As the ghouls blocking the entrance turn into quantities of meat, Sal's concern for her friends diminishes. They can handle themselves, she thinks, But you... you're mine.
Trying to control her breathing, she drags her eyes to the one thing in the room she utterly dreads: the whitish creature pinning Lord Lawrence to the wall. She sights through the scope at the thing's head, reciting a litany to herself, a litany of the dead, to steady her nerves and hands. For Smitty... for Puddin'... for Gobbo... for Creep... for all those poor villagers you owned. She aims carefully, slowing her breathing. I pray to God and the Blessed Virgin that you are a damned soul, for eternal hellfire isn't punishment enough for you. But all I can do is send you to Him for judgement, like a good soldier. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.
Blowing out a breath and stilling her body, she energizes only those muscles required to squeeze the trigger.
Kenneth grabs Molly and through the multitude of Danny's illusionary forms, the skald pushes his way past the grey ghoul.
As Sal exhales her body goes into the natural stillness of the snipers repose, in the silence a voice whispers to her - so lightly it's difficult to tell whether it's her own thoughts. "Granted, yours is the power. Mano de Dios. I give you the strength to match your faith." The voice is oddly reminiscent, though in the moment it's difficult to place where.
Time slows down.
Sal can almost feel the breath before her as the trigger is squeezed and the whole world dilates into a series of pictures. The rifle barrel expands slightly like the cheeks of a child spitting out a cherry stone. As from the muzzle erupts, a conflagration of smoke tears out through the silencer.
Despite the cover of the vent & the chaos of the scene in the meeting room, the pale Poppy Queen starts to turn her mask of humanity ripped away by the combat showing her true face - there's something desirously ruinous about the creature; the promise of the lie of heaven. The grey eyes stare longingly....
Expulsed by the barrel, the high-calibre bullet is coated with a hoary frost that coalesces into something more. With a pure light it sparkles, so bright at to nearly burn the retina and consume the ammunition in a blazing power. Rather than passing through the louvres of the vent the comet explodes them outwards on it's unerring coarse towards the vampiress.
Sals' eyes lock with the grey orbs of the Poppy Sire, regardless of the scope of awkward angle - a soulgaze slowly starts to form....
....but is cut short as the pure comet of justice smashes into the centre of the creatures skull. There's a momentary blink of shock and startlement crosses her visage as she realises what has happened. For all her supernatural toughness and longevity, she's not prepared for the reaper.
However her unnatural vitality keeps her aloft momentarily, as she falls a pale hand shoots out with an awkward grace at the Lord of York. Grabbing from his damaged grasp the detonator, a manicured finger presses the switch - as the dying demi-immortal tries to take as many as she can with her.
The room is consumed in a conflagration of flames!
Kenneth & Molly are thrown down the corridor, the blast throwing them forwards against the wall at an unnatural angle.
Danny, Laverna, Andrew & Bunny are luckier as they rushed further down the corridor. They are blown out of into the small atrium, as the front of the new building is ripped away.
Despite being in an enclosed space, Sal is blasted back down the air-ducts fired out of them like a bullet.
Sal's eyes go wide as she sees the detonator. She reacts automatically, curling into a ball, squeezing her eyes tight shut, clamping her hands over her ears, and opening her mouth slightly to equalize the pressure around her eardrums, hoping to save her hearing and sight, if not her life. She gulps a breath of sweet air and holds it before the blast comes.
In manus tuas, Domine...
Running for his life (And Danny, when properly motivated, can run very fast indeed!) the singer turned bodyguard is almost caught up to Laverna, when he hears the explosion behind him.
Surprisingly, Danny did still have a little faster that he could go. Who knew?
In an almost Matrix-style slow motion, Danny looks over his shoulder as he runs, and can see the blast catching up to him and the others. He pumps his legs and arms even faster, his inner Han Solo coming out involuntarily,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO, OOOOOOOHHHHHHSHIIIIIIIII,...."
:)
Danny
The explosion is generally directed into the meeting room, but so great is the force and power of the explosives that it blossoms out through the door. The red petals of the blast expand brushing the blackened smoky detritus before it as the superheated fire burns away all before it.
Bunny bounds before Danny, flying through the glazed double doors of the atrium and into the night beyond. Laverna must have rushed forwards with Andrew feyly fast.
However, Danny has his own troubles as he can feel the blast singing the hairs on the back of his neck as his legs piston forward. Jumping as the concussion wave hits him, rather than being dragged across the reception or blown into the drying concrete floor, Danny flies through the air....
Adrenaline pumps and eyes widen as before him, the musician sees the glazed doors reflecting the crimson bloom and he tucks in bracing himself against the glass. Glass that explodes into a spider-web of razor shards before his impact, caught on the compressed gas of the blast. Just past Danny's arm, so close as to rip the shoulders of his jacket whilst he passes the doors' architraves.
For a moment he's astonished by his luck, before he hits the tarmac of the car-park. Despite the chill there's still a high asperity, the harsh rough ground rips away at his clothes and skin leaving a sore speckled rash that many a biker'd be proud of.
Coming to a tumbling stop, his head ringing Danny looks up - straight into the grey mottled face of a ghoul. 'Just his Fey Luck'
Sal
Trying to equalise the pressure as the explosion reverberates infront of her, not the beauty and carnage of those in the hall, it's just the elemental entropy and viciousness of power. The room before her is turned into a plasma of parts and gas as the pressure wave hits. In the cramped confines of the oversized air-vent the sniper tries to curl up into a ball against the primal forces that can evaporate flesh and crack bone.
Rather than being a sea-breaker against the wave, Sal is a vessel upon the crashing wave of force. Thrown backwards by the tide of pressure, she starts to tumble against the sides of the aluminium ventilation shaft. Fortunately the tight space means that she doesn't tumble or bounce against the sides like a deadly rattle, instead being lifted on a cushion of air under the ride. Where she touches the sides her smouldering clothes abrade off easily, leaving dark marks that are quickly consumed by the chasing fire.
With barely a moment to think of the depths of the vent - it becomes an oblique angle upwards. Flying back over a wide gap, Sal has moments to turn against the juddering impact that runs straight up her legs as she tries to absorb it. The HALO para-training paying off, despite the impact and sudden blinding pain that focuses her world down to a single point. The thought comes-unbidden that were the vent perpendicular she'd be a sandwich now; a toasted sandwich.
Momentum carries her onwards for another instant as she tumbles towards the next oblique, her centre of gravity and orientation thrown askew by the blast she covers her head with her arms. In the turn Sal is in an almost crouched position and thrown against the second oblique.
Her head would've hit the side of the vent in a cantaloupe explosion, but an arm is trapped in between. With a snap and a world of black, the small figure is blown directly upwards out of the vent and through the roof in a parabolic arc.
In a hazy conciousness, Sal opens her eyes - flying above the building at least a treetop height. The fountains of the blast erupting below her, stark against the darkness. Gravity begins to take hold, starting with her stomach which suddenly drops. Her upper arm feels warm, a wet internal warmth beneath the sleeve of her turtleneck and beneath the muscle - the pain is not immediate just the mild discomfort as she looks down through bleary eyes to the approaching darkness.
Bracing for a jarring impact and trauma, Sal suddenly finds herself enveloped by the black fluid cold of the river with a monumental splash.
Danny blinks, trying to see clearly through the haze of his pounding head, aching ears and battered body.
He sees the ghoul,...
Then he wishes he hadn't.
"Out of the frying pan,..."
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Dark, quiet, peaceful. Sal opened her eyes. She was sitting on the floor of the cave in the mountains again, but not inside that hated cage. The rock was cold against her back and rear as she leaned against the wall.
She sighed, working up the strength of will to look around. Turning her head to the right was a tremendous effort, but worth it. There was the damned cage, door burst open and body smashed to bits, bars warped and broken. Lying before the open door was a tall, pale woman with a hole between her eyes and a surprised expression. Her head was strangely flat. Sal felt herself starting to smile unintentionally, helplessly. The b&%%~ was gone. The world was a better place.
“Sal, move your keester.”
The rough voice was familiar. Hating to leave the sight of her enemy laid out before her, Sal sighed and, with as much effort as before, turned her head to look for the speaker. A black-gloved hand swam into view only inches from her face. Automatically, she reached up to grasp it, noting almost absently that her hand was similarly gloved. The strong grip drew her to her feet.
“Puddin?” A familiar face drifted into focus, pale but smiling. “I thought you were dead.”
The woman made no answer, but drew Sal into a bear hug. “We’re here. Thank you.” The sudden release of pressure made Sal stagger back a step, only to run up against the cave wall. They were all there. But not like the last time she’d seen them. No, now they looked strong, well, armed and uniformed as they should be. “Gobbo? Creep? Smitty. You guys look great. What… what’s going on? What are we doing here?”
Gobbo stepped forward and pulled her into a one-armed hug, rocking her back and forth roughly. ”You done good, runt.”
”Jackass,” she replied, still smiling, as she punched him gently in the ribs. Her face didn’t seem to want to make any other expression.
Creep took Gobbo’s place. ”You did it, Sal. Came through for us, just like family.”
She returned his hug. ”No choice, man. You know that.”She grinned up as he nodded and stepped back, his teeth white against his dark skin.
It was Smitty’s turn to grab her. ”Thanks, Sal. And.. Sorry.”
”Sorry? For what? You guys got nothin’ to be sorry about.”
”For doing what we did. For not being strong enough to resist.” He didn’t let go. Behind him, the others nodded. Smitty lowered his mouth to her ear to whisper, whiskers rough against her cheek. ”And for me, for being too slow. For never knowing what might have been.”
She shook her head, still smiling though the tears were coming now. ”Nah, it wasn’t your fault. It was hers. And, I dunno, bad luck. You didn’t let me down. Not you. Never you. You’re my family.” She didn’t want to let him go, but he released her and stepped back, leaving her cold and alone.
”Seeya ‘round kid.” With last nods and a wave or two, the squad headed towards the mouth of the cave, bright against the dimly-lit interior.
”Hey, wait. I’m coming.” She grabbed her pack, suddenly on the floor beside her, slung it on her back, and moved to follow. Smitty turned back, held up one hand in the combat signal to hold position.
”Not yet. Orders. Your tour isn’t over yet. Ours is. We can move on, thanks to you.”
”But…” She stood rooted, dumbly watching the black-clad figures trudge into the light and fade away. But I want to go with you, she whispered.
It’s not time yet. A strange voice whispered back inside her head, then all was silent.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Cold. Sal floats in the cold and the dark. Dead? But she feels the strong thudding of her heart, so no. Not dead. Not yet. She drifts comfortably, waiting for her heartbeats to stop. How long will it be after it stops before I pass out? Before I really die? she wonders idly, unconcerned.
Her muscles spasm in a deep shiver, and she suddenly feels the burning need for air in her lungs. Underwater. The last deep breath she’d gulped and held is stale now, leeched of oxygen, and her body screams to inhale. The relaxed, floaty feel suddenly turns to misery as her body’s signals flood to her awakening brain.
Her training kicks in -- Upside down in the water in the helicopter, no light… how do you get out? -- terror tempered with knowledge. She tries to clamp a hand over her mouth but her arm won’t do what she wants, so she brings the other hand up to pinch her nose and cover her mouth.
Breathe out to reduce the CO2. Follow the bubbles. She allows some air to escape and feels for the stream of bubbles, kicking to align her body with the stream and follow it.
Now swim, m@$&***@!+##, swim! She kicks hard, realizing that, somewhere over York or back in the vent-cannon, her shoes have been knocked off her feet. All the better for swimming. The explosion, the fire... it's all coming back to her. And her friends were in there, back in that burning building. I'm coming! My fault. Gotta get 'em out!
She keeps her hand clamped over her mouth and nose and lets her screaming lungs try to breathe, chest heaving uselessly as her eyes seek the lamplight along the river or on the bridge. The world grows brighter and brighter as she kicks, and suddenly her face breaks the shimmering surface, vision blurred by the water in her eyes. She whoops in one huge, sweet, beautiful breath before the water closes over her again.
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Danny
The inhuman jaw extends and a viscous mucus drools from it's elongated maw; then a rough voice rasps out. "Food pre-cooked delivery. Must be my lucky day....."
Sal
As Sal swims to the surface, there seems to be the presence of something in the water with her ... a large fish or maybe just an old shopping trolley thrown into the canal-like river by weekend revellers. Though it's movements are sinuous, 'Need any help?' She 'hears' a new voice speak to her.
Danny
The inhuman jaw extends and a viscous mucus drools from it's elongated maw; then a rough voice rasps out. "Food pre-cooked delivery. Must be my lucky day....."
"Oh Great. I'm gonna be eaten by a comedian. EVERYBODY wants to be in the act!"
Danny grouses as he levers himself up. So very slowly and painfully. Far too slowly and painfully to try and take on the were-woof wanna-be in an actual fight.
"Naw. You don't want me. All stringy skin and bones." He coughs in a close approximation of his usual bravado.
"Main course is still inside. Hang on, I'll get it for you!" He says more chipperly, his adrenaline kicking through the haze of pain in his head and body, allowing him to stay one heartbeat ahead of the panic threatening to overtake him. Then he sees a form moving on the ground, behind the Ghoul. And Danny has to use all of his acting skills not to cheer. Or at least sigh in relief.
"Oh, wait, I'm sorry sir. But you are NOT properly dressed for this establishment. I simply cannot allow you to enter in your current state" Danny says, turning up his nose at the smoking and battered ghoul.
Made even more funny by the fact that Danny can't possibly look any better right now.
"Let me have the ushers show you to the coat room. Perhaps we can find a suitable jacket for you." Danny says in a tone that clearly says he doesn't expect to find anything to fit the monster, period.
Danny raises his fingers to his bleeding lips, and gives a whistle.
A WOLF- whistle. Straight out of a bugs bunny cartoon.
"Have you met my friend? Scooby Doo-ette? and her boyfriend, Shaggy?" Danny grins.
"YA THINK?" Sal thinks loudly as she struggles to regain the surface. "S~++, that was rude. Yes. Please. Whoever you are. Hurry!"
She gulps another quick breath but drops below the surface before finishing, involuntarily expelling the river water and the breath explosively underwater, good arm waving wildly for something to grab.
Kenneth winces as he sees the hand around the trigger moving, biting back his immediate urge to curse, and instead snarling a word in Scotsgaelic, "Dìdean", giving form to the Fire of the Forge that he'd been building up, putting a shield between his sister and the blast. I cannae say that was the wisest course ay action.... especially when I dinnae ken what may be powering Molly... Hopefully mail, faith and the Lady's blessings will be enow...
The hurls himself toward the door, trying to ride the shockwave as best he can. Lady, any aid you may have tae give would be most welcome...
"Ah, not a jacket man eh? Can't say I blame you. Very restrictive of movement. Perhaps some pre-dinner music while you wait?"
Danny produces a harmonica with a flare. He blows a note from the center of the harmonica, then hums the note again in perfect tune.
"Ah, Yes! Splendid! I have JUST the song!" He says with a grin through the bruises forming on his face. He takes a deep breath, and blows the harmonica again. Hard. On the highest range of the tiny musical instrument,...
,... Funny thing about Danny's harmonica. In a desperate attempt to try and make sure that he had SOME sort of defense against the potential vamp-suck-fest they were walking into, he had packed a small anti-vamp-nuke into his harmonica on the lowest notes possible. A mixture (aided by the chemical mixing genius of Kenneth) of various things guaranteed to make a vamp, ANY vamp, uncomfortable at least. Garlic powder, silver nitrate, shredded holy texts, love letters and other various bits, all soaked in holy water and allowed to air-dry in direct sunlight while reciting prayers. Short-range and one-shot, but Danny had hoped effective enough to allow him to escape an unsolicited neck-nuzzling.
In the OTHER end, Danny had gone less 'magi-tech' and more mundane. A homemade pepper-bomb, consisting mainly of red cayenne pepper, salt for eyes, and few other things guaranteed to make a mess of the eyes and noses of anyone unlucky enough to get a snootful. It should be (he hoped) especially effective on those with higher-than-human senses, like werewolves.
Or ghouls.
It was on this end that Danny blew with all his might.
Right in the ghouls slobbering snoot,...
Sal
There's a soft chuckle as the blackness of the water envelops Sal, for a moment it seems like the voice is accepting of her drowning... then she feels a water-softened hand grab her calf and push her to the surface. Gasping in a breath of air, the sniper finds herself next to the rivers edge - a concrete lip much like a canals. Just before she crests the surface with her newly cropped couple of inches of hair, the softly male voice says; "You'll owe me..."
Then there's the swish of some currents as it seems like the being moves away.
Hooking her good arm over the lip of the embankment, Sal hangs on for her life while coughs rack her body. As her airway clears, she remains dangling in the water for a moment, gasping for breath and trying to catch a glimpse of her rescuer, who has disappeared quite effectively. The winter-cold river leeches the warmth from her body, and she realizes she needs to get out now, before hypothermia sets in. Since her left arm still refuses to obey commands, she hooks her right leg up over the lip of the river's edge and hoists herself out, rolling under the guard chain to lie gasping and shivering on the concrete.
Billowing plumes of fire reflect off the river's surface, reminders of the mortal peril her friends face. Good arm beneath her, Sal tries to push herself to her feet several times before finally succeeding. She staggers badly and avoids plunging back into the water only by a quick grab at a pillar supporting the chain at the river's edge. The reflexive action draws a scream of pain from her injured arm, sending another jolt of adrenaline through her battered body, galvanizing it into action.
Eyes on the fire, Sal stumbles forward into a staggering run, straight toward the blazing building. You'll owe me, she thinks muzzily while her feet pound the hard pavement, What was Danny saying about accepting things from the fae? As the exertion warms her and helps shake off the river's chill, she feels the bright blaze of burns dotting her skin and almost wishes she were back in the soothing, deadly cold water. The huge fire should be roaring, but all she can hear is a high-pitched ringing. Good thing I didn't buy an expensive stereo.
Danny & Kenneth in the Parking Lot
Kenneths' shield crashes against the blast, at first it seems like it would waver and collapse covering the duo in immolating force. However the Goddesses power holds firm, enabling him to ride the blast out into the darkness of the car-park. At the start of the explosion Molly sagged slightly as if the strings of a puppet was cut, however it just makes her more maleable to being led outside.
The skald steps from the blazing inferno to look around the tarmaced area beside the river. Laverna & Andrew stand to one side, her hand on his shoulder.
As Danny blows out the harmonica into the ghouls face, it lets out a snarl it's eyes go wide. The golden canine form of Bunny had rushed forward and with a quick snapping maw grabbed onto a delicate area of the ghoul. With a wrenching motion of her head, just as the concoction hits the creature in the face. It lets out a howl of agony and starts to do a hobbling run away from the car park down the tow path.
In the surrounding darkness you are aware there may be more of them....
Danny jumps in surprise at the ghouls reaction. I mean, he had been HOPING for it, but the suddenness still caught him off-guard in his adrenaline-fueled trigger-finger reactive state.
It wasn't until the ghoul had hobbled, howling, almost out of the light of the bonfire before Danny's brain caught up. His knees almost turned to jello in relief. He grinned at Bunny standing next to him, still growling at the departing ghoul.
"Way to go Scooby!" Danny impulsively hugged the golden-furred werewolf, not entirely to cover the fact that his knees were weak and shaking. He stands up, more or less steady, and drawls in a nearly perfect Shaggy-voice,...
"Zoinks! Let's like, split man, before any more decide to show up!"
As Sal dog-trots unsteadily toward the dark figures grouped near the burning building, her big toe encounters something painfully hard lying on the pavement. It skitters a few inches as she curses, and the sound of it sliding on tarmac is somehow familiar. By the light of the fire, she sees a metallic glint on the ground. Could it be?
"Oh, sweetheart," she croons softly, kneeling to retrieve her rifle, "I thought you were gone forever. So good to see you. You deserve a medal, and a good cleaning. We'll be back at Trip's soon and everything will be fine."
She awkwardly cradles the weapon in her right arm and rises, moving more slowly through the dark now until she is able to better see the figures in the car park. Friend or foe?
Kenneth carefully scans the area, his senses alert and blade in his hand. He quickly takes a look at his sister, making sure she's unharmed, at least physically, before chuckling, "Ach, that was a mite dramatic. Everyone still connected tae all their bits?"
"What?!?" Danny says, indicating his ears are ringing.
"No! I haven't had all my WITS for years!" He grins.
"Save the drama for the stage." He adds in a normal tone, mostly.
"Real life is exciting enough, Thenkyewveddymuch."
Danny turns towards Laverna, straightens his scorched clothing self-consciously, and bows.
"My Lady. It would seem that the negotiations have ended prematurely due to some,... disagreements among the participants. I can verify that your party and personage had nothing to do with anything that could possibly break with the rules and traditions of the meeting. My most abject apologies for having to ask you to leave the meeting early. May I escort you to your lodging for the evening? Or would her Lady care to sample some of the city's nightlife since her evening was cut short?"
As far as anyone can tell, Danny is being extremely conscientious and formally adhering to the scripts set forth before the dawn of man for a servitor inquiring after his lady's well-being.
In other words, he was REALLY shaken up,...
The figures illuminated by the dying building grow clear as Sal trudges forward. A golden wolf next to the formerly-dapper emissary of Summer and the woman he was set to escort. The scorched figures of the vampire's lawyer and the tall bard, sword in hand. And Morien had been with the car, clear of the conflagration.
Sal takes the cradled rifle by the barrel, gently rests the stock on the pavement, and sinks to her knees. Alive, she breathes, barely able to believe it, Gracias a Dios, all alive. Sinking back onto her heels, she leans her forehead against the rifle and starts to laugh, a clear, pure sound of joy and relief.
Bunny wags her tail to Danny's praise, before she turns as Laverna & Andrew approach gracefully sauntering. She chuckles softly, like the caress of velvet on skin, at Danny's eloquence and formality. Andrew stiffens slightly at this his eyes not quite focussed.
The sidhe woman then raises her elegant arm in a circling wave.
As if responding to Laverna's call, a pale vehicle glides from the darkness - the flames flickering playfully across the white paint and seem to bring out a pattern from below the paintwork. Moving too quickly in a carpark, hurtling towards the small group.... it performs a handbrake turn.
During the skid the door is already open swinging against the momentum of the vehicle and Laverna steps inside in a fluid motion before Mooriens' car stops moving. It halts a pace from where she was stood and within a couple of arms reach of Danny - protecting him from the firing lines from the nearby roads.
When Kenneth looks Molly over it appears she's unharmed, her hair has been lightly singed and there's a small abrasion on one arm with a brush of her human blood.
Bunny tilts one head to the side after jumping back at the approach of the car.
Danny sways as the car skids to a stop within reach of him. He raises an eyebrow, as if to say 'Nice driving'. Or perhaps 'You wouldn't dare.'
Truth be told, he was simply too tired and sore to dodge it anyway.
"Showoff." He murmurs, his irrepressible personality struggling to take the stage once more. He leans over and smiles at Laverna in the car. (Incidentally taking cover behind it's large, steel, frame.)
"My Lady seems in good spirits. It's almost as if she were unsurprised at this latest, most regretful, turn of events." Danny observes politely.
"Why, it's almost fortuitous, actually. Winter's interests in the area are maintained. And the potential political landscape upheaval of having Poppies moving into the area is obviously a non-concern for the duration."
"Not to mention Lord Lawrence's reputation, should he survive the unfortunate fire, is in shambles. Allowing a simple treaty negotiation to turn into a complete and utterly predictable boring mortal brawl, and being involved in the fisticuffs instead of trying to prevent them,... tsk tsk. Shameful really." Danny's grin threatens to split his face by now.
"In fact," Danny continues, his mind and mouth both moving full speed now.
"Once the dust settles, I should think that Winter should find it's interests not only protected for the nonce, but find that there is room for considerable growth with little or no interference from outside parties. SOME persons might accuse Winter of planning all of this from the start. SOME persons might even go so far as to accuse Winter of setting up the meeting with the intent to sabotage it from the start."
"How fortunate for My Lady that she has the word of such a stalwart and reliable servant to serve as Witness to Winter's innocence. For no one would dare to insult My Lady, or Summer's Emissary to Winter, by calling them liars. Without proof. Which obviously no one would be able to provide, unless THEY were in on the whole shebang themselves."
Danny shakes his head in amazement. Or maybe he's still trying to clear it from the aftereffects of the blast.
"And I'm willing to bet that certain formerly-secret laboratories are being raided even now, and the secrets of whatever was in that chemical concoction they were trying to produce and ship will soon be 'safe' and out of the hands of vampires and humans everywhere. At least until someone finds a way to make it profitable for Winter."
Danny inclines his head in a slow and sore, but genuine bow.
"So!" Danny pipes happily, glancing at the approaching form of Sal with a relieved grin.
"I'm sorry to say that your entourage has looked better My Lady. With your permission, I should see they are taken care of. Afterwords,... How would My Lady like to celebrate? I can think of a couple of suitably entertaining human customs and venues that My Lady might find enjoyable and worthy of her time? Very,... Human. If your up for it?"
Danny raises an eyebrow.
Laverna raises an eye-brow, it's delicate curve bringing up her soft delectable lips into a smile at Danny's insight. "Exactly, a Summer courtier would corroborate my version...sorry the truth perfectly. And any speculation would simply serve to show that I'm more cunning than any adversary or ally."
Inclining her head; "As for entertainment, well I still have my present..." she brushes a fingernail along the length of Andrew's thigh (who's sat beside her in the car); "...but.....?" she leaves the question hanging, clearly intrigued by these other entertainments.
Danny grins like the Cheshire cat. Although flicker of darkness crosses his face as he sees Laverna brush Andrew's leg, and the reaction it had on the Werewolf.
What IS it with the wolves and the Fae?!?'
But it is only a flicker, and even Laverna's otherworldly senses aren't sure they actually saw it.
"Well, yes. And I'm sure you'd both have a perfectly marvelous time." Danny admits. He doesn't sound jealous. Nope. Not at all.
"But, certain entertainments, while admittedly fun, you can always get. I do believe this particular night offers a chance to see some actual, human, living. See how people unwind. If your up for it." He smiles. An invitation, Not a challenge.
Nope. Not, a, challenge,...
Danny looks weary, and like he'd enjoy nothing better than to pass out.
He certainly didn't have the energy to try keeping up with a party-fae if she decided to insist on a raucous evening.
But emotion, adrenaline, sheer Danny Kaye stubbornness (and heaven-knows-WHAT was in that drink) refused to allow him to back down. And what would happen to Andrew? Odds are, nothing that he wouldn't enjoy bragging about to the pack. But Fae were capricious. Even the 'nice' ones. The werewolf was just as likely to be sent home in the morning wearing a Jeweled collar worth a kings ransom as he was to end up in a cage in Winter for future 'entertainment'.
And he really did have an idea. Now if he could just keep his head from pounding,... he might remember what it was.
Morien barely registers Danny's unspoken compliment; the selkie levelly taking account of the battered group. There would be time for banter. For all that it's covered by her cool demeanor, the fireworks have left her feeling like there's another shoe left to drop.
The ghoul limping away from its encounter with Bunny is mentally tagged and filed. That one would take a while to be feeling quite 'himself' again.
Squealing tires grab Sal's attention, and she can't help but grin at Morien's dramatic entrance. Using the rifle as a prop, she levers herself to her feet and staggers towards the limo, sock-clad feet squelching slightly as the water in her soaked clothing finds the lowest level. She catches her old friend's eye and taps the trunk... boot?... lid, raising the rifle slightly in explanation.
When the lid springs open, Sal flips the safety on the rifle and slings it into the far back of the compartment, wincing as her injured arm swings forward and smacks into the trunk. The sudden rush of pain sweeps tingling through her, bringing beads of sweat to her face.
She flips open the flap on her shoulder holster, jams the pistol into her waistband, and slips off the holster, tossing it in beside the rifle and pulling a folded tarp over the both before slamming the trunk closed. A shiver runs through her as the cool night air chills her soaked clothing.
Relief, cold, and pain combine to beat up Sal's energy level for its lunch money. She staggers towards the front passenger seat of the car, barely able to keep her feet. As she reaches for the handle to open the door, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the highly polished window.
Her good hand to rises her head in shock, gingerly touching the charred fringe remaining. Pain and fatigue are momentarily forgotten.
"My hair!" she wails in horror and dismay.
Morien leans across to pop open the passenger-side door. "You look like hell, Sal. Sit down."
"'M a mess," Sal murmurs, eyeing the leather upholstery, "'ll get your pretty car all dirty." Brushing at her soaked, burned clothing to demonstrate draws a hiss of pain as her fingers skim across a blackened area that turns out to be skin, not cloth, blisters stippling the surface.
"Mebbe I should ride in the trunk," she offers ruefully.
Sal's comment draws an amused squint as Morien hides her concern over just how badly her friend is injured. "We let Tangris ride in here. You'll notice it doesn't smell like goat."
She glances at Sal's damaged arm, worry showing through for a split second. And you sure aren't gonna hang on behind Kenneth like you did on the way here, the selkie adds silently, not with your other arm hanging like that. She couldn't tell what was wrong with it, but even through the remnant of military bearing Sal's posture told her it must hurt something awful. Then Moriens' eyes are back on the humans' face, offering humor as a shield against pain and wounded pride.
"Mmmmm, people unwinding sounds fun." Laverna almost purrs to Danny; "I hear you humans get so wound up about things a release is surely necessary." She taps her lips before rapping on the side of the window to attract Moriens' attention. After waiting for Kenneth & his sister to enter (unless they are going to motorbike away?).
"Drive on... Summers Emissary will instruct you where...."
Danny grandly gestures for Bunny to hop in before him. As she shifts into human form to get comfortable (Danny's eyes bugging only slightly as she wiggles pleasantly) Danny gives a worried frown at Sal. He briefly meets Morien's eyes. His look plainly saying 'Medical first!'
Danny belatedly offers Bunny his jacket, much to the amusement of Laverna. Then closes the door behind him and nods to Morien.
"After we drop our friends off, I have JUST the thing. A two-parter party. You'll love it!" He grins.
"Nothing smells worse than Tangris," Sal snorts, spirit returning for a moment, though she still hesitates briefly. No point delaying further. Getting in was going to hurt like hell, but there weren't any other options. Sighing, she grasps her left wrist firmly with her right and slides onto the front seat of the Ghost. Yep, hurt like hell. She settles her dangling forearm into her lap and reaches across with her good arm to pull the door closed, then again to bring the seat belt across and secure it.
Yep, still hurt like hell.
Involuntary tears of pain streak her sooty face as she deliberately relaxes into the comfortable seat. She welcomes the fatigue, letting it sweep her mind away from the very painful now and into happier memories. Old soldiers never die, they just hurt a lot. She drifts lightly on the edge of consciousness, trying to ignore the aches and burns, but something is nagging at her. Oh, right.
"The Poppy Queen grabbed the detonator from that Lawrence guy," she rasps to the selkie driver, "Pushed the button herself. Those charges were designed to vaporize anything in the room. They worked. There won't even be bodies for the authorities to recover. Nothing but red mist. Aerosolized corpses. Can vamps survive that?" A tiny smile creeps across her face at the memory of the Poppy Queen's startled expression when the holy bullet slammed home, but she doesn't mention that. No telling what Danny's guest knows or would take away from that little incident.
"The Poppy Queen grabbed the detonator from that Lawrence guy," she rasps to the selkie driver, "Pushed the button herself. Those charges were designed to vaporize anything in the room. They worked. There won't even be bodies for the authorities to recover. Nothing but red mist. Aerosolized corpses. Can vamps survive that?"
Danny snorts, too tired to pretend to cover the surprise.
"If they CAN survive that, Then I am taking up a new line of work." He says, his head leaning back against the headrest and eyes still closed.
Man he REALLY hoped that Trip's house was stocked with a room full of tylenol or ibuprofin. Alcohol would work too, but he was afraid that might make him pass out once the adrenaline wore off. And leaving Laverna unattended before fulfilling his promise of a fun night would be,... unpleasant to have to deal with.
He'd pulled all-nighters before. Frequently. He'd be fine. Just as soon as he found that room full of pain-killers,...
Molly leans into her brother slowly, Kenneth can feel her weight and a tiredness radiating from her. There's a soft smell of charred flesh that's not her own.
She leans into his shoulder, against his greater height and softly whispers to him; "Thank you."
From his position looking down at her, he can see a pair of bite marks hidden by the collar of her shirt fade into nothingness.
Once he's sure that Molly's safe, Kenneth quickly steps over to Sal, "This willnae hurt a bit, though it will like be a bit warm.". He draws upon the Fire of the Hearth, filling himself with a rather less warlike aspect of the Flame of Kildare, then whispering, "Ionnlaid", giving focus to the power as it flows from his hands and into Sal, warming her elbow, the Flame washing away the worst of the damage, turning the DISLOCATED ELBOW into a COMBAT HEALED OVEREXTENDED ELBOW .
The bard looks up at Danny and shrugs, "Triage. And I'm thinking I'd best be having a least a wee bit ay juice left in case t'other shae drops."
He steps back as others approach, again surprised by his own reaction as he wraps a protective arm around his sister. He smiles at her statement and says, "Let's get tae somewhere safe afore you thank me...", leading his sister back toward his Commando. He pauses and calls out, "Lead on, Morien, we'll follow."
Under Moriens' hand the Flying Frost seems to do just that, skimming over the road as if barely troubled by matter or momentum. At Sal's words the selkie stares at her in shock - for a bare instant, in which she nearly sideswipes a parked car. Eyes back on the environment, Morien talks right over Danny. "You're telling me that the guest of honor went to all that trouble just to off herself?!" Her voice is quiet, but the incredulity carries. At the next thought, the selkies' eyes narrow. "Did she think Lawrence busted up Ogilvy's lab in Hull? Or the Triads? I could see wanting to take an enemy down with her, before she got too weak from the wasting disease."
No further driving irregularities follow, leaving Kenneth to wonder about what happened.
Sal sighs in relief as the healing washes through her. "Can you fix my hair now, Magic Man?" she asks softly as the tall bard turns back to his sister. Morien's right, no fun bike ride for me tonight. S@$%.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Sal relaxes into the seat as Morien steers the big car through the darkness. At Morien's remarks about the pale vampiress, Sal starts making an odd, choking noise, finally breaking into a real laugh when the selkie is finished. Barely able to speak, she grins at Morien, teeth flashing in the streaks of light sweeping through the huge car. "No... she... she did it... because... because she was... losing! She started a ruckus, threw down on everyone there, and she was about to die," Sal laughs, "She couldn't take it! It was one last, big "f!!~ you" to the rest of us. And she failed!" Sal clamps her mouth shut again, unwilling to say more before strangers, but bursts out into laughter again.
She eventually quiets into occasional fits of giggles that probably don't sound all that healthy. But, hey, at least there's no sobbing.
A slow, predatory grin spreads over Moriens' features as she takes in the new information. Her only comment is a breathed "Ah."
The pale car glides through the Yorkshire countryside like a fragment of moonlight on its way to Trip's manor.
The car glides through the night, being trailed by the comet of Kenneths' bike as it winds through the narrow roads and between verges until it arrives at the small village near Trips manor.
Pulling through the stone gate before the respectable and well-lit house. The front door opens to reveal a well dressed man. The butlers suit clearly shows the pride in his appearance and traditions of the family, though there's a twinkle in his eye. "Good evening all, I took the liberty of getting cook to prepare some victuals. Scotch broth, followed by venison sausages with mashed potatoes, peas, cauliflower. There is a bit of wild mushroom risotto for those that'd prefer."
He notices the golden wolf form of Bunny. "I'll see if I can find some off-cuts for your hound. And your visitor is awaiting in the study."