RP:Curious

From HollowWiki


Summary: Langley and Sabrina cross paths, maybe never to meet again. Introductions are complete, at least, the important one.


Langley was preceeded in his presence by the appearance of crows and ravens, a host of black feathers and ebony beaks that gathered upon rooftops and along sign-posts; ringing out their raspy song into the night air as beady eyes peered down at any who passed down those city streets. It had become a usual sight as of late, barely gaining much more than a passing glance by those who were this city's residents. And there he came, strolling down the stone street quite like he owned the place. Langley did not bother to look where he was going, far too interested in skimming through the stack of papers that he held in one hand. His rose-tinted glasses hid the excitement that glimmered in his eyes as he read through each line, curiously drinking in the knowledge that those old scrolls held in faded ink. There was much written on those pages that Langley already knew but hidden amongst common knowledge and not so secret secrets was the ocassional gem of information that had yet been unknown to him. Despite his seeming distraction though, Langley weaved his way past obstacles with ease as if he had an extra set of eyes doing the work that his primary eyes could not be bothered to perform.

Sabrina walked with determination from the south and veering to the west once she collided with the traffic of questionable characters in the Plaza. She was small, and in this place she knew better than to get too pushy with the locals, else overstay her extended welcome. The last thing she wanted was for words to get back that the mouth-breather Larewen let in under the provision of Daath’s protection was getting all entitled in the Dark City. Nor did she issue apologies for her presence; while most believed she had no place here, she did earn -enough- not to get threatened at every turn. Her company was a slight help, though the hellbeast didn’t abundantly care for their destination to justify parting the bottleneck of citizens gathered at the entrance to the blood bank. She elected to wait in stubborn silence, truly irate over the basic skill of putting one foot in front of the other and move it the hell along. She blended well enough; dark clothes cover her from neck to floor, the palest of flesh exposed above the neckline and a scared visage that easily pointed to a blindness in her right eye. This is where Rohk stood, abreast, so to speak, towering over the elfess as his chin could easily rest atop her head if he wasn’t so hard on being alert. Inch by miserable inch they came closer to the target; the nearest gateway to the Guild HQ. Amidst the standstill she can sense an intrusion upon the thick mass of people, a division, of sorts, and her gaze is cast to the rooftops first to make note of the unusual gathering of all seeing eyes. She rubs a creepy chill through the arms of her sleeves and finally takes the moment to turn towards the parting of the sea of those gathered to barely make out the fine details of a well stitched suit as he meanders by. She slides into his wake, smartly, so she thinks, to seek refuge in his undertow as the blank space is soon filled up behind them. After a particularly mathematical slithering weave she loses the momentum and only gains a few real paces toward her exit. “Damn.” Or something like it is near whispered from her lips from the island tongue and eventually Rohk finds himself beside her once more, with a snicker of justice that she thought she could be so sneaky.

Langley seemed to perk, his head turning upright as something pulled him away from the words that he found so utterly fascinating; the sensation of a presence that was not normally felt during his regular jaunts down these streets. "How curious." he said seemingly to himself in his smooth drawl and for a moment the attention of every nearby black bird appeared to fall upon the elf, their heads twitching this way and that as dark eyes peered inquisitively downward towards her. "I had almost forgot what a living soul looked like. I really should get out more, I suppose." He commented as he turned, those red lenses centering themselves upon the woman to join his birds in their questioning stare. He eyed her up and down, his gaze shifting behind his glasses to trail slowly up her form to the top of her head and then back down again to her feet; those augmented eyes of his studiously analyzing every detail. The color of her soul, the way that her heart beat, the pacing of her breathing. All of it was useful information in its own way, teaching a man the nature of the person that these details belonged to. But what he would do with those details once he had them... well, that was Langley's business. His other hand rose from the pocket it had been tucked away in, a little gout of brilliant green fire erupting from his fingertips. And when those flames soon died out, a little black card was left in their wake with little red letters emblazoned on it that read thus: 'Gerald Lawrence Langley, Purveyor.' He flicked his card towards her, letting it twirl through the air so that she might be able to grab it up. "Whatever your heart desires, ma'am. That's what I sell. Be sure to look me up if you ever find yourself in need of anything," He paused for a moment, tipping his glasses down to reveal those odd serpentine eyes of his. "And I do mean anything." He added before turning to continue on his way...

Sabrina looked back at the man, studying him quite similarly and there was no offense in her eyes. She did not respond to his obviously rhetorical epiphany. And, truth be told she was not aware of being looked at as most women would be. The life thread, should he be so keen, was aligned in rhythm with the protective beast at her side. Her beat was steady and strong, a pillar of perfect health, the pace of her breathing nowhere near exasperated as it should have been, being of the living in a terrible place such as this. She was, without a doubt, calm. Her head rears back at the display of magic, though slightly so as not to give too much away over her aversion to it. The card is left to fall in the turned-up dust between them. She misses his eyes but sensed what she believes is all she needs to know about his kind. She elbows the obsidian scaled hound in the chest, a smirk upon her face. It wasn’t to hurt him, but a gesture of a shared novelty, likely having to do with the pristinely dressed male that was well on his way by now. “Not in the greatest amassment of cycles.” Elvish, yet again, and also not having to do with the apparent situation. The hiss of what could best be described as laughter exits the beasty, creepy as it may have been, it had been some time since she heard him truly enjoy one of their inside jokes. It was enough to force her to hide a smile, directed at her feet. Finally the collection of bodies began to move and soon she was within reach of the arched doorway to -eventually- breathable air. The clean and rather lively scent of the living only turns a few heads, some used to seeing her and others certain there was a reason she was allowed safe passage. But, there was always one idiot too big for his britches and he stood fast to block her path. She would turn to Rohk, naturally, yet the damnable canine elects this a perfect opportunity for her to work this out herself. She gets all huffy for a silent moment and turns back to the ‘gentleman’ who saw fit to stop her. By the smell of him he had been undead for some time, the life energy agreed with that sentiment, and so instead of politely asking him to move she mutters something in a very skewed common. She looked very serious- maybe even comically so. She could repeat herself and encourage the growing balloon of boisterous laughter that was culminating around her, but instead she calmly removes a glove and responds, her voice only slightly above it in that wretched common that was drowning in a sheer feminine tone. “I said.” And through the pivotal break in surrounding noise she reaches out a frail and equally pale appendage to wrap thin digits around his wrist. “Have you ever considered the pain of living?” While she most certainly found herself wanting in the version where she would threaten death, she held no issue in ushering a ‘symbolic’ wave of life through the tissues under her neatly manicured grip. The man crumples, lightly, his laughing mouth stretched open to look down upon her sweetly smiling face. She stands a little taller. “Move, or I will move you.” One foot sidesteps the other and he is guided out of her immediate path. “Thank you, Sir.” She replies, before stepping through the threshold at long last. As Rohk follows her in, two taps to the chest with razored tails sends a message of ‘Next time