World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - Back In Town [FIN]

[Owns-The-Night]

Jan 7th, 2009

The first few days went past quickly. He cleaned his house, restocked his food supplies, and touched base with some of his old friends online. Farquad was his usual surly self when Declan let him know he was back, and over the last couple of days it was almost as though he hadn't left at all.

Almost.

Night time patrols were a little more active. In his absence, various vermin had crept back onto the campus grounds. Drug dealers were the most obvious of these. A couple of scares, and Owns-The-Night was confident that they'd start getting the message to peddle their poisons elsewhere. He made an exception for anyone he found with Crimson, however...

* * * * * * *

Around 10 pm

The dealer cast a frightened look back over his shoulder, unable to penetrate the gloom under the trees to the side of the path he ran headlong down. "Omigodwhatthefuck?!" he panted, the adrenaline of fear keeping his feet moving. He stopped in a well-lit area, a crossing of several paths, and pulled his Glock out, whirling to look back the way he had come.

Nothing moved under the trees but John Quesada, 'Johnny Q" to his buddies, wasn't reassured. He had seen the beast emerge from the darkness while he had been waiting to do business with three dropper bottles of the Red Stuff in his pocket, and had first thought it to be someone's dog, or maybe a stray, sniffing around for scraps or whatever the fuck dogs thought was important. Then it had lifted it's shaggy head and looked at him, and the dealer realised that there was something intent behind those weird silver eyes. The dog wasn't nosing around randomly - it had been tracking him. Then the dog started growling and stalking towards him, and Johnny Q decided to fuck this shit and do the deal some other night. Or day. In a bar or something. Where there weren't silver-eyed mutts with too many teeth waiting for him. He got to his feet and ran like hell.

Now he tried to quiet his breathing and waited, gun in hand. He was angry at his reaction. For fuck's sake, it was just a dog. He had a gun! If the pooch was on his trail, he'd pop a cap in it and claim self-defense if anyone asked. The gun was a reassuring weight in his hand.

All was quiet. The wind rustled through the branches, making Johnny nervous as he imagined gleaming eyes behind every shifting shadow. A rustle came from his left and he whirled, bringing the Glock up.

It burst from the bushes a snarling fury, and Johnny screamed, or tried to. The dog was bigger, a figure cut from primordial nightmare, and it's snarl froze the blood in his veins and stole the breath from his lungs. The silver eyes danced with golden flame, and the damn thing's jaws were bigger than his head. The paralysis lasted a long moment, then instinct overruled the mind. The monkey hind-brain knew exactly what to do.

Gun forgotten, falling unheeded from his hand in his panic, the frightened animal that was Johnny Q dashed headlong away from the beast. He heard it behind him, it's rasping growl like thunder as it loped after him. He didn't need to look, didn't even think to. Truth be told, he wasn't thinking at all. The monkey-brain could feel the hot breath of a predator on it's neck, it's every thought consumed with the need to avoid those terrible slavering fangs. So intent on flight was he that he didn't even regard the moving lights ahead as a cause for caution.

Until it was too late.

Owns-The-Night stopped under cover of the trees, shifting down to Urhan, and watched satisfied as the panic-stricken man plunged into the heavy night-time traffic on Hilgard Avenue. A large Dodge van swerved, trying to avoid him, but fear drove him straight into the path of the heavy fender. A screech of brakes came too late, and the thud of a body hitting the floor was sweet music to the Uratha's ears.

Smooth. Declan told himself. He probably didn't survive that, and even if he did, the Crimson in his pocket will prove of more interest to the cops than Lunacy-tinged stories. With a short *whuff* of contentment and a flick of his tail, the werewolf turned and trotted away from the road.

* * * * * * *

Just past Midnight

He stepped out of the shadows near the dormitory and looked up at the window. No lights were on, no music blared. Moving slowly, he stepped into the pool of light nearby and kept his argent gaze on the small portal of glass.

Was she there? He couldn't tell. His time of solitude and soul-searching had come suddenly, a need that had gripped him. He had looked for her before leaving, to explain and perhaps (he wasn't sure if she would) to invite her to come with him. In retrospect, he was glad he hadn't asked that: the cabin had been in terrible disrepair. There would have been no shelter for a city-reared woman with no ability to grow fur.

But he did regret not speaking to her before he left. He had thought of Morgan often through the winter. Sometimes whimsically, imagining her trudging through the snow, wondering if she would find this place, his place, beautiful or interesting. Some of his thoughts had been carnal, missing her nearness, the scent and sound and sight of her. But mostly he just plain missed the confusing, complicated, sometimes contradictory Enchantress who wore a scar that was Luna's mark.

Seeing nothing, yet hoping that his silent visit had not been in vain, the large dark-furred wolf turned and trotted out of the circle of light and into the shadows.

It was time to see what else the night would bring.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Despite the ongoing efforts with her tests, Sarah Dead-Wolf was back near her home ground tonight. The duties of patrol and needs of feeding taken care of, she had loped off in a familiar if long-overdue direction, a strange lupine smile on her muzzle. It wasn't far to Declan's house.

He wasn't there. That much was immediately clear, just by scent. She could pick up that unique, spicy, musky tinge that was her werewolf friend, the smell she had once described as "the scent of a leader", and it led off across Hilgard into the darkened campus of an off-semester UCLA. This was his territory, marked as such in no uncertain terms. But he'd also given Sarah clear running there; the undead wolf hesitated only long enough for traffic to clear before dashing off into deepest academia following the trail.

[Owns-The-Night]

The wind brought it to him first, a faint scent. Too faint, really. It smelled of earth and blood. Vampire! Coming this way too.

The realisation didn't trigger immediate aggression in the Rahu, though. He knew too many vampires to assume that the scent of one meant trouble. Could be Adrian, or Sarah. Maybe even Vienne. Too far away to tell the difference right now. Damn vampires all smell the same from more than fifty paces. Let's wait and see. The werewolf padded to a dark thicket and lay down in it's shadow, waiting. If whoever it was was looking for trouble, they'd sure as hell find it.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

The Dead Wolf could sense her quarry drawing closer: the scent grew stronger, confined as it was by the surrounding campus buildings. But there was no fear in her stride as she broke into a run forward, yipping out wolf-speak as she did. friend-alpha? dead-omega-here! Had she thought for a moment, the foolishness of such trust might had dawned on Sarah. But at the moment, she was just too happy to be within scent - and now sight, as she saw eyes in the shadows - of Declan once more.

[Owns-The-Night]

friend-dead-omega! His own reply was a low grumbling sound, a not-quite-growl that was totally distinct from the sound of menace... to wolves anyway. He was, after all, an alpha by nature, and alpha's seldom yipped or made other 'puppy' noises, save perhaps when with their mates or young. He lunged from the shadows as she approached, eyes bright and head high, and playfully sideswiped her shoulder to shoulder as a mock-prelude to attack. Playful and glancing though it might have been, the alpha had gotten bigger in his Urhan shape, the extra muscle mass from months of hard living boosting the deep-chested wolf to a healthy 172 lbs. Sarah was quick enough on her paws not to be bowled over, however, and Owns-The-Night paced around her as she turned towards him, his jaws relaxed in a wolfen grin.

friend-dead-omega well? Hunt-good-prey-clean?

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

This was a first for Sarah, something she'd dreamed about for most of her life. While she'd run as a wolf for the past two months and more, she hadn't had the chance to really play as one... until now.

Rolling around on the nighttime lawn of UCLA with a twelve-stone wolf, Sarah was as happy as she'd ever been.

As Declan came up and around her in full Alpha glory, the Dead Wolf assumed a properly submissive stance - body lowered, ears back, tail tucked. It came almost naturally to her at this point, as often as she'd made human-equivalent guestures in her life.

well yes. good-prey, good-hunt. friend-alpha-well?

[Owns-The-Night]

well-yes. long-run-in-woods. good-game. good-mind Owns-The-Night sat back on his haunches, relaxing and sending Sarah the cue to do the same. come-back-to-old-range. pack-need. mate-need. not-cub. He cast around a little, then *whuffed* at her and rose. come-den. try-keep-pace, slowfoot!

With that invitation and the grinned challenge, the alpha planted his feet and dashed off through the wooded campus, tail streaming out behind him as he led the way back to his house.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

There really was no contest. Had the run been over the course of a long night, it was possible that Sarah could have outpaced the larger wolf by simple dint of undead endurance. But over the relatively short dash across campus to the small, tidy house across Hilgard, even pouring a bit of vitae into her muscles wasn't quite enough to entirely keep pace. By the time she was over the hedge into his backyard, the werewolf was already standing on his back porch, changing form as she closed the last few yards to sit dutifully at his feet until the man chuckled and opened the door.

Once inside the kitchen, Sarah went through her own metamorphosis. It was subtly different than that for her friend; in ways, it was a smoother transition, an almost liquid change as rugged denim re-emerged around a frame that once more became the lean woman Declan had first seen by one of his border markings back in the heat of the L.A. summer. There was no hint of anything other than wolf and human; in contrast, his own change had shown glimpses, traces of something far larger and altogether more primal. As she finished changing, he already had the 'fridge open, plucking a carton of juice from the shelf and an oversized glass from the counter.

With a grin that would have been goofy had Declan not some ken of the cause, the vampire said, "OK, you're faster, but that's fine. That was the most fun I've had in...." Her voice trailed off, and the smile faded a bit before she said, quieter and a little surprised, "...ever."

[Owns-The-Night]

"Yeah. That's one thing I learned during my vacation. This shit doesn't have to be doom, gloom, and duty 24-7. Sometimes it gets to be fun too." He grinned at Sarah in the gloom of the kitchen as he filled his glass. If anything, he seemed less conscious about being naked than before. The silver-branded glyph was dark against the tanned skin of his chest in the faint light from the kitchen window as Declan leaned against the counter, half-emptying the glass in two long swallows. Lowering the glass, he sighed contentedly and continued.

"I had to spend some time graspin' that idea. Wolves play all the damn time, but I was spending so much time glowerin' and feelin' angry that I missed the fuckin' obvious." He shugged his powerful shoulders. "Anyhow, I'm back in town and ready to take life by the throat... meta- metaphustic- not necessarily literally." He grimaced as he wrestled with the word. Too long speakin' nothin' but wolf...

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Well, it's good to have you back, Dec," Sarah said with no small amount of sincerity. "Heck, maybe that's what I need: a wolf retreat. Well, assuming that they wouldn't hunt and kill me... which is a pretty large assumption." Her grin went wry at that, seemingly in something approaching acceptance of the situation.

"By the way, hope you didn't take offense at the alpha/omega yips I used. Didn't mean it as a formal pack thing; there's just sort of a limit on good identifiers in wolf-speak."

[Owns-The-Night]

"Don't sweat it." Declan shrugged as he scooped a pair of sweatpants from the table and pulled them on. "I got the gist readily enough. Just announce yourself as 'dead-friend' in future: unless we actually pack up, you don't owe me subservience, girl." He laid a hand on Sarah's shoulder briefly, then picked up his glass again.

"So, what's been happening in my absence? You still necking with Kapitan Underwear?" His grin was mischievous as the uratha led the way into his lounge.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Despite everything - including lack of a pulse - Sarah managed to blush. "It's... complicated. And less than ideal for both of us. But there's a relationship of sorts there, and we're both trying.

"As for the local scene," she said in a hurried effort to switch topics, "pretty much what I've mentioned to you in chat. A pack called the Death Weavers of L.A. was killed off by what was described as humans with magic. Ariel and I went to the Shadow and talked to the totem - well, Ariel talked while I growled at invading spirits - and I think Ariel's helping out down there as she can, but it's not good. The locus isn't defended by an active pack, and without one the... well, sort of clothweaving-related spirits there are eventually going to fall. But that's one of those things where there's literally nothing I can do unless I get someone to drag me across to the Shadow on a regular basis - where I lose my clothes, by the way."

She sighed as she perched on the edge of Declan's sofa, still uncomfortable with that situation. She had what she needed from the little encounter in the Death Weavers' former territory - Weave's name - but still didn't feel right about leaving the bedraggled spirit-allies there effectively on their own. But she'd been over it in her head a number of times in the weeks since, and the answer was simple: she had to focus on what she could do. Which currently included to trying to find out more about the Black Meanies by way of Scott... if he ever reappeared and wasn't actually hooked up with the hunters.

"And there was that hunter hit," Sarah added, bringing those concerns to light. "Me, Ariel and this new guy - Scott - right in the heart of my territory. That was a mess, it frankly hurt a lot," - she left out mention of it leaving a fist-sized hole in her chest for a half-minute or so - "and I haven't heard from Scott since. I don't want to think that one of the People would work with hunters, but... damn, it all seemed a little convenient."

Legs swinging idlely above the tile floor, she sighed again. "That's pretty much the meat of it. Not great news, but yeah. I'm still working on my first test - still trying to find out anything useful about the Black Meanies' alpha and totem - and, well, running my wolfy ass off. And of course welcoming a friend back home," she added with a renewed grin.

[Owns-The-Night]

He plunked down onto the couch, taking another swig from his glass as he mulled over Sarah's words. "We need to find out about any other mages in the area. Only ones I know are Morgan and Hunt. Odds are we can strike them from the list of suspects involved in slaughtering a whole pack of uratha. They might be able to help us find those responsible though." He shrugged. "Maybe. But we do need to see what we can do about that spirit. I'm not for letting a totem die. Maybe we can.. I dunno, move it somewhere? Like Amber's place? I know fuck all about how or even if that can be done, though."

"The strange fuzzy showin' up and then a hunter attack right on his heels makes me fuckin' suspicious." Declan frowned. "I hate coincidence as an explanation. I think we need to talk to this Scott dude."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Yeah, I'm not much of one for coincidence, either. Not like I have his number or anything, though. He popped up on CalNet, then the meeting, and then? A week of nothing. It's his move at this point; either that, or see if that Grayscale guy knows how to reach him."

She sighed, then sagged a bit farther back on the sofa. "As for the totem spirit - Weave, it was called - I really don't know. I'm willing to help, but you know as well as I what happens if Amber and I are in the same room. If you're going to try to... what, transplant it to her locus? I don't think she'll let me be involved. I'll show you the place, but beyond that, I'm pretty sure I'm off the bus where she's concerned."

Sarah's previous good humour had evaporated with talk of her cousin. She'd come all this way, hoping to have one last link with family... and that link continued to spit in her face given any chance. For a very brief time, before seeing her again, Sarah had hoped that Amber would help her find the Path of Harmony. Instead, she'd had to tuck her tail between her legs and go to the Topangas.

"That actually reminds me of something where I could really use your help." Trying to shove thoughts of Amber from her mind, Sarah looked up to catch Declan's silver-grey eyes. It was a mistake; staring into those orbs was a reminder of just how much he was an Alpha in every fibre of his being, and that he'd likely never be Sarah's.

Breaking eye contact, the Dead Wolf firmly refocused on her feet as she continued. "There's a pack down along the cliffside beaches, south side of the city. I've been scouting them out, and I know their bounds. But I need more than bounds; I need to know their name, their alpha, their totem. And I've never heard any of them utter a word that wasn't in the First Tongue. I'd like to ask if you'd be willing to go with me on a scouting run, to interpret.

"But," she added, looking back up with effort at those commanding eyes of his, "there's something you need to know first. I think they're Pure."

[Owns-The-Night]

His hand froze half-way to the lamp switch next to his couch, and he sat motionless for a moment before completing the move. Soft golden light flooded the spacious lounge, highlighting the spartan lack of adornment or furniture that was practically a trademark. Declan sat back, his body relaxing as his eyes regarded the high ceiling.

The Pure! Half-remembered tales of tribes of werewolves, banded together by hate of the Uratha, spun through his mind. He wished he'd paid more attention now. Fuckin' brilliant. She's spyin' on a pack of werewolves and thinks they might be Pure?

"Makes sense..." His voice, when it came, was slow and deliberate, each word considered. "Speakin' nothin' but First Tongue would definitely be a big signal. Fuck." The last was said without real heat, but was heartfelt for all that. He rolled his head to look at Sarah. Under the calm, under the hardening resolve, there was a look in Owns-The-Night's eyes that was unfamiliar to the Dead Wolf.

It was something very much like like fear.

"If they're Pure, and they catch us snoopin', we'll be dead so fast it might not even hurt." He told her with a wry smile. "But we need to know about them, and not just for your sake. I'll help you out, frail." He sat up straighter. "Damn, and life was just startin' to be fun, too." He shot her a grin, some of his previous spit-in-the-eye-of-Death attitude flowing back into him. He gestured at his computer. "Hit the switch on that sucker and show me their bounds. We got some Mission: YouGottaBeShittin'Me stuff to plan."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Seeing something akin to fear in Declan's eyes ran something very much akin to shivers up Sarah's spine. This was the werewolf who had been cut nearly in two by a spider-host queen and still finished it off; if he was scared, things were bad.

Then again, it wasn't like the word "Pure" had exactly been taken calmly back home, either. They were spoken of in hushed and hated terms. Sarah's knowledge of them was limited: that they were apparently tough as nails and hated Luna and the Forsaken with all their black hearts. But that, along with the look on Dec's face, was enough to make clear the risk here.

It was also enough to make clear why this recon was needed. Having a pack of an enemy like the Pure in town was bad news all around.

Nodding in wordless agreement, the vampire moved with almost frighteningly inhuman grace over to the computer, hands flying across the keys as she pulled up - rather than the ubiquitous Googlemaps - something a bit older: U.S. Geological Survey topographical maps. As she zoomed in on the area, the reason became crystal clear: altitude counted. The territory that had been staked out by the Black Meanies hugged cliffs that flanked the rocky outcrops known as the Palos Verdas.

Copying the image, she dumped the thing into the basic Paint program, and started going to town marking it up. By the time she finished, it was pretty clear what the probable Pure pack held: the most remote, inaccessible, pristine beaches in the massive real-estate scam that was Los Angeles.

"This," she said, plopping a red dot on one particular inhospitable patch of beach, one with maritime warnings marked off-shore, "is where they dance. Or whatever the hell it is they're doing. Why their spirits aren't pointing me out to them, I don't know. Could be that they're dealing mostly with ocean spirits of some sort. Or that they don't consider me enough of a threat to care."

[Owns-The-Night]

"Could be that they're only worried about the ocean side." He nodded thoughtfully. "They've got good security from the landward side: cliffs, cliffs and more cliffs. Stray hikers and realtors would probably end up having 'accidents' or just plain disappearin'."

"On the other hand, could be that your second thought was right, and that they know you're snoopin' and don't care. That don't- doesn't make as much sense though. Anyone came sniffin' around, vampire, Uratha or human, and I'd damn sure want to know about it." He scratched his thick head of hair, then looked at Sarah. "How many times have you been down there?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"At least a few hours damned near every night for the past two weeks. At least," she corrected, "other than the night I was busy getting shot up by those fucking hunters."

Sarah's look went dark at the memory, and didn't get much better as she considered the current problem. "You know, if you go down there you're gonna show up on their radar. And if they really are Pure, it'll get ugly quick.

"What we really need," she quipped, "is a fucking tape recorder. Tape the babble, haul it back here and let you figure out what the hell they're saying. 'Course, getting anything worthwhile on the tape would be a guessing game, so... feh."

[Owns-The-Night]

"No, not a tape recorder. A parabolic mic. We can sit on the clifftops and listen in." Dec grinned toothily. "And I bet I know just the sneak that might be able to get us one too." His eyes gleamed as he looked at Sarah.

"Let's ask Adrian. If he comes up empty, then we might be able to tap Ariel for some stakeout equipment. I want to avoid involving the others as much as possible though. Ariel will want to know what we want it for. Adrian will too, but he won't get a burr in his fur if we tell him no." Declan pondered that. He knew that sooner or later, especially now that there might be a Pure pack in the area, he'd have to work things out with Ariel. "Oh, and when we do this thing, and if it goes sour, you run like hell girl. They'll be more interested in me anyway. Your job is to get away and tell the others what happened. Clear?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

A smile crept across Sarah's dead lips. Well, she thought, it's supposed to be a test of cunning, not of infiltration. And if getting one of the leeches to help us out works, well then that's cunning.

"I think that's a snazzy idea, Dec. Want me to give him a call, or do you want the honours?"

[Owns-The-Night]

"It's all yours, Sarah. Go ahead and call him." Declan stood up and stretched, giving Sarah a wink. "I'm going to grab a shower and some food. Make yourself at home."

With that, he strolled out of the lounge. As the Dead Wolf started dialing, she heard Declan whistling as the shower started up.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

This was either the fourth or fifth time Sarah had been left in Declan's living room while he showered. Either I'm over here too much, she thought while digging out her phone, or that man showers a helluva lot.

A few quick keystrokes and a half-dozen rings later, the little Shadow's voice came across the line, even quieter than usual. "Yes?"

"Hey, it's Sarah," the Dead Wolf half growled out over the connection. The Mekhet was useful, that she never doubted... but she still wasn't fond of working with vampires. "Gotta minute?"

"Hold on a moment...." The faintest of footsteps on tile and wood could be heard, then, "Sure. What's up?"

"Got an interesting problem, and your talents came to mind. What're the chances you can get your hands on a parabolic mic? Something you wouldn't mind Declan and I using for a night or two?" And possibly losing, she failed to add.

Surprisingly, the reply came without hesitation. "No problem. I can have it over later tonight. I'll bring the manual over too. Say 4am?"

With surprise in her voice, Sarah replied, "That actually would be great. Declan's place. See you then?"

"No problem. I gotta get back to something, but I'll be there. Anything else?"

For the life of her, Sarah couldn't think of anything. "Not so much, no. See you when you get here, then." Without waiting for further reply, she punched End to cut the call, then waited for Declan to emerge from his ever-present shower to tell him the good news.

[Owns-The-Night]

Sarah wasn't far off the mark. Declan liked to shower.

He liked the clean feeling, he enjoyed the relaxation of the hot water. He even enjoyed the mild herbal soap. In a life of rage, savagery and bloodletting, a hot shower after a run or a fight was Declan's one civilised vice. He could do without. Hell, he had done without for three months. But here and now, there was hot water and nothing more pressing to attend to.

Eventually the Rahu emerged, wearing jeans and towelling off his hair. He nodded at Sarah as he passed through the lounge into the kitchen. "So what's the deal?" he asked as without further preamble, he started to put together a sandwich that contained meat and little else. Even the bread was kind of an afterthought.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"The lee... er, Adrian will be over with the mic in a few hours, around four or so. I'll say this: he's resourceful."

With that, Sarah had exhausted her apparent goodwill for her fellow vampire-kind, and sank back onto the sofa again. "So, beyond hunters and Pure and orphaned totems and stuff, anything else going on?"

[Owns-The-Night]

He took a large bite out of his sandwich as he plunked back down on the couch, speaking around the mouthful of bread and barely-cooked meat as he answered her.

"Nope. Not so far." He glanced sideways at her, still chewing. "Well, I did hear somethin' important. Amber's got a new job. Workin' as a bodyguard." Another bite. "For a leech."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Being a vampire has its advantages. One of those is that it's extremely rare to be drinking something when shocking news comes in, which is the only reason Sarah didn't choke, cough and spew some beverage throughout Declan's living room.

Instead, she went stock-still, frozen for a moment in time before words in a low tone tinged with a growl escaped her lips.

"My cousin..." she began, as her jaw tensed.

"...is working..." The slightest of twitches could be seen just beneath her left eye.

"...as a bodyguard..." How exactly knuckles cracked in hands that didn't move was a bit of a mystery, but the sound was unmistakable.

"...for a leech." A red haze crept in from the sides of her vision, visible even from Declan's vantage point, and a vein that had no business doing a damned thing anymore began to throb beneath her bangs.

The werewolf had seen this before. Had seen it, in fact, during his three month retreat into the wilds. But for all that, he'd never thought that a vampire could be beset by the Rage.

Sarah's eyes were clamped tightly shut by this point - so tightly that only the tiniest bead of red escaped from the corner of one, too small even to fall or run. Every muscle in her body was taut as a violin string, tighter than a drum, with the tension between them showing up as tremors in her skin as she fought against her Beast to maintain control.

After a long, long moment during which Declan wondered if he was about to have a Rage-driven bundle of fangs and claws on his hands, an eerie calm seemed to wash over the Dead Wolf, and she opened her eyes: eyes now literaly bloodshot, but starting to clear as she literally blinked away the crimson.

Sarah took a deep, long breath as the frenzy was averted, and finally said in a deadly calm, "I think her bitching rights about me have officially expired." Her eyes, now cleared of all but the slightest hint of red at the edges, locked with her hosts, and he could see determination within them, hard as granite, hot as a wildfire. "When you pack up as Declan's Raiders, I want in, and Amber can go howl about it 'til she's hoarse for all I care."

Code:

Check to avoid frenzy
(06:29:27) ChatBot: (Sarah_OOC) rolls 5d10 and gets 10,1,6,7,9.
(06:29:34) ChatBot: (Sarah_OOC) rolls 1d10 and gets 9.
Three successes.  Thankfully.

[Owns-The-Night]

Declan stopped mid-chew as Sarah wrestled with her anger, keeping his eyes on her. He wasn't surprised that his words had gotten some sort of "Bitch can get the fuck off her high horse" reaction, but he did eye Sarah's struggle with keen interest and, to be honest, a certain amount of concern that he'd need to take steps. When Sarah didn't turn green, swell up to five times her mass and burst out of her clothes yelling "Sarah SMASH!", Owns-The-Night resumed chewing with a slight grin.

"Well, the way she tells it she had no choice: the vamp owns her apartment building and set the rent too high for her to pay." He glanced over at Sarah as he swallowed his current mouthful. "Now I don't know if he knew who he was jerkin' around or not, but it seems fangboy has himself a few enemies amongst his own kind. Amber did a deal to preserve her turf." He took another bite of his sandwich. The impromptu meal was almost gone now. "She gets to kill vampires until the problem stops, plus he's payin' her and has given her a nifty little phone like yours. Altogether it's not a bad deal, and in her shoes I'd probably do the same thing. But you've got a point: I'm not a high and mighty Stormlord runaway with a hate-on for leeches."

He popped the last bit of the sandwich into his mouth. "We should play it cagey with this one. I told you for two reasons, and neither was to give you ammo to rip into her prematurely with. First reason is I think of you as kinda pack already, like Amber and like Ariel. If Amber needs to be bailed out because she's gotten too deep into leech games, we need to know. Ariel probably knows already, but I'll sound her out about it. Second reason is that Amber's not the only Wren girl around here with a high horse." His eyes held hers.

"The way she treats you and talks about you, you treat and talk about Adrian. Maybe not as bad, but the same base note is there. You need to sort through that because the kid's okay, and trustworthy as far as I can see. Hell, he even tries to do the right thing when he can." His voice was calm, his gaze steady on hers. "But there's a practical reason not to treat him like dirt too. We live in the middle of a goddamn city, and there's vampires everywhere. We need to find ones we can rely on not to shaft us when our back's are turned. Adrian's our pipeline into their world. I trust him further than I can throw him, and if something's happened on the vampire side of things that could affect us, I'd like to have a friendly set of ears over there."

"I don't see Amber as wrong for the deal she struck. I do think she's dented her armour of righteousness or whatever. If I was a leech-hater, I'd load up the stakes and go to town. She didn't. Double standards grit my shit somethin' fierce." He shrugged. "But hell, maybe she'll see the light after workin' for them. What we need to do..." He indicated Sarah, then himself with a pointed thumb. "...is be ready to bail her out if needed."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

The look on Sarah's face was pure comedy, as shock swept into anger, swirled around confusion for a moment, then finally settled into frustration and maybe even something akin to shame.

Slightly deflated, the Dead Wolf sighed. "Well... fuck. If some goddamned leech has an iron hold on her locus, she's in a helluva place. It's all well and good to talk about going medieval on them, but when push comes to shove one werewolf isn't going to make it through to some high and mighty type without getting taken down by his goons. And yeah: if the shit hits the fan and she needs help, call me and I'll be there."

She fumed for a minute, then looked shame-faced at Declan's feet. "And yeah, I know I'm hard on Adrian. He's been damned useful - hell, his mic might clue us in on that beach pack over the next few nights, and he held his own when we went after the man-eater. It's just...."

Her words trailed off, and she was left to wonder: just what? That he's undead? So are you, Sarah O'Neally. So what's the difference?

"It's just," she repeated, coming to understand her prejudices a bit more, "that he unlives like they do, grouped up in a coterie with them, playing all the little vampire games. I don't like those vampire games, because they wind up with a whole ton of backstabbing. It's the antithesis of a pack; they only trust each other so far as they're handy." In a slightly quieter voice, she added, "And people get caught in their games. Like Amber."

Sighing, she finally said, "I know Adrian tries. And I know that both he and I are vampires. But dammit, I wish he didn't act so much like one." Slumping back on the sofa, she lamented, "Different blood pulls us in different ways. Mine drives me to try to be like the People, to dedicate myself to a totem and pack. His? His drives him to sneak and spy his way through the night and vampire society. Not his fault, and not mine. I'll... I'll try to cut him some slack."

[Owns-The-Night]

Smiling, he rested a warm hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Good. Maybe we can give him an alternative: a haven from leech politics that he can turn to when his fair-weather friends try to shaft him. And in return, he'll be able to help us stay clear of those little pit-vipers' games." He leaned back on the sofa and relaxed. "There's more important things than vampires for us to deal with, after all. And if we don't need to go for a stake-n-grill, I don't want to. What with the Pure, spirits, and the possibly hostile group of willworkers runnin' around, plus fuckin' hunters, we've got enough on our plates."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Heh, no kidding." He wasn't wrong; there was a ton on their respective plates, joint and individual. Which reminded Sarah of something.

"Hey, I've got a proposition for you, at least until or unless we do pack up and join territories. You have a helluva huge bunch of ground to cover, and a day job to hold down. I've got a relatively small turf, but no way to keep tabs on the spirit side of things. What would you think of a bit of mutual help: you keep an eye for the spirits getting out of hand on my ground, and I'll help run night patrols for the solid-side stuff on campus?"

[Owns-The-Night]

He mulled that over for a brief moment.

"Sounds good. 'Course, I'd need a place to step into the Hisil to do that, but I figure if I ask nicely Amber would let me use her door. Too bad there's not one on the camp...us..." He ground to a stop, his eyes going distant as though something had hit him. Then he started to swear under his breath.

"Goddamn fuckin' fuzzy-brained furry-assed idiot!" He uttered with quiet intensity. "I just thought of somethin'." His eyes focused brightly on Sarah. "The Azlu that was here. The big one. How did it get here?" The question was obviously rhetorical. "I mean, the fuckin' thing needed a locus to cross over, right? And it must have been here for a while: before I got here even, to be as big as it was. And they like to web up locusses- uh, locii - to use as traps for others." He started to grin, shaking his head. "There has to be a locus around somewhere nearby. Webbed up, for sure, but present. I was so wrapped up in stopping that thing and then in getting better from my wounds that it totally slipped my mind that the Spider Bitch would have had a nest."

He slumped back into the sofa, looking thoughtful.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Oh.... fuck. You mean that... I mean, you guys haven't secured the Spider Host's locus? That's..."

Sarah knew exactly what that meant. After working with the Ajo Runners, she'd learned a lot about the arachnic Ridden: what they did, how they worked, how they'd come back. And part of that was that their nests were always centered on a locus, the one weak spot they'd leave in the local wall-between-worlds, unencumbered by their webs.

"...bad," she finished lamely. Swallowing hard, she explained. "If there was a nest, and it's not been watched since you axed the Queen, more stuff could have come through. A lot more stuff. Very possibly including more spiders."

Sitting up straight, she looked at Declan and made a decision. "After we scout out the Black Meanies, we turn an eye to the Spider's locus. That needs nailing down. Count me in."

[Owns-The-Night]

"Deal." Declan offered his hand to Sarah, giving her a tight grin. "As soon as Adrian gets here, we'll talk a couple of things over with him, too. I want to treat him as an ally, so we're starting tonight. Besides, he might know something about the vamps Amber's mixed up with."

Sarah smiled back, taking his warm living hand in her pale cold grasp before the two of them relaxed, Declan spinning tales of his time running with the wolf pack as they waited for their next guest.

[Adrian Moss]

It wasn't so much that the shop had what he wanted, but that it was right there on the counter when he walked in. The shop's owner, a former cop named Bert, had walked him through how to use one of these mics, including selective focus and recording. He even gave Adrian the name of a good sould lab, if he needed it.

The drive over to Declan's brought back fond memories to Adrian. He remembered his exile there and the smell and sounds of an occupied house. It was different and comforting in a way that living with power brings. As was his typical form, Adrian parked way down the street and walked the block and a half to Declan's door.

This time he showed the commone sense to knock.

[Owns-The-Night]

Declan rose and answered the door, nodding a welcome to the slim figure of the vampire outside. "Adrian. Come on in, kid. Grab a seat: we're wanting to talk over a few things." He stepped aside and waved the Mekhet in, his silver gaze scanning the street outside for any curious passers-by.

Seeing none, he shut the door behind Adrian and flopped onto the beanbag, leaving the space on the couch free for his new visitor.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah had braced herself as she listened to steps coming up the walk. Something inside her kept wanting to chant, over and over, "Fucking leech... fucking leech!"

When the door opened, and the little Mekhet stepped into Declan's home, that chant damned near became an inner scream. And that's when the Dead Wolf realized the real source of the revulsion, the hatred, the utter rage at this leech and all the others.

It was her own Beast. That thing old Juan had told her about, warned her about, the ugliness that lived in the deepest corners of her undead heart.

She might not particularly like Adrian for his active participation in the Danse Macabre, but the hatred was from that same unreasoning monster within that she had fought for three years and change now. And knowing is half the battle.

Grabbing her Beast by the throat and shoving it hard into a metaphorical wall, Sarah looked to Adrian and managed something akin to a smile.

"Good to see you." It might not have been entirely earnest, but the words were the closest to it she'd managed with the little Shadow in half a year of knowing him. And that's a start.

[Adrian Moss]

Adrian wanted to run away upon seeing Sarah. He always wanted to bolt. It was the echo of their first meeting when things had gone so badly. He held his own easily this time and went over to the couch. The Mekeht sat down, put the boxes down beside him and looked between Sarah and Declan. He conciously avoided making lasting eye contact, believing that was a sign of agression and desperately wanting to make a good impression.

"Well, I have the equipment you asked for. I would offer to help you out with whatever you are working on, but I'm kind of in the middle of things at the moment. Still, it's really good to see you both again."

Looking at Declan,

"It's good to have you back keeping the campus safe. Do you want me advertising that fact, or do you want more time to ... bring your pack together? Some vamps might get the wrong idea about a lone Were."

With a nervous smile, he adds,

"Then I might have to kick their ass."

"It's real good to have you back, Man."

He looks to Sarah as if he is about to say something, but stops himself. What he wants to ask can wait until later. It's her business and he doesn't know how far these two are into each other's lives. He doesn't want to assume anything.

[Owns-The-Night]

"Go ahead and let them know I'm back. They can feed, but any bloodless corpses or disruption to this place is their pale cold ass." Declan's grin is nothing short of savage. "Even if I was the sort to bother countin' numbers..." He glanced at Sarah, then back to Adrian. "..I'm not exactly alone, am I?"

He settled further into the beanbag. "There was somethin' I wanted to sound you out about, though. Sarah tells me that undead life can be a snakepit where the biggest backstabber ends up on top. I don't see you as that type of guy: more the type that does what he has to and loses sleep over it." His eyes fixed on Adrian's face. "What I'm proposin' to you is an arrangement where you have buddies you can count on not to fuck you first opportunity, in exchange for the same fellow feelin' in return."

"I ain't tellin' you that you'll be one of the pack. But you'll be a damn sight closer than any other normal vampire..." He winked at Adrian. "Which doesn't include Sarah. I can't speak for the stubborn females, but me? I'll be a friend to you as long as you're a friend to me."

"And that's pretty much the deal. I'm not one to argue fine print. I hate fine print." Declan's lack of talent for lying or dissembling in any way was actually an aid here: he was completely sincere, the Mekhet saw.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah was silent through the Alpha's speech. She'd know it was coming, and pretty much knew the contents. It still made something inside her want to scream bloody murder, but she knew all too well what that something was now.

When Declan was done explaining, Adrian dared cast a questioning look at Sarah, actually meeting her eyes. She held them for a long moment, and then gave a simple, single, sincere nod that told more than any words could have managed. Regardless whatever else, she'd back Declan's words to the hilt, and it was clear as day in her deep green eyes.

[Adrian Moss]

Adrian digest what is said to him then smiles. Then he really smiles. He hops up and grins at Sarah. He tentatively offers her his hand.

"Congrat! I know you've really wanted to be a member of a pack, and now it's come true."

Looking to Declan,

"Sure. I'll be your friend. That's all I've ever wanted. I know I really don't have what it takes to be part of your world, but being a friend on the outside is okay by me."

"Well, since we're friends, I guess I can ask: What is the mic for? It's got a laser targeting system and a range of 500 feet. Sure it looks big, but it's lightweight ~ 5 lbs. or so. It's really neat for when being close is not an option. It's what the Navy SEALs use. Now if you give me a week, I can help out."