser cough than she'd expected from the height of the fall, which was in fact very high.

Realizing that there were arms securing her, Faith immediately kicked out, panic inciting her survival instinct once again.

[compels]

Her kick hit him square in the knee and he buckled, dropping her haphazardly rather than slowly resting her on the ground like he'd intended. A hiss of pain escaped him as he glared at the only partially conscious girl -- feisty, he'd give her that, and if it were Elena he'd probably even be a little proud. But, for now it was just annoying. He let her slump to the ground with a thud and stepped back.

"Someone needs to work on their communication skills. Thank you isn't usually accompanied by violence," he scowled, but he couldn't take much time to quip. The monster was slowly turning back towards them and he slowly began to straighten up. "Don't move," he ordered, eyes catching glimpse of the knife at her waist. Pretty nice piece for a girl her size. He grabs it without asking permission and stands quickly, making a run for the big and nasty.

All in all, with speed on his side it wasn't hard to get up under the thing's flapping gums and drive the knife up through his soft palate into his skull. It wasn't the fastest thing he'd seen and compartmentalizing how disturbing it looked was pretty easy while two lives were at risk. He could touch back on that consideration later and wonder what corner of Hell it had crawled out of -- maybe even ask his new, unconscious friend.

If she could even remember. From the looks of it, even her name or apartment number would be hoping a lot and, well, he wasn't one for getting his hopes up. Not anymore.

[commarogue]

Another groan of pain elicited from her as she hit the ground, and it may have taken the form of one of her favorite curse words if it wasn't so slurred. If her catcher only knew the truth of his assessment of her communication skills, he'd probably have kept his mouth shut. Wasn't the first, wouldn't be the last to make that observation.

His command is barely registered, though it does make her buck slightly when his hand goes for her knife. Her favorite, hence its place tucked so close to her person. There might have been protesting regardless of pain and ability if she hadn't been able to roll enough to see him use it, smooth and fluid. It was another few moments of struggle before her head began to swim harder and lulled toward the ground.

"It's a--" she had to pause before forcing the rest out. "Nest. Has friends." Yeah, communication. It was totally Faith's strong point.

[compels]

He drew it out of the monster and wiped it on his pant leg begrudgingly, frowning down at the stain it left. Designer pants weren't the kind of thing you wanted to turn into a napkin, but … concessions had to be made, and he had enough respect for a girl who'd carry a knife like that with her to at least keep it clean when he returned it. For now, though, he tucked it briefly in his pants and moved back to where Faith was, crouching beside her.

"Then, I guess we'd better move fast," he responded with an expectant raise of his eyebrows. He purposefully dragged his gaze over her body, mostly to indicate the injuries but partially for less noble reasons -- what? The damsel gig was supposed to be rewarding, he couldn't help that she had curves like the autobahn. He didn't touch her, though -- not yet, anyway. For the time being, he'd rather avoid getting a repeat performance of her kicking and screaming.

"Now are you going to let me carry you, or should I knock you out so we can actually get out of here before you start trying to turn that charming attitude on me instead of your suicide mission?" He said it through a pleasantly patronizing smile, eyes darting quickly back to meet hers as he spoke.

[commarogue]

Faith wasn't unused to having to be saved. Almost everyone she knew had done or tried to do it at some point and either physically or in some cosmic bullshit figurative manner. It wasn't really pride that got in the way whenever someone tried it -- who was she kidding, Faith had virtually no pride to accompany the lack of shame. If anything, it was lack of trust that always stopped her from the leg up that she needed. This guy, however; clearly a pain in the ass, treated her knife like a pro and wasn't asking about what such a tiny girl was doing down in the filth like this.

So she stared at him, a brief and serious pause while she considered her choices at his offer. Then, quick as ever, she attempted to smile (it may have resembled more of a grimace) and forced herself to lean up on an arm, as much as it stung and shook. "Long as I get to be on top, tiger."

[compels]

The smile tugged into a smirk and he just nodded at that, taking advantage of the way she'd propped herself up to scoop an arm under her shoulders, his other sliding under her knees. He lifted her as he stood with a kind of ease that you wouldn't see in a human unless he was at least twice Damon's size -- when it came to someone as lithe as he was, the obvious answer was that he was a non-human of some kind. A city like this, the definitive answer was hard to tell.

It took a moment, but he was able to place the voice while he began to carry her away from the scene, back up towards where the exit of the Underground would be found. The walk was long, but he was in no rush. There was no reason to be quite yet, and his speed would solve things if they got dicey again -- particularly now that she, the smart-mouthed, overconfident bitch he'd spoken with his first day -- wasn't kicking.

"That all depends on if you make good on that cream soda," he informed evenly.

[commarogue]

She tried to help; if by some force of willpower she could make her small frame even lighter, Faith would attempt to do so. The hold she had on his neck was firm, for reason of stability and her best chance at retaliation were this to go badly. Clearly White Knight guy here was some kind of other, but until she knew which, she'd be on her guard.

There's a reason she's the second hand slayer.

At his comment, Faith let out a quiet chuckle to herself, shaking her head in mild (but not really) disbelief. Now aware that Cocky McGee had bite to back up his bark, he earned a sliver of respect. Of course, Faith's method of saying thank you was a bit different than what was considered normal. Of course, she was also not entirely in her right mind. Well, more than usual anyway.

"After the movie." Even half dead, she couldn't resist the banter. Probably a slayer thing. "...M'thinking more IV beer drip, though."

[compels]

Considering the strength with which she'd been kicking him earlier, Damon knew he probably should have had the sense of seriousness to know where to draw the line in his snark. The last thing he needed was her throwing a fit again now that he had her in his arms -- but, no. That kind of presence of thought was wayyyy beyond his maturity level.

"I'll see what I can do. Maybe it'll make you taste better if I get tired of all that attitude." He was, of course, mostly joking. Her warnings hadn't stopped him from snacking on the occasional waitress, but between compelling and having easily accessible blood down at the Raven, it almost wasn't worth it to actively hunt. Much easier than that hospital blood bag crap.

Of course, banter was only good for so much. He heard behind them a shuffling noise and groaned, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated way before looking down at her.

"Hold on," he ordered, as though she weren't already holding tight enough. The last thing he needed was her losing her grip mid-stride. Without so much as a pause for confirmation, though, he began to run -- vampires' enhanced speed had its benefits, and one of those happened to be getting out of messy situations and back to the overground in record time. Now there was just the matter of finding the hospital. It hadn't exactly been the top of his list of tourist spots since arriving.

[commarogue]

Aside from all of her other preternatural innate talents, Faith was really good at distraction and denial. Add on top of that her self absorption to the point of presenting as ignorance and a lack of intelligence and her first comment back at him probably made a little more sense.

"Kinky." It was punctuated with a leer; the predatory kind usually only men can pull off and made only that more humorous by the fact that she was in no position to be considered a predator. Oh, and its complete lack of understanding of what Damon truly meant. "But that depends on how you play your cards."

Her grip tightened marginally. Faith was the type (and that type might simply be slayer) to hold on to consciousness despite blood loss and being beaten to something of a pulp out of some need for a semblance of control over her own life. She knew somewhere deep down that in reality she could lose it at the drop of a hat and not really be able to do much about it. Still, she forced herself to keep conscious-- the sudden speed lending a hand to that end, fortunately.

"Apartment's on the south side." Not that she knew which direction he was headed in to start, but he hadn't asked. "Building 8."

[compels]

Of course she wanted to just go back to her apartment. What injured moron didn't? But, all things considered, the CIty's dead only lasted a day anyway. If she wanted to go out in miserable agony on her couch, more power to her. His job would be done as soon as he got her there. Besides that, he could imagine plenty of people in this town had valid reason to not want to show up to a hospital.

"I didn't realize you were in any position to be so demanding," he returned, coming to a stop in the square and eyeing the buildings around them. Eight would be … He picked the speed back up and raced to the front of building eight, pushing his way in through the doors with her in his arms. "Do I get a room number, or should I start working on psychically extracting it?"

It was a kind of afterthought as he realized compulsion more or less would be psychic extraction, but he didn't dwell on it too long.

"Most women invite me up to their rooms in much classier ways, you know." It was a subtle hint for an invitation, mostly because he reeeeaaally didn't want to have the awkward invite talk when they were at the top of the stairs. It was ridiculous how uppity some humans could get when they realized their charming companion was an immortal, bloodthirsty vampire. "I promise to resemble nothing remotely close the perfect gentleman."