06-18-2017, 08:42 PM
The God and the Pretender entered the safehouse, a rustic building made of stout timbers and wooden beams, something sturdy and log like an old stable with the stalls removed. While Enel had no trouble entering and casting his imperious gaze at the other Primes already crowding it, he failed to notice his partner standing at the door, frozen with a blank look on his face. The god went to a comfortable looking corner and sat down on a cushion, leaning against the wall cross legged with his staff under the crook of his arm, ready to be used at a moment's notice while he rested his divine frame. Hendy barely noticed, since he was in the process of noticing something much more interesting. To him, at least.
Blood.
Fresh Blood.
The girl, the clown he'd seen before, a child wrapped in golden robes, and an old man looking near death. They reeked of it, were covered in it, every one of them marred by vicious combat. The room was rank with the smell of drying life and open wounds.
Without thinking, Hendy ran his tongue over his fangs and sized up the occupants, the curling claw of his Beast settling over his thoughts like a lizard on a rock. The old man looked comatose, he would be easiest. The clown was adolescent and bore a vapid look, but he didn't look human, and his blood was purple. Eurgh. Who knew what that would do to his constitution. The child was likewise, out. Hendy didn't like feeding on children. Reminded him too much of the robber barons and slumlords that had owned his childhood homes. Which left-
The girl. Mmmmmm.....
Blonde. He had a soft spot for blondes, and he could see the hate and vitriol in her eyes, the violence hiding behind her irises. Contrary to widely accepted Kindred ideology, emotions -did- lend certain...flavors...to hot pumping life. Depression and sadness was thick and rich, rife with complexity and aged misery. But anger and violence like the girl's, ooh, that was almost erotically painful, spicy and boiling and piquant, like a fiery curry or southern gumbo. He took a half step towards her, readying his legs to coil and spring upon her before she could react, sink his fangs into her throat and rip the skin open, lay bare her neck and sup his-
NO.
No.
He shook his head, clearing the red fog from his vision. Shit, he'd almost lost it. The cougar blood had sated his urges for the moment, but it was empty and unfilling. No, to wander into a blood feast such as this would be like a recovering alcoholic walking into a free wine tasting. Who could blame the Ravnos?
He averted his gaze from the other occupants and settled in near Enel, leaning against the wall and glaring sullenly at the floor, fingers in his pockets playing with the necklace again. The golden clad child looked towards him and made a token effort to address the pair. "Hello. I am Chak-"
Hendy twisted his head up and fixed him with a piercing stare, the whites of his eyes going a pearlescent black while his irises unfolded into a purple miasma of infinitely splitting fractal shapes, cubic formations of spiky, piercing vistas and foreign dreamscapes swirling in his orbs, a hellish sight that Chakravartion couldn't tear his gaze away from, feeling the pattern repeating itself in his head, driving him to near madness-
Then Hendy blinked, and his eyes were a normal, plain grey. Perhaps....perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by his extended effort in the Colosseum. Yes, that was it.
It had to be.
Blood.
Fresh Blood.
The girl, the clown he'd seen before, a child wrapped in golden robes, and an old man looking near death. They reeked of it, were covered in it, every one of them marred by vicious combat. The room was rank with the smell of drying life and open wounds.
Without thinking, Hendy ran his tongue over his fangs and sized up the occupants, the curling claw of his Beast settling over his thoughts like a lizard on a rock. The old man looked comatose, he would be easiest. The clown was adolescent and bore a vapid look, but he didn't look human, and his blood was purple. Eurgh. Who knew what that would do to his constitution. The child was likewise, out. Hendy didn't like feeding on children. Reminded him too much of the robber barons and slumlords that had owned his childhood homes. Which left-
The girl. Mmmmmm.....
Blonde. He had a soft spot for blondes, and he could see the hate and vitriol in her eyes, the violence hiding behind her irises. Contrary to widely accepted Kindred ideology, emotions -did- lend certain...flavors...to hot pumping life. Depression and sadness was thick and rich, rife with complexity and aged misery. But anger and violence like the girl's, ooh, that was almost erotically painful, spicy and boiling and piquant, like a fiery curry or southern gumbo. He took a half step towards her, readying his legs to coil and spring upon her before she could react, sink his fangs into her throat and rip the skin open, lay bare her neck and sup his-
NO.
No.
He shook his head, clearing the red fog from his vision. Shit, he'd almost lost it. The cougar blood had sated his urges for the moment, but it was empty and unfilling. No, to wander into a blood feast such as this would be like a recovering alcoholic walking into a free wine tasting. Who could blame the Ravnos?
He averted his gaze from the other occupants and settled in near Enel, leaning against the wall and glaring sullenly at the floor, fingers in his pockets playing with the necklace again. The golden clad child looked towards him and made a token effort to address the pair. "Hello. I am Chak-"
Hendy twisted his head up and fixed him with a piercing stare, the whites of his eyes going a pearlescent black while his irises unfolded into a purple miasma of infinitely splitting fractal shapes, cubic formations of spiky, piercing vistas and foreign dreamscapes swirling in his orbs, a hellish sight that Chakravartion couldn't tear his gaze away from, feeling the pattern repeating itself in his head, driving him to near madness-
Then Hendy blinked, and his eyes were a normal, plain grey. Perhaps....perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by his extended effort in the Colosseum. Yes, that was it.
It had to be.
“I don’t wanna be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me.”