were u still interested in a biscuit

[vampirique]

Date & Time: Nov. 26, 3312, Evening.
Location: A few blocks 'round the Hold, out on the COLD DEAD STREETS.
Characters: Azrael (vampirique) & Koltira Deathweaver (deadelfwalking)
Summary: Azrael is prowling around looking for some tasty nom noms, Koltira finds him and they abscond into the night and justifiably inquisitions him.
Warnings: Nothing to start, but IT'S A DEAD MAN'S PARTY, so who knows.

It was cold and it was wet outside, though Azrael only noticed one of those things as he stepped out of the lobby of the housing building. With his hair tied back and sitting at the base of his neck in an inoffensive manner and his clothes adventure-appropriate, he began to stalk the streets with ease. It wasn't stalking, really; not in the standard vampiric definition--really he was strolling quietly more than anything, quietly surveying his surroundings as he did.

It seemed relatively quiet outside; something he attributed to the freezing temperatures of the evening, growing only colder as the night wore on. Soon, however, he'd caught sight of someone--a citizen, most likely, not a Transport. That was perfect. It did not take him long to follow them into an alley (why did they always make it easy?), stopping them with a gentle grasp on their shoulder.

In seconds, Azrael had moved them up against the brick of the old building. Pinned them, his mouth mere inches from their neck, a satisfied grin on his face that he could do nothing to wipe away. It was too cold outside for Transports and humans to want to wander about, right? Other than this person, of course. This could only go smoothly.

Comments

[deadelfwalking]

Koltira Deathweaver was not having a good night. Weeks and weeks had passed since he had last raised Byfrost to anyone, since he had last alleviated the ever-present pain that attended him. He felt it acutely as he patrolled the mostly quiet, forgotten pathways of the city, on the look out for anything strange, unusual, or otherwise just not copacetic. A number of threats loomed over the island, with Arthas, of course, being chiefly present in Koltira's mind--but there was the Betrayer and the Banshee Queen, too. More subtly sinister forces were likely at work as well, operating as yet outside of Koltira's notice.

He watched for them all as he walked down street after street, looking into countless empty alleys, abandoned buildings, and ruined, eerily silent lots. Most of the time, his searches revealed nothing more than rubble and dust; scraps of decayed clothing; glass fragments; and occasionally skeletons, both human and otherwise.

But not always. Sometimes, Koltira caught something, and when he saw a fanged stranger about to sink his teeth into some random civilian's throat, he was glad he didn't skip this particular alley.

Hissing as a small, sharp jolt of pain shot through him--they were becoming more frequent and intense, recently--Koltira swiftly closed the distance between himself, this man, and the victim.

"Pardon," he growled through gritted teeth. The runes on Byfrost flared to life, anticipating battle, thirsty for blood. The runeblade's ink-black aura swirled around it like a living, excitable thing, emanating unholy power as it constricted and expanded of, seemingly, its own accord. "But I think you ought to step back."

[spellcastes]

Nothing could have been more surprising to Azrael in that moment save for the victim itself suddenly shifting its form into a monstrous creature of legend than the voice that surprised him in his work. He easily stepped back, with a notable retraction of those elongated fangs; shrinking, not disappearing entirely.

He looked--bothered, interrupted, but not aggressive--not yet. "Does it matter to you?" he asked. His tone was one of both skepticism and genuine curiosity, as he'd stopped to take in this man's features. He was not unlike a vampire himself in his pale pallor; death radiated from him in unusual scents and waves that caught Azrael's attention immediately.

[deadelfwalking]

"Yes," Koltira said, frowning hard at this stranger. Vampires were not an unknown quantity in Azeroth, though they were far more rare than other breeds of undead. Powerful, too. But the Blood Court was comprised mainly of former high elves, and a glance at this one's ears told him that, whoever he was, he was no elf--former or otherwise. "It matters. This city is not a feeding ground."