For all intents and purposes, it had proved to be quite a bad month for the one called Black Abby. She had grown to hate Rhydin in the small span of time that she had stayed there. Another blasted, blasphemed night found the woman stalking the shadows on footfalls so quiet that even the twigs that littered the ground were afraid to break, lest they incur her wrath. Still, there was something off about the way she moved.
That predatory grace had been replaced by the lumbering gait of an animal wounded in so many places that it had no idea on which side to favor. A stark white bandage with a bloom of dark red forming a ping pong sized spot on the front was wrapped around her head. Something to hide the empty socket where an eye had once been. Her fingers had grown back, the more superficial had wounds healed after a good meal, but it was that eye that had refused to return. It struck a blow to the duality that peppered everything she did.
After the attack from Fleck, Abigail- Abby's meeker personality- had simply shut off. Whispers had faded into barely audible mumbles before finally disappearing altogether. Abby was surprised at the amount of grief that such a loss had inflicted. So, alone and miserable and caught between anger and fear, the Malkavian Prince of Arras forced herself forward. Any day now everything would come crumbling down thanks to an almost commendable betrayal on behalf of Cuyler Quinn. They were coming for her and she wondered- and not for the first time- if Cuyler knew what she had done.
She had sold Abby out to the sycophants that wanted her back in power was a far worse fate than giving her over to the traitors that wanted her head. Still, before it all went down, she had one more person that she wanted to see...
The very gypsy in question was to her disadvantage on her way out of the Glen. He had followed this wretched pattern, Guy did. And before every conversation could really finish, he was gone. And when would Chase see him again? Probably not for another week, or a month easily. That was the way it went. And she remembered that she had made the right choice. These absences were all she needed for her to know the right choice was the one she had stuck with. She was cursed with the horrid virus of ?what if??
Chase was walking through the streets, newly emerged from the Glen and taking the long way home to think things over. A rod of black was between her lips, lit at the end with a red swelling as she walked. It had been a long, rough day. A smoke was in order on the way to that fianc?e.
If one were bored enough, they could attribute anything to anything. Abby had come to recognize scents by the things that they reminded her of and that was why, when a passing breeze carried the stink of that Gypsy to her nose, her broken mind began working. Cloves, late nights and even later mornings. Lemon ball sour and lollipop sweet.
Abby could smell the Ancient on her as well as the mortal fianc? she had given her heart to. And beneath all of it, beneath the soap and the scents that all of that Romani's ilk poured on themselves by accident or otherwise, she smelled copper. A vicious grin lit up the night and she zigzagged off to the left, her head tossed back in a way that sent dull red locks falling pin straight down the length of her back. Her right eye narrowed while the empty hole beneath the bandage tried and like a hound dog giving tongue in the wake of a fox, she followed her nose.
The vibrant Technicolor feast of colorful dreadlocks bounced and chimed as she walked. Another virtual cowbell for that Gypo to be near. And she was feeling very anxious. Like Guy had dreaded, and what Chase had predicted. But he had left her to fend for herself and judging by the adversary she was avoiding, there wasn?t much she could defend herself with. Pointless caution was taken, and she walked without a rush. Perhaps she wasn?t as panicked as she should have been or maybe she thought she would have more time than she actually had. A preoccupied Gypsy meant one that was off guard. There was something about the wind that felt like trouble against her skin. And she glanced to the moon. She held a talisman in her finger; one of her many rings. It matched the moon?s wink and she kept walking. Chase had her tiny tools of magic and a lot of martial arts experience, and that was all. The coin was spinning in the air, like the calm before the storm, waiting to strike.
"Little pig little pig, let me in."
Gone was that superficial cheerfulness from Abby?s voice that had once kept that viciousness hidden. The words were half sing-songed, half growled as she weaved her way from the shadows to a spot that lay a good ten feet behind the Gypsy. Most of her weight rested in a tilt of her body to the left, but every few seconds she shifted, restless, as if something were missing. Something besides her eye. It was a game of cat and mouse that Abby was growing tired of.
There had once been joy at the thought of tormenting Chase but all of that had been replaced with the misguided need to blame her misfortune on someone other than herself. She straightened herself up or at least attempted to, only to have one leg slowly slide away from the other. The redhead looked as if at any moment she would topple over despite how high she held her head in the air.
"Hello again, buddy."
Chase stiffened and stopped abruptly. That greeting was all but fond and the air grew still and cogestingly stiff.
?I heard someone told on ya and put ya in time out..?
Chase took a step back and rotated her ring in a sliding push. It was a minor defense. But it was still something.
?You look gorgeous.?
But when it came down to it, the fear was smothered by that showmanship of bravery that Chase was infamous for. She grinned at the face of danger that in this case was known as Abigail Dekker. The Gypo crossed her arms. This kind of crippling fear was better than any shot. Facing her death for the millionth time was just another round.
Chase could only hope that Abigail was still somewhere in there. Abigail. Everyone loved Abigail. Sweet little Abigail. Bashful little squeaker. Abby flinched as if struck by some invisible blow, her shoulder jerking forward. There were no sharp tongued retorts, no simpering faux sunshine-y giggles. Without a word and with only the soft raspy whisper of her skirt brushing against her calves to signal that she had even moved, Abby took to her feet. Beaten and broken, angry and scared, all of it combined to make her death on ten toes. Bare feet barely touched the ground as she rushed toward Chase, one arm shooting out to snare her waist while the other aimed a blow at her chest.
Chase, that poor funkadelic gypo, darted for naught. And the slamming crash of her back against Abby?s abdomen felt like being catapulted into a wall. The tanned skin rippled from the collision, and her body almost cracked like a whip in the collision of crashing plague of impact. Eyes stayed stark wide with horror and fury. The shattered gazes of those fiery eyes even paused in the coursing of colors that surged along her insides. The woman was bound by limbs of the godliest speed and began to cough and cry out a single time with pain before a horrible grin was on her face.
?Oh, this then? I see.?
She had bitten her lip when her teeth clattered together in a scissoring chomp, and Chase spat out blood.
?That?s it, mate. Take it out on me, y?bloody beast.?
But still, the woman struggled against that devastating strength that made Chase?s elevated state of health equal to the force of a popsicle stick.
Feeding from the struggling mass of tan limbs and wild hair in her arms wasn't something that Abby wanted to to do. Chase was marked and Abby had found that out the hard way when her teeth had bitten down last time. What a surprise it had been to find blood as rotten and as thick as city sewage. Her embrace on the Gypsy tightened and the added pressure would have been enough to crack a few, if not all, of the girl?s ribs had Chase been completely mortal. Still, the limb belted around Chase's neck grew slack while its twin constricted still, and she helped herself to a fistful of multi-colored dreads. Her mouth hovered less than a few inches from Chase's ear, her breath reeking of copper and rot. Abby gave the hair she held a vicious tug and whispered out with a raspy voice.
"I may as well have some fun before they come and get me, huh?"
Chase would try to speak, but instead cried out as her hair was wringed so ferociously yet somehow managed to remain attached to her head. The constriction was tormenting and her bones were vocal with the damage dealt to them in horrific tale-telling cricks and cracks that suddenly made crying out very difficult. Her arms groped that loosened area for that neck as she struggled to breathe for too many reasons. That stench had her wince and turn away as far as that grip on her hair would allow.
?Y?wantta have fun, y?say? Try somethin? that won?t leave a bad taste in y?mouth.?
She wasn?t begging, but taunting the fact that her blood no longer held its godly pureness of having ethereal DNA added to the cocktail of what coursed through Chase?s veins.
?Way?ta celebrate y?last breaths?a free air with the sh*ttiest drink y?ever will ?ave.?
The Gypo was grinning. ?Go ahead an? waste y?last moments here in Rhydin.?
In the moments before she had begun her hunt, Abby had only the time to find the most primitive of weapons. A pair of scissors stolen from a little wicker sewing basket were tucked into the belt wrapped around her waist. She released Chase's hair, her lips brushing against the Gypsy's ear, faux breath panting out something that bordered between wanton and murderous. Nimble fingers freed those scissors, and she brought them to Chase's cheek, and just a few inches from her nose she opened and shut them with a telltale 'schnick.'
"Who said I wanted a drink, Chase?"
Chase?s eyes widened. That pair of scissors may as well have been a sharpened cutlass held over her face. The Gypo?s eyes went crossed as the blades snipped together and she wrenched her body viciously backwards.
?Everybody owes, an? everybody pays. Y?ll pay when they catch ya, y?beast. Blood?s colder than an ice cap.?
She still writhed in Abby?s grasp and tried to pry that face as far away from those scissors as humanly possible. Cracked ribs made that distance very small, as well as the vampire?s grip on Chase?s torso. She struggled with grunts and determined yelps that were gruff and forceful.
Every blow dealt out by the struggling Romani's head was absorbed. The aching bloom of a shattered nose melted with the pain she already felt and what tiny bit of humanity that Abby had left was slowly slipping away. She finally let up on Chase's torso, but like a cat cruelly tossing a poor doomed mouse into the air only to catch it again, she wrenched Chase's hair back. Quick, quick and the point of those scissors was pressed into the skin just beneath the Gypsy?s right eye. Just hard enough to draw blood to the surface.
"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Chase. And what are you paying for, hmmm?"
The metal tip was drawn down her cheek toward her jaw line, leaving a trail of rancid crimson in its wake. Abby was cracking. Everything was falling apart so swiftly that her already dotty mind had been blasted to the corners of the world.
?Whose to say the world isn?t already blind??
Chase was grinning but still in extraordinary pain from the damage dealt. Hair was freed, met with a groan of drowsy relief until pulled all over again to make a shriek. The woman stiffened to attention when that blade was put beneath her very eye. And the eye closed quickly out of reflex. The pressure made Chase?s mouth part but not much more. Any movement too sharp could lead to more red ink spreading on her face. Chase grunted and groaned as the blade broke delicate pretty skin and brought more of that poisoned blood coursing out of the light.
?Y?don?t give a damn about any?a that, y?blood suckin? ghost. Y?just waitin? to be a scary ghost story ?round the fire..?
Chase stood her ground even as the pain stacked and stacked from all
over.
Abby laughed like a wounded animal caught in a bear trap. None of this was bringing her the satisfaction she wanted, but it would get her through the night. Every shriek and groan that rolled off of Chase's lips was met with a vicious grin, replete with far too many teeth. She ran her fingers through those knotted locks of multi-colored hair only to wrap the ends tight around her fist.
She bent a leg between them and placed a foot flush against the small of Chase's back.
"I don't know about anyone else," she snarled, "but I know you'll sure as hell remember me."
The beaklike blades of the scissors sliced through those ropes of hair. Jagged and uneven. It was childish and it was cruel and Abby couldn't have cared less. When she was finished, and with a handful of dreads no longer attached to the Gypsy's head, she nudged her toward the ground with the foot still planted at the base of her spine.
"Lets see if that old bastard'll like you now."
That predatory grace had been replaced by the lumbering gait of an animal wounded in so many places that it had no idea on which side to favor. A stark white bandage with a bloom of dark red forming a ping pong sized spot on the front was wrapped around her head. Something to hide the empty socket where an eye had once been. Her fingers had grown back, the more superficial had wounds healed after a good meal, but it was that eye that had refused to return. It struck a blow to the duality that peppered everything she did.
After the attack from Fleck, Abigail- Abby's meeker personality- had simply shut off. Whispers had faded into barely audible mumbles before finally disappearing altogether. Abby was surprised at the amount of grief that such a loss had inflicted. So, alone and miserable and caught between anger and fear, the Malkavian Prince of Arras forced herself forward. Any day now everything would come crumbling down thanks to an almost commendable betrayal on behalf of Cuyler Quinn. They were coming for her and she wondered- and not for the first time- if Cuyler knew what she had done.
She had sold Abby out to the sycophants that wanted her back in power was a far worse fate than giving her over to the traitors that wanted her head. Still, before it all went down, she had one more person that she wanted to see...
The very gypsy in question was to her disadvantage on her way out of the Glen. He had followed this wretched pattern, Guy did. And before every conversation could really finish, he was gone. And when would Chase see him again? Probably not for another week, or a month easily. That was the way it went. And she remembered that she had made the right choice. These absences were all she needed for her to know the right choice was the one she had stuck with. She was cursed with the horrid virus of ?what if??
Chase was walking through the streets, newly emerged from the Glen and taking the long way home to think things over. A rod of black was between her lips, lit at the end with a red swelling as she walked. It had been a long, rough day. A smoke was in order on the way to that fianc?e.
If one were bored enough, they could attribute anything to anything. Abby had come to recognize scents by the things that they reminded her of and that was why, when a passing breeze carried the stink of that Gypsy to her nose, her broken mind began working. Cloves, late nights and even later mornings. Lemon ball sour and lollipop sweet.
Abby could smell the Ancient on her as well as the mortal fianc? she had given her heart to. And beneath all of it, beneath the soap and the scents that all of that Romani's ilk poured on themselves by accident or otherwise, she smelled copper. A vicious grin lit up the night and she zigzagged off to the left, her head tossed back in a way that sent dull red locks falling pin straight down the length of her back. Her right eye narrowed while the empty hole beneath the bandage tried and like a hound dog giving tongue in the wake of a fox, she followed her nose.
The vibrant Technicolor feast of colorful dreadlocks bounced and chimed as she walked. Another virtual cowbell for that Gypo to be near. And she was feeling very anxious. Like Guy had dreaded, and what Chase had predicted. But he had left her to fend for herself and judging by the adversary she was avoiding, there wasn?t much she could defend herself with. Pointless caution was taken, and she walked without a rush. Perhaps she wasn?t as panicked as she should have been or maybe she thought she would have more time than she actually had. A preoccupied Gypsy meant one that was off guard. There was something about the wind that felt like trouble against her skin. And she glanced to the moon. She held a talisman in her finger; one of her many rings. It matched the moon?s wink and she kept walking. Chase had her tiny tools of magic and a lot of martial arts experience, and that was all. The coin was spinning in the air, like the calm before the storm, waiting to strike.
"Little pig little pig, let me in."
Gone was that superficial cheerfulness from Abby?s voice that had once kept that viciousness hidden. The words were half sing-songed, half growled as she weaved her way from the shadows to a spot that lay a good ten feet behind the Gypsy. Most of her weight rested in a tilt of her body to the left, but every few seconds she shifted, restless, as if something were missing. Something besides her eye. It was a game of cat and mouse that Abby was growing tired of.
There had once been joy at the thought of tormenting Chase but all of that had been replaced with the misguided need to blame her misfortune on someone other than herself. She straightened herself up or at least attempted to, only to have one leg slowly slide away from the other. The redhead looked as if at any moment she would topple over despite how high she held her head in the air.
"Hello again, buddy."
Chase stiffened and stopped abruptly. That greeting was all but fond and the air grew still and cogestingly stiff.
?I heard someone told on ya and put ya in time out..?
Chase took a step back and rotated her ring in a sliding push. It was a minor defense. But it was still something.
?You look gorgeous.?
But when it came down to it, the fear was smothered by that showmanship of bravery that Chase was infamous for. She grinned at the face of danger that in this case was known as Abigail Dekker. The Gypo crossed her arms. This kind of crippling fear was better than any shot. Facing her death for the millionth time was just another round.
Chase could only hope that Abigail was still somewhere in there. Abigail. Everyone loved Abigail. Sweet little Abigail. Bashful little squeaker. Abby flinched as if struck by some invisible blow, her shoulder jerking forward. There were no sharp tongued retorts, no simpering faux sunshine-y giggles. Without a word and with only the soft raspy whisper of her skirt brushing against her calves to signal that she had even moved, Abby took to her feet. Beaten and broken, angry and scared, all of it combined to make her death on ten toes. Bare feet barely touched the ground as she rushed toward Chase, one arm shooting out to snare her waist while the other aimed a blow at her chest.
Chase, that poor funkadelic gypo, darted for naught. And the slamming crash of her back against Abby?s abdomen felt like being catapulted into a wall. The tanned skin rippled from the collision, and her body almost cracked like a whip in the collision of crashing plague of impact. Eyes stayed stark wide with horror and fury. The shattered gazes of those fiery eyes even paused in the coursing of colors that surged along her insides. The woman was bound by limbs of the godliest speed and began to cough and cry out a single time with pain before a horrible grin was on her face.
?Oh, this then? I see.?
She had bitten her lip when her teeth clattered together in a scissoring chomp, and Chase spat out blood.
?That?s it, mate. Take it out on me, y?bloody beast.?
But still, the woman struggled against that devastating strength that made Chase?s elevated state of health equal to the force of a popsicle stick.
Feeding from the struggling mass of tan limbs and wild hair in her arms wasn't something that Abby wanted to to do. Chase was marked and Abby had found that out the hard way when her teeth had bitten down last time. What a surprise it had been to find blood as rotten and as thick as city sewage. Her embrace on the Gypsy tightened and the added pressure would have been enough to crack a few, if not all, of the girl?s ribs had Chase been completely mortal. Still, the limb belted around Chase's neck grew slack while its twin constricted still, and she helped herself to a fistful of multi-colored dreads. Her mouth hovered less than a few inches from Chase's ear, her breath reeking of copper and rot. Abby gave the hair she held a vicious tug and whispered out with a raspy voice.
"I may as well have some fun before they come and get me, huh?"
Chase would try to speak, but instead cried out as her hair was wringed so ferociously yet somehow managed to remain attached to her head. The constriction was tormenting and her bones were vocal with the damage dealt to them in horrific tale-telling cricks and cracks that suddenly made crying out very difficult. Her arms groped that loosened area for that neck as she struggled to breathe for too many reasons. That stench had her wince and turn away as far as that grip on her hair would allow.
?Y?wantta have fun, y?say? Try somethin? that won?t leave a bad taste in y?mouth.?
She wasn?t begging, but taunting the fact that her blood no longer held its godly pureness of having ethereal DNA added to the cocktail of what coursed through Chase?s veins.
?Way?ta celebrate y?last breaths?a free air with the sh*ttiest drink y?ever will ?ave.?
The Gypo was grinning. ?Go ahead an? waste y?last moments here in Rhydin.?
In the moments before she had begun her hunt, Abby had only the time to find the most primitive of weapons. A pair of scissors stolen from a little wicker sewing basket were tucked into the belt wrapped around her waist. She released Chase's hair, her lips brushing against the Gypsy's ear, faux breath panting out something that bordered between wanton and murderous. Nimble fingers freed those scissors, and she brought them to Chase's cheek, and just a few inches from her nose she opened and shut them with a telltale 'schnick.'
"Who said I wanted a drink, Chase?"
Chase?s eyes widened. That pair of scissors may as well have been a sharpened cutlass held over her face. The Gypo?s eyes went crossed as the blades snipped together and she wrenched her body viciously backwards.
?Everybody owes, an? everybody pays. Y?ll pay when they catch ya, y?beast. Blood?s colder than an ice cap.?
She still writhed in Abby?s grasp and tried to pry that face as far away from those scissors as humanly possible. Cracked ribs made that distance very small, as well as the vampire?s grip on Chase?s torso. She struggled with grunts and determined yelps that were gruff and forceful.
Every blow dealt out by the struggling Romani's head was absorbed. The aching bloom of a shattered nose melted with the pain she already felt and what tiny bit of humanity that Abby had left was slowly slipping away. She finally let up on Chase's torso, but like a cat cruelly tossing a poor doomed mouse into the air only to catch it again, she wrenched Chase's hair back. Quick, quick and the point of those scissors was pressed into the skin just beneath the Gypsy?s right eye. Just hard enough to draw blood to the surface.
"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Chase. And what are you paying for, hmmm?"
The metal tip was drawn down her cheek toward her jaw line, leaving a trail of rancid crimson in its wake. Abby was cracking. Everything was falling apart so swiftly that her already dotty mind had been blasted to the corners of the world.
?Whose to say the world isn?t already blind??
Chase was grinning but still in extraordinary pain from the damage dealt. Hair was freed, met with a groan of drowsy relief until pulled all over again to make a shriek. The woman stiffened to attention when that blade was put beneath her very eye. And the eye closed quickly out of reflex. The pressure made Chase?s mouth part but not much more. Any movement too sharp could lead to more red ink spreading on her face. Chase grunted and groaned as the blade broke delicate pretty skin and brought more of that poisoned blood coursing out of the light.
?Y?don?t give a damn about any?a that, y?blood suckin? ghost. Y?just waitin? to be a scary ghost story ?round the fire..?
Chase stood her ground even as the pain stacked and stacked from all
over.
Abby laughed like a wounded animal caught in a bear trap. None of this was bringing her the satisfaction she wanted, but it would get her through the night. Every shriek and groan that rolled off of Chase's lips was met with a vicious grin, replete with far too many teeth. She ran her fingers through those knotted locks of multi-colored hair only to wrap the ends tight around her fist.
She bent a leg between them and placed a foot flush against the small of Chase's back.
"I don't know about anyone else," she snarled, "but I know you'll sure as hell remember me."
The beaklike blades of the scissors sliced through those ropes of hair. Jagged and uneven. It was childish and it was cruel and Abby couldn't have cared less. When she was finished, and with a handful of dreads no longer attached to the Gypsy's head, she nudged her toward the ground with the foot still planted at the base of her spine.
"Lets see if that old bastard'll like you now."