RP:Hunting the Hunters
Part of the Vakmatharas' Jar Arc
Summary: Daermon waits around to find the people responsible for hunting Brennia and they get answers from him, but at what cost?
Vailkrin City Road
Hemlock Way has broadened to become a wide City Road carrying locals, travellers and merchants through its bustling thoroughfare. The general air is one of cautious calm, probably due to staunch City Guard patrols being particularly present here, ensuring that visitors and locals alike can stroll the dimly-lit blackstone streets under the glow of streetlamps and the silvery moon relatively unmolested. To the north is a well-fitted shop, its sign suggesting supplies fit for necromancy and other dark magics. A short southern street leads to the entrance of Vailkrin's most stylish -and notorious- tavern.
Daermon had been politely informed by Steadman he wasn’t welcome, for a time, in the tavern. He admitted that he should have perhaps taken his business out, but the vampire was seldomly clear headed about Brennia, let alone involving danger. His madness was showing in the blood lust that was more common than it had been. So instead, he was dressed as a beggar, sitting outside the tavern, listening with his supernatural hearing and looking for men who smelled similar to the first. If they met up, there should be mixing smells. The man with the winged eye tattoo had only been the most recent he’d seen around Bren and he was growing curious as to why.
A man and a woman wearing cloaks with hoods stop outside the tavern before glancing around, the man asks, “you sure he said the target would be here?” The woman gives an exasperated sigh before glancing to Daermon on the ground and reminding the man with her in a near hiss, “you’d better watch your mouth.” She places some bread near the homeless looking man in attempts to distract him, look the other way and pretend you can’t hear this buffoon. “Why can’t we jus kill her? She’d make a good show for sacrifice night,” the woman turns back to the man lowering her tone in attempts that this total nitwit will take a hint, “no, because she has too many people surrounding her. It would make her a martyr and people would pity her. We are only to discredit her until Verm-“ a glance around, “he is Senator… Then we could kill her.” The guy nods with a perverse chuckle, “you think we could do stuff to her when the time comes to kidnap her?” The woman rolls her eyes just as she picks up the sound of singing in the distance, towards the forest. “Show is starting, let’s not be late this time,” they start to move away from the tavern towards the twisted trees where the ghosts play out the sacrifice for the jar. “What happened to Jim and Carl?” The man mused out loud as if trying to make pointless small talk and he gets a short, cool response, “if were weren’t late we would know!”
Twisted Trees
Here the trees are twisted and petrified in agony. Like a haunting horrific nightmare they almost seem to twist and move like serpents. At close examination you can see sick disfigured carved faces pressed into the surface of the trees, blood trickling down the eyes and mouth. As you glance down, you notice that spider webs also inhabit this area. The only way is back to your west. Are you moving in circles somehow?
Daermon could act fairly well for someone with no formal training. He reached out a shaky hand, taking the bread and turning away as though heeding the hooded woman. As if his hearing wasn’t fantastic and he could hear them easily. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were talking about. They were clearly looking for Bren. He let’s them get a little ways away, then rises to his feet and vanishes into the shadows, following from a distance and still listening. The more he could find, the better after all. More likely for one to survive the meeting for questioning.
The hooded figures arrive near the clearing in the forest before coming to a halt in order to try and hide within the trees to wait and watch. A few moments go by before the male, who is apparently not bright outright asks without attempts to whisper, “where is the bitch? Ow!” He exclaimed when the other stepped onto his foot before whispering, “will you shut up? You know them avians have good hearing.” They both spread out at the hooded women’s direction and not long after the buffoon exclaimed, “ey! I found somethin’!” The hooded woman grumbles to herself something along the lines of ‘this idiot is going to get me killed.’ Once she maneuvers her way over to him she takes in the fact he is holding a bow that he did not have before and then it hits her, “that’s Jim’s,” she gasps out in a whisper. That’s Raven though, always sloppy.
Daermon followed in their wake, using the darkness to move and blend easily. He wouldn’t have been able to do this had he still be starving, but having several meals under his belt meant that he was quickly returning to form and power. He did briefly wish he’d gone and dug up his gear though, as he felt strange not having his sword. Not that he really needed it. It was just cleaner than using his hands. He wanted one of them alive, both if possible, and he wanted answers immediately rather than having to wait after their little drug. If he could figure out which pocket it was in, he could smash it as he took one down...For now though, he bided his time, listening, hidden behind a thick tree. Were they expecting Brennia to be here? And why? Was she so habitual that they knew when she was going to be here on schedule? Or was it something more sinister, like someone close to her reporting to them of her coming and goings?
The hooded woman takes out a vial from under her cloak and hands it to the other guy, “give me that and take this.” The guy looks confused and then angry, “you’re going to leave me out here!?” The woman is whispering for him to shut up again, “will you shut up??” And thawps him on the head, “you seem to lose your failsafe all the time. I’m taking the bow back to Mister Dr-“ she glances around, “him and you’re going to go back to the Hanging Corpse and see if she’s there.” The dimwit hooded one checks his pockets, sure enough he forgot his own. “Why can’t I take it back?” The hooded woman sighs before turning away from the dumb one to begin walking back to their headquarters and the other guy lazily starts to make his way back to the Corpse.
Daermon waited just long enough for the woman’s weak hearing to be out of range, then moved along behind the man. An old assassins trick of stepping as your prey does keeps the man from noticing another set of footsteps tailing, and Daer was quick to notice he had his failsafe still in his hand. Good thing he was fast. In one smooth motion, the vampire grabbed the vial, well, grabbed the hand, holding the vial, and squeezed until both broke, the hand shattering under the pressure as the vial did likewise, piercing the man’s hand with shards of glass while breaking bones. His other hand whipped up to grab the man's throat, silencing the scream that had begun. He squeeze, the man’s eyes rolling back, his face turning blue, and the vampire realized he was getting carried away. He released the throat, hearing the man’s heart still. He’d choked him out. Well, that presented a new opportunity. He scooped him up and left, taking him back towards house Dragana and his campsite. He opened the bond to his bird. ‘Bren. I’ve captured one of the men from the group that hunts you. I intend to question him when he wakes from the little nap I gave him. Would you like to be here to ask your own questions?’ he offers, not knowing if she was busy or not.
The man was terrified and went to scream for his companion of the night, but soon he was catching a snooze thanks to his chokey new friend. Once he opened the bond to Brennia he would find a strong haze and she thought, ‘Euh, quoi? qui est-ce? Tu parles bien.’ This means she would probably be useless at the moment, but she was entirely alone. Has been for a two weeks now. Would he risk taking this guy through the shadow plane to her? Does he have enough time to pay her a visit and then come back? Maybe he could just handle this himself if he doesn’t want to risk intruding her or seeing her. Either way, he might need a few seconds to get his thoughts together through the dense fog in her mind. She was not in a good way.
Daermon had to pause, catching his breath and his thoughts for a moment with the heavy haze to him. It took a moment, but he managed to settle his thoughts enough to speak. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks as he goes about tying up his prisoner so that if the man woke and he was distracted, he wouldn’t be able to hobble away. He then tied a rag around the man's mouth as well. No sense in letting him scream and carry on if he did wake.
Brennia would not be understandable in her state whenever she uses this type of herb. He’d hear a small fit of giggling before, ‘Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas? et maintenant j'ai des voix dans ma tête.’ A bit more giggling before he might be able to smell the type of herb she was using. It was the one she had used to keep Inky(Raven) at bay, but this time it wasn’t because of her. They probably haven’t talked much since their last night together, but she’s felt guilty ever since atop of rejection. Meanwhile the guy starts to stir just slightly to find himself tied up and muffled screams ensue. Eyes wide in terror as he tries to roll away from Daermon, maybe he could roll away or something?
Daermon had to work twice as hard to process her jumbled thoughts and emotions. He could get the sense of her words, if not the actual words themselves. Guilt? Rejection? He understood the first a hair, but not the second. Why would she feel rejected? He caught the boot of the man, growling. “Shut the hell up. Your wailing is giving me a headache. You might get to live if you don’t piss me off too much.” he snarls, eyes glowing blue in the low light. That was a lie. This man was not going to make it thru this. ‘Did something happen?’ he asks Brennia, concern flooding the bond. She’d seemed well enough when they’d last parted. Things seemed even a little good.
Brennia was probably unresponsive at that moment, just a little too gone and he’d probably only hear a shadow of a giggle from her side of things. The man was squirming even more under the boot in panic while Brennia seemed to fade away. The cloaked guy at the winged eye symbol on his neck and his eyes started to water in the fear, he knew he shouldn’t have taken this job. His hands flatten together as if praying and begging while he tries to mumble out, ‘please don’t kill me I’ll tell you anything you need to know.’ Could Daermon actually be in two places at once?
Daermon growled as the connection was lost with Brennia. Concern filled him. “Illyane, I have need of you.” he calls and the crow flies down to join him, changing into the voluptuous form of the dark elf that Bren had seen a few times. “I gathered.” she says, smirking. “Go to your bird love. I’ll watch this one.” she leaned close, “I’ll see if I can get anything out while you’re gone.” she says, kissing his cheek. Daer nodded his thanks and pulled his power, following where he’d felt to Brennia, unsure if she was alone or not, and not caring. He was too worried for her.
Brennia would be found on this night in the sands of her balcony, still dressed in her usual solar precautionary wear grinning as her bloodshot eyes slowly closed. She was alone, like she had been for the last week and the dim lights of the balcony play shadows on her caramel skin. Long tattooed fingers were playing in her own hair and here or there she was giggling softly to herself. The air was heavy with the smell of her herbs and the desk within her room beyond the door to the balcony had a pile of papers on it. A sort of dream state brings a mumble of, “nuh, I’hmm too busyy…”
Daermon had always, always hated seeing her like this. It made the vibrant woman...less. He stepped out of the shadows in her room, quickly scanning and sniffing for anyone. She was alone. And the scents at work told him she had been for...about two weeks? Possibly longer, he wondered...why? As far as he knew, Wisax lived with her. Regardless, he stepped out to the balcony, booted feet not making any noise as he stood in the doorway. “Bren?” he asks hesitantly, gently. Maybe his presence would sober her enough to at least answer some questions. Maybe not.
Brennia’s bloodshot deep blue eyes open and when she sees Daermon she slowly smiles before sitting up. While bringing herself to stand she was looking at him in a certain way, as if he had no clothes on or she could see right through them. This time, not sure if it’s his proximity or her ability to see him, but this time he would hear what she means to say at the same time as she speaks. “Mon vampire, mon coeur.” ‘My vampire, my heart.’ A few long strides and she was wrapping her arms around his shoulders in an embrace and sort of supporting herself, she would be a very warm reprieve to the cool night air and his cold dead skin. “Je gâche tout en demandant trop.” ‘I ruin everything by asking too much.’ A soft sigh as she rests her head into the curve where his neck meets shoulder, “tu mérites mieux que moi.” ‘You deserve much better than me.’ Every syllable flows together beautifully upon her sultry alto timbre.
Daermon found her stare oddly sweet, yet...unnerving at the same time. His own arms lifted to embrace her as well, for really, what else would he do? “You do no such thing…” Did it make any sense to be arguing with a stoned person? Likely not. But hell, it had been an odd night. “Tell me, if you can, why have you been alone the last week? Why are you smoking again?” he’d thought she’d given the stuff up. His hand was cool, the temperature of the room as it pressed to her cheek, those glacial hues finding her own blues. “Oh...I don’t know. I’d say we make a pretty complete person between the two of us.” he teased softly, though there was a bit of truth to it.
Brennia’s gaze wandered on his features and then he reminds her she’s been alone…. She’s been smoking and then he might notice just how bloodshot her eyes are. She hasn’t even been sleeping properly. Realizations make her sober up and she’s able to just focus on her thoughts… ‘I’m too proud to say. So I am glad I cannot speak.’ Slowly her arms dropped from around him and curved around herself as if she needed her own comfort more in the moment, ‘I asked Vi to stay with me and I haven’t seen him two weeks since.’ She looks away and he could feel she wasn’t hurt like when he left her himself, nor was she angry… Just confused and feeling rejected. ‘I asked too much again and of you, too.’ Her eyes found him once more and one of her hands extended to softly hold his cheek. ‘You deserve someone who doesn’t want you as some dirty little secret’
Daermon let her go. It was all he could do. He wouldn’t force her to stay in his embrace. As she shared her pain, he nodded slowly. “Then he treads the same mistaken path I did. I never should have left. But I’m here now...and you already know where I sit on the secret part. I told you Bren...If I have to be a secret to have some of your valuable time, then that’s what I’ll do. I don’t want to lose you again. But it must be your choice. I won’t force my presence on you.” he says, thinking that she had rethought what they’d spoken of last. “I gave you some space after last time, thinking...hoping you’d reach out to me. I’ve been tracking your mysterious friends comings and goings. Even captured one tonight. I think he’ll talk. Not that he has much say in the matter.” he says, leaning against the hand that cupped his cheek, eyes still blazing as they looked into hers. “Am I wasting my time?” he asks softly. “Not with pursuing those who hunt you. I’d do that regardless, but in being here? Do you even want me here?” he asks. She was nothing if not giving mixed signals. One meeting a kiss, the next closed off.
Brennia looks a little surprised at his hope she would reach out, ‘really?’ She didn’t even think about it, ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy. I only smoked tonight so I could sleep again.’ Her hand nestled up into the nape of his short hair and the other hand joined, “je t'aime, Daermon.” ‘I love you, Daermon.’ And the subtle shaking of her head, ‘I don’t want you to waste your time waiting around for me to have a free moment.’ A nervous undertone to her current feelings rise between them in their bond, ‘now I fear you’ll bore of me.’ She would gently try and get his head to tilt down so their foreheads could rest against each other. When she considers the victim he has on his hands at the moment a different feeling is shared, rage and anger. She’s stuck inside her home because of what’s been happening and her students could be a potential target… and then… Trust which is something she hasn’t had in him in some time, “leur donner l'enfer.” ‘give them hell.’
Daermon allowed her to draw his head down to hers and he returned the soft words. “I love you too. I don’t want to waste my time either. So I will have to come steal some of yours more often.” he says, letting another smile split his face. “Why would I bore of you?” he asks, surprise lifting his face to hers again. “Because you work now? Because you are more grounded? I have loved you far too long to get bored. Boring is sometimes nice. And it encourages us to find ways to make it not boring.” he grinned wickedly. He leaned forward, stealing a kiss from her soft lips, then moving back, but still close, whispering against her lips. “Why not come question him with me? You ask the questions, I help provide the answers.” he says, tracing her lips with a claw tip as though to emphasize how he would get those answers.
Brennia’s heart beat wildly. He knows just how to appeal to her own darker side and when he traces her lip her tongue slipped out to join it, ‘take me.’ She’d means through the shadow plane to go torture this guy together and she clings to him, wings folding about the both of them making herself ready to be taken away from this place seeing as she doesn’t leave the castle anymore. She takes in the scent of old leather and him which made those plump lips turn up into a smile when her forehead buried into his neck. Doing so brought his own bite mark on her neck right where his mouth is as a memorandum to their proper reunion.
Daermon growled as she pressed to him. “Somehow I don’t think you are talking about the fun kind of taking you.” he teased, nuzzling against her ear before laughing softly and pulling his power around them. They slipped thru the shadows, faces nestled in the hollow of throats, arms wrapped around each other, and in her case, wings as well. They stepped out in his camp site, Illyane still watching over his prisoner, though she smiled at the appearance and rose to her feet. She’d been crouched beside the man, hand on his face as she’d tried to get any info she could. “He says he’ll talk as long as we promise to let him live.” she says softly, smiling. “Brennia, good to see you.” she purrs for the avian.
Brennia quirks her brow at Illyane, Veretian slipping out, “content de te voir. Merci de regarder notre vampire.” Liberty blues taking their liberty of looking up the woman’s figure and then back down again, but eventually tore them away to the man at hand, ‘ask him about information on the Flewminati’s golden boy. Primary Brother Draft.’ She smirks victoriously at the bit of information Raven was able to get for her. Since Raven discovered where she came from and put her under lock she hasn’t been all bad… Mostly. She did save Sidd from attackers though so there’s that.
Daermon | Illyane looked at the avian, then spoke, “Bien sur. Je l’aime autant que toi.” Roughly, of course, I love him as much as you do. Where the shadow being had picked up Veretian was a mystery to the vampire for sure, but then, he simply nodded and moved on. Flexible mind and what not. He moved before the captive man, he began to squirm a bit. Daer smiled, one that did not reach his cold eyes. “Yes, I know, I’m not nearly as easy on the eyes as Illyane. I mean, that rack, the butt, those sultry lips. Yeah, I get it. But the faster you tell me what I want to know, the faster you get to leave. Hell, I’ll even let her untie you, I’m sure it’d give a great glimpse down her shirt.” he whispers, conspiratorially, like he would to a friend. “Tell me about Primary Brother Draft.” he says, meeting the terrified gaze with his inhuman one.
Brennia smirked down at the captive and Daermon as the man was terrified that such information was out. When he saw Brennia he sort of panics as he recognized this was the target and he’s just some rat caught in a trap, but seeing as he just joined the Flewminati a month ago his loyalty is not a strong as his will to live, “I don’t know! The man is a creep. His hotel is full of creepy torture rooms and hidden passageways between rooms. He has some sick fetishes and he keeps his wife stowed away somewhere I heard someone say. He’s been a leader of the Flewminati for the past hundred years, but now he wants the Senate seat and for some reason he wants to eliminate you as a threat.” Brennia nods along, ‘okay… ask him why the Chamber of Raan are even recognizing me as a potential senator.’
Daermon nodded again to Brennia as the man spoke. Much of what they had to say meant nothing to him, as he didn’t know the politics or the situation as they did. But his birdie was involved, so therefore, he was as well. “Why does the Chamber of Raan recognize Brennia as a potential senator?” he asks, eyes flicking to Illyane, who had moved to the side to watch.
Brennia shifts through her thoughts as the words Illyane started to nag at her in the back of her mind. The question was asked and the man was shaking his head, “I don’t know! I don’t know, because she’s proven herself as a leader to be able to create her own establishment and gathered such a following. Citizens still adore her no matter what he has put in the papers.” He glances to Brennia, “just look at her… She’s also charismatic.” He’s testing his luck by hitting on her and then further by his next words, “obviously you’re aware or you wouldn’t be here.” Brennia sighs, ‘I think we’re done here.’
Daermon once more nodded. “Well, looks like we’re all wrapped up. You’re free to go.” he says, rising and moving around behind the man. Illyane came over, tenderly caressing the man’s face as she leaned forward and began to untie him, everything seemingly quite fine and without them having to get messy to interrogate him. He never saw, or felt a thing as Daer’s scalpel like claws severed his head from his shoulders in a single vicious swing. Illyane stepped back before the blood blossomed, coating the vampire, who clearly didn’t care, or he would have moved as well. “I hate to do it to you love, but can you handle clean up?” he asks the visage of a dark elf. She nods, going to use the same trick of letting the shadows swallow up the body, taking it to who knew where. Daermon turned back to Brennia. “Ready to go home?” he asks, dripping slightly with the blood of the now very dead Flewminati member. A better death than one as he could have hoped for, quick and painless and staring down Illyane’s impressive cleavage.
Brennia watched with a smirk and it slowly dwindled when he was calling Illyane love and then he asked if she wanted to go home. She takes a palm sized compact from between her wings which has a mirror within and the feeling a disappointment overcomes her. Seems the device is some sort of messaging system, it was like checking your phone and finding no missed calls or messages. She gives him a soft smile and nods once before embracing him as she did before, but possibly not as tight as she was now free to let her mind wonder. Let doubt fill her up. Feeling compared once again.
Daermon slipped his arms around her, as heedless of the blood that now was getting on her as he had been to it getting on him. His madness was glinting brightly in his gaze. Before, he would not have lied to a man like that. Now though...now he was not quite the same man. He left Illyane to her work, though, she was never actually gone from him, as she was a part deeper than even his vampirism. As he and Bren stepped from the shadows back in her room, he could feel, see it on her face. “What is it?” he asks, concerned again. “Were those not the answers you sought?” he asks, giving her a chance to open to him. They were alone. It would be safe to do so, even if they were both smeared with blood.
Brennia walked away from him and over to the large stained glass doors that lead into her room from the balcony. ‘I’ve been attacked here. Now I learn this and understand fully that if I want to keep my college and my students safety… I have to expose all of this. And then I have to take myself before the senate and expose Vermillion to the citizens. I need proof.’ She let her wings fold close to herself for comfort as anxiety sickened in her stomach, but sobered her up, “and I cannot worry on little things like a boyfriend rejecting my offer to move in with me… and I cannot worry about being enough for you and your only because… Tonight just proved that can never be.” She had her hand on the door handle trying to force herself to just open the door and go back inside, but she can’t. She doesn’t even know what she expects him to say.
Daermon stood stunned as he ran the gamut of emotions. Fear for her, anger at her being attacked, jealousy that she’d asked Wisax to move in with her, then confusion at her words. “What do you mean that tonight proved that can never be?” he asks, so very softly as he dripped blood onto the sands, his hands clenched into fists at his side.
Brennia reached into the hidden spot between her wings once more to pull free that palm sized golden compact and turning toward him. “I haven’t gotten a response from him on this since two Fridays ago when I asked him to help me at the town meeting because I was nervous. Before that I asked him to stay with me at the castle, that’s what I meant when I said before that I ask too much.” And she felt just as jealous when she brings up, “and you with Barnabus- I mean Illyane.” Her shoulders rise up in uncertainty when her arms skin around her own waist as if that will make herself feel better and her voice became a weak whisper, “that’s not anything I can compete against and definitely nothing you can choose.” She’s not stupid enough to even entertain the idea, but she carelessly tosses the palm sized pendant off to the side and in sinks a little into the sand.
Daer was very still as she spoke. “Yes, Illyane and I were lovers. It happened during my absence. Twenty years is a long time, and I eventually gave in. That being said, she understood that my heart belonged to another. And since coming back we haven’t…” he didn’t elaborate any further, his mouth snapping closed. For a moment, he simply studied her, as though seeing her for the first time. “I might be the one more responsible for us ending, but you are the one keeping us apart. I see that now.” he says softly, closing the distance and taking her hands in his own. “You need to decide what you want. I told you that I would be your secret, your lover, or your mate. But you must be the one to make that choice.” he says, looking into those liberty blue hues with his own glacial. “I love you. But from one meeting to the next, you seem to waver and change your mind.” he gave a soft, sad little smile, the madness gone from his eyes. “I hope you get what you want Bren. I hope I’m included in that. But I begin to fear I’m not. For if you truly loved me as you say...you wouldn’t be so broken about not hearing from Wisax.” he says softly, releasing her hands gently and taking a step away. He walked to where she’d thrown her pendant and pulled it from the sand, setting it instead on the table. “I’m glad I was able to help, even a little with those who have been hurting you.” he says. “I should go though, let you plan your next move in peace without my...distraction.”
Brennia sighs, “you’re missing the point. You don’t see it’s happening all over again. I ask for more and get shot down, it’s just not in the stars.” There were tears rimming her eyelids again, “someone who has been attached to you for so long. Has been wanting you in a way that I’ve known you and loves you, but to boot she can shapeshift her body to anything you could desire… As I said. Where do I stack up? Where am I supposed to fit?” She puts up her hands like she’s given up and shakes her head, “I cannot even ask because there is no competition and ultimately there is no choice.” Her heart actually hurts once more and her guts flip over again and again, “I won’t even try to.” This was what she feared in the beginning and how she felt. Always having to compete with other women for him and just plain not feeling good enough. She went to the small bar on the balcony to try and find the herbs she had before and blinking tears away.
Daermon was quiet for a moment, then spoke, his voice carrying the weight of his words. “No, it’s you who misses the point. The point where Illyane doesn’t matter. She’s a creature from another plane of existence. She doesn’t view the world as we do. There is no competition, there is nothing but you in my heart. But you can’t see it. Or won’t. And I won’t feel bad for you being shot down by Wisax. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous as you told me of it, or him, or any of it. So no Bren, you are the one choosing this path. If you won’t try, then I’m wasting my time trying to convince you.” he says, still softly, yet, it was painfully loud to himself. “I can’t force you to love me, or see reason. I can’t force you to be with me...and I wouldn’t if I could. So if you’re not going to try...neither am I. I’ll always love you...but I can’t pursue you if you refuse to be pursued.” It was tearing his heart out to say it. “I wish I could make you see. But you are determined that you aren’t good enough. I can’t fix that. You are good enough. Hell, better than enough for such as me. But...I guess that doesn’t matter.” he says, moving back inside, moving away from her. He couldn’t stand to be close. Her choices were pushing him away and she didn’t even see it. “Goodnight Bren.” he says, and it sounds like goodbye.