Logs:Carthians and Shark Week
Carthians and Shark Week
|Characters:||Kinsey, Pan (ST) Coterie: Roses on the Table|
|Summary:||Kinsey gets tapped to rescue a Carthian from certain death. A Hunter gets his breath taken away and Kinsey sees the Discovery Channel in a way she never intended.|
|Disclaimers:||Violence. Gore. Sharks.|
There's been a lot going on tonight before Kinsey got involved. Some shit has gone wrong in a lot of different ways before the text comes. The text does come, though, pinging Kinsey's phone at about 3am on a Thursday night.
Pan: Hey kiddo, 911. I just got a text from a dude named Rodrigo, Movement guy, says he desperately needs help. I'm in fucking Baton Rouge. I need you to get to the Port, Rod says he's on row C, next to box 1142. He says he's badly hurt and out of blood, and there's a mortal with a fucking crossbow, also badly hurt, probably bleeding out, got him pinned down and just waiting for sunrise. Shouldn't be an issue for you, but it's a RIGHT NOW situation. Hope you're topped up.
Having just wrapped up the evening's stream Kinsey was lounging in her beanbag chair with Netflix pulled up on the TV when Pan's text came through. After reading it she re-reads it twice more. Fuck. She really needed to get her own vehicle or something.. and maybe a fake driver's license.. and some driving lessons beyond mimicking what she's seen other people do. It isn't that it's too far to skate, it's just too far to skate when you're in a hurry.
Kinsey: OMW probably owe Prosper another bike he's gonna shoot me you know.
Yeah. It was the only set of keys she knew how to get to, and after yanking on her sneakers, zipping her hoodie and pulling on her leather jacket with its hidden flak plating Kinsey puts her brass knuckles in the pockets, grabs the keys off the wall and hops on the bike that Pan gave to Kinsey to give to Prosper in exchange for the last one she destroyed when going on a rescue mission.
Pan: lol I'd offer you my new one but I'm on it, it's stealth, it just go whirrrrrrr
The Port isn't that far from the house. We're talking literally three minutes on Kinsey's bike, if she drives slow and safe. Ninety seconds tops if she speeds in the complete lack of traffic afforded by it being 3am and there being zero cars on the road between the house and the Port. If she wants, she can park on the road - or sidewalk - and skate once she gets there, which will be much quieter than driving...but probably not as quiet as walking, either.
Once she -does- get there, there might be concern about 'how do I get in', since the port is walled off with barbed wire at the top and a very locked fence. But the fence is open. Kinsey immediately smells blood - and it doesn't take long to realize it's coming from inside the security station, which has its door hanging out and - yep, a pool of blood extending from inside. It's an easy glance in to see the dead guard. One of his arms has been lopped cleanly off, and he's obviously been dragged from outside the station back in, and the arm tossed casually atop him.
For the moment the bike makes it to her destination, or at least close to it, in one piece. No helmet. Just the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up and loose enough that it obscures her face in some shadow. The bike is left parked on the side of the street and she stuffs the keys into her pocket. It's on foot from here for Kinsey who left her skateboard at the house, her rucksack too. She needed it far less often now than she used to.
Upon seeing the open gate Kinsey slows a bit and begins to look around. The young Daeva smells it before she sees anything is wrong. The scent of blood. It's easily followed until the sight of blood itself illuminated on the ground draws her attention to the corpse of a downed security guard. Poor fucker. Kinsey crouches low to the ground as she eases fully around the gate and slips over to the guard house. The girl huddles close to it, peering inside and then scanning her surroundings a second time.. this time trying to pay much closer attention to detail.
'(Kinsey rolls Wits + Composure for a success, then Blood Potency for a success.) (Pan rolls Plausible Deniability for a failure.)'
The good thing about being a vampire in what is surely a highly video recorded facility is that your face doesn't show up on cameras unless you -make sure- it does. It takes concerted effort of will to appear in reflections and on video, and it's one of the first things Pan told her for a reason, as she makes money on the internet and streaming as a cryptid whose face is constantly glitched and blurred would be horrible. So Kinsey's at least safe from having her face show up on cameras when she comes into the scene of a murder, sees a body, and then doesn't call the cops immediately.
It's too far away for Kinsey to hear any heartbeats. It's too far away for her to automatically pick up on blood. But the smell of human blood - and even vampiric vitae - is definitely on the air. If she were to try to follow that smell, she could easily find the source of each. They're not far from one another, in the same direction. There's no audible sound from this far out, though, beyond the background noise of water and the hum of distant cars.
If anything where earlier in the evening she was actively thinking about making sure she showed up on her streams, which took a hell of a lot of practice the last few weeks, she was not actively thinking about how much she didn't want to show up on any cameras or in reflections. She seems to be keeping her hood pulled as much as she can just in case though. For Kinsey who has been getting used to filtering out all kinds of sounds it seems eerily quiet here.
Sneaking? Well, it isn't normally her style. She does her best though as she emerges beyond the guardhouse and begins to follow the trail. It's the smell of human blood that she focuses on in particular. Kinsey knew she needed to get the Carthian she was sent after to safety but she wasn't going to stupidly go to wherever they were pinned down and get pinned down herself. And so the Beast becomes part of the Girl as she walks as quietly as she can; reminding herself of the conversation she and her sire had not that long ago. She was a predator now, and one of her own has been outsmarted by his prey.
'(Kinsey rolls contested stealth, success)'
The source of vampiric vitae actually winds up being -on the way- to the source of human blood. As she works her way through the containers, on row D, she finds the spatter of vampire blood. That source smells of decay the closer she gets, and when she arrives, it turns out to be a severed leg - just below the knee. The leg itself is in an advanced state of decomposition, to the point where it's dry and desiccated, a spear of yellowed bone poking out from pristine-looking jeans and a dirty, scuffed, but relatively new-looking boot where the flesh has withered and withdrawn into the clothes.
Now that she's this close, she can hear a heart beating. There, not far off, behind one of the containers. The smell of human blood is immediate and unmistakable. She could walk toward that smell, zero in on the heartbeat with her eyes closed.
The severed and desiccated leg gives Kinsey pause. Her assumption had been that her fellow Carthian had removed the security guard's arm and while a wolf or bear will gnaw off it's own paw to get out of a trap she doubted very much that they removed their own leg when trying to get away from whatever this mortal was. Kinsey felt a lump in her throat as her dead heart leaps and the seriousness of the situation becomes clear. She'd been hoping to talk her way out of this like Bubblegum had been talked into forgetting things at the Masquerade. Just to be safe Kinsey's hands slip to the small of her back and under her jacket.
Unsheathed are the brass knuckles that Pan had made for her. Brass knuckles that were a modern update to World War I trench knives but with a curved, karambit-style blade that essentially gave Kinsey velociraptor claws at the base of her fists. Her fingers slip into place and she angles the blades up along her forearms to make them less easy to see. Kinsey presses herself against the container walls and cranes her neck as her head looks up toward the top of the container. Was there an easy way for her to get up there without making a noise? She wonders for a moment. With her strength she could jump. That'd probably be loud. Kinsey opts to try and circle behind the scent of human blood her nostrils have honed in on, intent upon looking around the edge of the container's back end to see what she can see.
'(Kinsey rolls contested stealth, fails) (Kinsey spends 1 Vitae to activate Celerity)'
When Kinsey peeks around the corner, it's clear she's been made. It's the shoes. They squeak. She's gonna have to fix that someday.
The man who's caused all this trouble doesn't -look- like much. He's skinny - wirey, maybe, but not strong or powerful looking. He's dark skinned, hair cut short. He's -also- in a hoodie, greyscale urban camo. There's a blood-streaked machete lying next to him, with a quiver of crossbow bolts. And a compound crossbow, aimed up at Kinsey from where he lies on his back, cocked and ready to shoot when she peeks, and time slooooooooooows doooooooown from her rapid use of Celerity.
Its a surreal moment when her eyes focus on the glint of a sharp crossbow bolt. Who the fuck just carries a crossbow around New Orleans anyway? Fucking weirdos. She could almost hear her foster father in the back of her mind. "Baby girl don't ever fight unless y'have to and if you have to, do what?" Make sure they know better than to get up. She feels a rush as the Beasts instincts kick in and blood-fueled speed brings her full around the corner. She feels like she's moving normally and everything else is just.. creeping by.. as she spins on her left foot, swinging her right out and aiming the side/bottom of her foot at the mortal's head. Put him down. Don't let him get up. The Beast puts the full supernatural force of it's blood behind the strike.
'(Kinsey spends 1 Vitae to activate Vigor 3.) (Kinsey rolls brawl, 2 successes for 5 bashing damage.) (Hunter Goon rolls stamina to stay conscious, succeeds.) (Hunter rolls to shoot Kinsey with a crossbow, succeeds. After armor Kinsey takes 1 Bashing.)'
When Kinsey's foot impacts the prone man's head, it'd be very easy to forgive Kinsey for expecting that to be the end. This man is -badly- wounded. He's lost enough blood to make Pan go 'wow maybe this is enough blood, no seriously, I'm full, thanks'. But when Kinsey's foot slams into his cheek, and his head snaps off to the side, he looks -woozy- for a moment, then snarls as he rolls away once, twice, then brings his crossbow up to bear. It's -amazing- that from laying down, he can get the crossbow to his shoulder, aimed, and fired so precisely. It's a testament to his willpower and skill that the bolt hits that ceramic plate -just- above Kinsey's breastbone, maybe an inch or two to the left. There's a space between the ribs there where if she'd not been wearing armor? That bolt would have passed into flesh, pierced through and -maybe- impaled her heart with the arrow's wooden shaft over a teflon-coated steel head.
That's an armor penetrating bolt on a wooden, instead of fiberglass or carbon fiber shaft. Nobody would put that much money into a tip and cheap out on the shaft without a reason to use wood. Like the fact that if you shoot fiberglass through a vampire's heart they get mad. But if you shoot -wood- through a vampire's heart, they fall over.
Rather than reload, the man drops the crossbow and scrabbles for the bloody machete.
'(Kinsey rolls brawl, exceptional success for 9 Lethal)'
In the moments before the bolt hits this is a game. She's a fucking goddess. Vampire Jesus. Her sire is a god. He's just some mortal fuck off weirdo with a crossbow who Johnny Two Fangs, wherever he is, failed to bite correctly. Then.. Kinsey sees the makeup of the bolt splintering off the ceramic plate protecting her heart.
"Fuck YOU, ass-cumstain," Kinsey snarls as the Beast's head rears up in the Girl's hindbrain. It certainly evokes a memory. A gun shot. Warmth that she's incapable of feeling at the moment. But it's fresh. He bolts for the machete and Kinsey bolts for him. Her right fist strikes low and drives the hardened metal of her knuckles into the side of his knee. With deadly precision Kinsey steps behind him and her left hand raises to plunge the curved blade at one end of her fist into the side of his neck and haul him back against her. Instinct, having realized she faces the very real threat of death, brings her right hand up and the curved point of that blade pierces his left carotid and slices to the right.
Ass-Cumstain is dead. He's super fucking dead. What's left of his blood pours out, what's left of the air in his lungs gurgles out into the atmosphere through bloody bubbles, and all that delicious blood just pours out of him and onto the asphalt, where it can't be drunk or used by -anyone-. It's a shame, really, because Kinsey's used a bit of blood.
Kinsey's ears are sharp. So much sharper than a human. So she hears the motorcycles coming for a bit, rumbling down the road. It's just that this isn't anything particularly worrisome until she hears them screech into a turn at high speed and roar down the drive toward the rows of containers.
A voice shouts from down the row, "There's more! I'm here! Ayudame, I'm here!"
The Carthian, Rodrigo.
"Really? No fucking SHIT," Kinsey snaps, nerves getting the better of the kid. She's been in schoolyard fights. Resisted arrest. She crashed one motorcycle into a deranged cripple. The situation she finds herself in is much more intense than any and all of these things and it's gotten to her. She swore her sire had said mortals were easy to deal with, or had she misunderstood? Kinsey shoves the body forward with only a fleeting second to regret not draining him as she dashes toward the other end of Row C. Her eyes scan containers for their numbers while her nose follows the scent of vampiric-blood. "Who the fuck are these guys?!"
The man on the ground is brown-skinned, dark-haired, but Latino where the guy with the crossbow was black. He's in a leather vest that probably -isn't- lined with some high-tech ceramic plating. One of his legs is cut off just beneath the knee, and his other leg has a crossbow bolt through the thigh and another through the calf - both of them through the -bone-, making them hard to remove. He's got a heavy pistol in his hand but he's clearly not going anywhere on his own in anything like a hurry.
When he sees Kinsey, he says: "You're not Conquista del Pan." A pause, and narrowed eyes. "Are you?"
Whether the people on the bikes heard the shouts for help or not, they seem to be killing the engines now. There are six of them, and from inside the row of containers Kinsey can't get a look, yet, but she can hear voices talking. Without her sharpened senses she wouldn't be able to make out the voices, but with them:
Male 1: "His phone GPS says twenty meters that way."
Male 2: "Yeah but he also said the vampire was still alive, so keep your fuckin' eyes peeled."
Female 1: "Alive but just pogo hoppin' around, we'll be fine."
Low laughter from the group, on edge but feigning confidence.
Male 3: "Keep it fuckin' quiet, even a one-legged vampire can turn into a three-legged wolf and rip your fucking throat out."
For a brief moment that feels like an eternity Kinsey considers telling him that she is indeed Conquista del Pan. Instead the short girl gives the guy a look with raised brows that says "really?" as she grunts and pulls the offending wooden crossbow bolt from her left breast. "Yeah, I'm fucking Conquista del Pan," Kinsey scowls as she mockingly lies to him and pokes her right index finger through the hole in her jacket and sure enough she finds her hoodie and shirt have holes, too. She's actually more mad about that than the hole in her tit. "It doesn't matter if I'm fuckin' Santa Claus right now," Kinsey says, dropping her voice as she gives him a once over. "There's six bikers out there about to discover Joe Fuck Face has his neck slit open, we can't fucking stay here." Upon kneeling down she looks from the wounds in his leg to him.. and then back. "Oh.. so don't panic but I saw this on TV once.." Kinsey says as she breaks the tail end off of one bolt and tries to pull it the rest of the way through.
'(Kinsey rolls Wits + Composure, success)'
"-Ow-," the Carthian on the ground hisses. "Look, I don't have the fucking blood to heal it, so it doesn't matter where it is. I can't walk. They're between us and the road. My haven is just past where you killed that mother-fucker with the crossbow and the machete, in one of the containers, but I think they know that, since he came after me here and hit me while I was on my way, but they may not know -which- container. Maybe we could hide."
Is hiding a good idea? Running away? Confronting the six hunters on their way?
Kinsey's ears pick up a sudden whirring sound, and she can track it with a glance upward to a small quad-drone with a camera attached that's just risen into the air, presumably to get an aerial view of the rows of containers. It's dark, so maybe they'll have a hard time spotting them.
Or maybe the camera has night vision. You never know. But what -is- known is that the footsteps are spreading out. Or, at least, four sets of them, in two teams of two. And two staying near the bikes, between the vampires and the gate that leads back to the street - and Prosper's motorcycle.
Kinsey was about to break the end off of the second bolt when Rodrigo lays out his opinion of how things should go. The skateboarding waif reaches out to take Rodrigo's chin and hold his head straight so that he's looking at her eye to eye. "Did they even have hide and seek before you joined the club?" Kinsey asks in a hushed, snarky whisper. "You think they specifically followed you here because they know that your haven is here and they're not going to open up every fucking container here looking for you? Have you got some kinda magic door they can't open or a lawn sprinkler to keep them from setting it on fucking fire?"
The whirr of the drone catches her attention and Kinsey looks up at the ceiling of the container. Fuck. "..Drone," she says. "You need to be more fucking careful. What the fuck is with the shipping container anyway this isn't Tiny House Nation.. the fuck are you gonna do if they load it on a ship and your ass wakes up in fuckin' Australia and they crack it open during the day? Never mind. Fuck." She pulls out her phone and sends a quick text off to Pan that reads: Drones. Six bikers. Steel tipped wooden crossbow bolts. Don't know what to do. Wish me luck. "I don't give a shit if I've got throw your ass into the harbor and drag you across the sea floor we're not staying here," Kinsey says as she loops her arm under Rodrigo's and begins to pull him to his feet. Or rather.. his foot.
"I bound the fucking city commissioner in charge of the fucking port. I live in a fucking three hundred and twenty square foot studio apartment. Sure, it's half the size of a fucking studio but I don't have to shit, or shower off sweat, or waste any room on a goddamn kitchen. I don't need AC or heat. And I don't pay fucking rent. And if something politically horrible goes on? I literally just have my goddamn thrall load my house onto a ship and I go to another fucking city, thrall whoever's in charge of the port there, and I'm fucking set. It's a good setup, I've been doing it for like ten years. They're fucking -hunters-!"
Really, Rodrigo should probably not be defending his choices right now, because there are four hunters moving down the rows. One of them is moving toward the dead hunter. The others are looping out far to Kinsey's right, if she's facing the gate and the exit. If they headed straight toward the gate, they might be able to miss both of the pairs spreading out if they're quiet and fast on their feet. All three of them. If the drone doesn't spot them.
'(Kinsey makes a contested stealth roll, success as defender)'
As Kinsey presses back against the container wall when the drone passes close by she shoots a glare at Rodrigo as if to warn him defending his scheme right now isn't winning him any favors. Kinsey looks out across the port and then looks Rodrigo in the eye. "I have a plan. It's crazy," she says, "but if it works it's gonna be fuckin' brilliant. But I need you to trust me. When my sire needs time alone they often go to the bottom of our pool and wrap up in a tarp. Well.. that's the ocean. You probably don't need a tarp. I put you in the water, you hide at the bottom.. I'll make these guys think you're gone and once they leave I'll get you out and somewhere safe. C'mon." Rodrigo clearly doesn't have a choice in this because Kinsey starts making her way across to the next row, toward the harbor, either helping him or trying to drag his ass.
'(Kinsey makes a contested stealth roll, fails as defender)'
"That's the river," Rodrigo notes. "That is not the gulf."
The Carthian says this as though this were the flaw in Kinsey's plan.
He hops along with her, leaning heavily on her much-smaller frame. It doesn't -look- like it should work, but Kinsey was built pretty solid and strong -before- the embrace, and since she's basically made of brick and mortar. There's no change in the behavior of the drone above, but she can hear the sets of footsteps, two teams of two, converging on her location now. There were no voices spoken, no radio chatter. Maybe they heard her footsteps, or the talking?
The way he says it gives Kinsey pause but she doesn't quite understand. In her mind he's going to sink and sit there like Pan does in the pool. The lack of conversation suddenly gets her attention and she becomes aware that the footsteps were now moving with cautious purpose. Too much talk. Kinsey's mind is racing with legit fear as she gets a better hold on Rodrigo. The girl doesn't even say a word as, with all her strength, she jumps into the water and drags him along with her.
'(Kinsey rolls Strength + Athletics for a success) (Kinsey rolls contested stealth twice, success both times)'
Just as Kinsey and Rodrigo are leaping into the water, the four pursuers dash to where they are, breaking into a sprint as it becomes apparent the vampires are escaping. They're a ragtag group, all of them dressed differently. The four at the shore, before Kinsey drops underwater, are a short asian woman with some kind of small submachine gun, a tall white guy with a crew cut and a military-looking rifle, a black woman with a for-real fuckoff big sword, and a young white girl, maybe -barely- eighteen, who has in her hand, no fucking lie, a slingshot.
Of course the slingshot has an arrow knocked instead of a rock or a metal bullet. One of those teflon and steel headed, wood-shafted affairs. And it's a fancy fucking slingshot, too. God knows what it could have done.
Under the water, everything is chaos. As Kinsey tries to move quietly, to stay under the surface...she hears a slow, steady heartbeat just as some huge -shape- moves past her, off to her left, deeper in the river.
As the dark shape moves past her Kinsey stays very still while holding Rodrigo's broken form tightly. At first her brain tells her to hold her breath but that's silly because she remembers she isn't breathing at all. The short girl remains still until that large shape disappears into the murky darkness and she can no longer hear it's heartbeat before, with vigor-infused strength, Kinsey begins fighting against the currents to make it to the shore. Were she human she would have almost certainly died. Even an olympic gold medallist would have had difficulty fighting the swift undercurrents that threatened to wash both her and Rodrigo out into the Gulf. It's all she can do to guide them back toward the shore as they drift away from the port. Her head pops above water and she spits a mouthful of muddy Mississippi out while grasping hold of a rusted and worn ladder bolted into (a flood wall?) and begins to haul herself and Rodrigo out of the water.
The good thing about swimming downriver is that you can just kind of...not move. The river will take you. Kinsey and Rodrigo sink hard, because they don't have big lungs full of air. The river bumps them against the bottom repeatedly, which sucks because it's slick and gross and occasionally full of rocks and roots and detritus...broken bottles, cans. Kinsey's jacket prockets her from most of it, but what it can't protect her from is how disgusting the water is. Thick and syrupy with both mud and pollution, stinking in a way that invades her nostrils and stings her eyes even without breathing it in. Just that brief glance open-eyed to try and see the horrific monster of a fish that passes her by (eight feet long, torpedo-shaped, oh god) will leave her sensitive eyes burning and blurred for much longer than it takes her to rinse them out. When she and Rodrigo finally do come up to shore, the Carthian immediately complains: "Good fucking god that was -disgusting-!"
Kinsey lets Rodrigo off to the side to deal with himself for the moment while crawling forward on all fours and hack the remnants of disgusting water out of her mouth. Vomit or no she was going to pour Prosper's moonshine in her mouth when she gets home and just sit there with a mouthful of the stuff. Dripping. Reeking. Kinsey lifts a hand to wipe her bangs to the side. "If you don't stop bitching I'm gonna throw you back in," she warns. Kinsey wipes at her eyes but its useless. Everything is soaked and every time she tries to open them they burn and her vision blurs. She blocks off one nostril and then the other as she sucks her dead lungs full of air and then blows it back out through her nose to hopefully clean them out a little. Kinsey tries to open her burning eyes and get some sense of where she is and whether she stood any chance of getting back to the bike.
"I'm not bitching," the Carthian says, immediately.
"Seriously, though," he says, dragging himself up onto the ledge of the concrete section of river edge below the road barrier that keeps folks from veering off the street and directly into the water, "You just saved my life and I -seriously- owe you. Like a lot. I'm Rodrigo. Rodrigo Valesquez, of Clan Nosferatu, at your service." He doesn't -seem- ugly. He doesn't even seem like, scary or creepy, except for the bloodless torn stump of leg he's weirdly fine with. He holds out a still-damp hand to shake. "Like -seriously- at your service."
If Kinsey needed to breathe she would have been panting heavily right then. Since she didn't she was just sort of frozen on all fours for a moment while staring at the concrete as the reality of everything that happened begins to set in. If she weren't teetering on the edge of shock there was surely something smart assed that would have come to mind when he said he was at her service. Instead of snapping at him though Kinsey lifts her right hand and shakes his. "Kinsey Braddock.." she says, adding as an afterthought, "Clan Daeva.." He certainly did not look like what she pictured a Nosferatu to be when Pan and Prosper gave their takes on the clan. Kinsey squints at him through puffy reddened eyes. "..You're welcome, but .. we're not safe yet. You don't have enough blood to heal and wake back up.. I don't know how far from home I am.. and the bike I drove here is a few blocks from the port."
"Oh, shit. You're Pan's new kid, huh? Pretty fucking cold to send a fledgling in their place." And yet, Rodrigo doesn't say anything like 'if I'd known they were gonna send I kid I wouldn't have called'. Because without Kensington Braddock, Rodrigo Valasquez would have met Final Death tonight. "Still, we can solve my walking problem with some blood, you know." Rodrigo gives her an expectant look. A -hungry-, expectant look. "Then we just call an uber and go, you know? Pick your bike up tomorrow. Or have someone else pick it up, even better."
As best she can through puffy eyes Kinsey stares at him warily when he gives her that hungry look. Where does her mind go? To Pan's lecture on diablerie of course. While she didn't think Rodrigo exceptionally clever she didn't trust anyone but her sire with her blood. She didn't trust him not to just try to drain her dry. Her ears focus on a sound near the highway and with pretenatural speed Kinsey snatches up a fluffy ass pigeon and holds it out for Rodrigo as it probably cusses her the fuck out. She doesn't need animalism to know it's pissed.
"...You just burned more vitae to -catch- that fucking bird than I'd get from drinking it. Have you ever eaten a pigeon? I can't -regrow- my leg with a pigeon. I meant, let me drink some of your blood. Just enough to get my leg back so I can hunt on my own. I can't feed from animals anymore anyway, so -you- better drink it." The Nosferatu is giving her -such- a look about expecting him to eat a pigeon. She probably doesn't know it's a Clan Racism thing - Nosferatu being seen as 'rat eaters'. It's not Kinsey's fault that she just did the equivalent of offering a black vegetarian fried chicken.
"..I can't eat it either," Kinsey admits. The look he's giving her though makes her feel somewhat guilty. If she knew what she'd just done she would have felt like shit. Young as she was with only the basic knowledge of his clan she had no idea how much she just insulted him in her childish attempt to keep her blood to herself. "..Alright," she says uncertainly. Kinsey extends her fangs and drags one across her wrist while moving closer to Rodrigo. Precious vitae wells thick along the incision and she extends her arm to hover her wrist just above his lips.
The other vampire raises his hands as she comes close, and then very deliberately puts them behind his back, linking them together. See, not gonna even hold onto your wrist. The vampire tilts his head up to take the blood, and Kinsey will find that as he starts to feed... Nothing. No pain, no panic. No Kiss. Just the sensation of cool lips on her skin, sucking just a bit to draw whatever blood Kinsey wills up to the surface. It's not like any other time she's been fed on. It's not like feeding as a vampire. It's just...normal sensations, and a slow sense of her own stores of vitae lowering.
As Rodrigo puts his arms behind his back it eases her fears considerably. The girl looks slightly less afraid as she wills her blood to the surface and she feels his cool lips on her wrist. It isn't what she expected. No fangs. No sensation. Just a cool touch and that odd feeling of her own reserves lowering. When as much blood as she feels safe giving has flowed into his mouth Kinsey pulls her wrist back and drags her tongue along it to seal the wound she made. She's quite for a moment before attempting to explain. "..Listen," she says. "I'm not.. I've just never done this before."
'(Kinsey spends 4 Vitae to feed Rodrigo)'
"Yeah, well I never drank another vampire's blood before, so we're both of us in new territory. But think of it this way: at least you're not the one of us came out of this with a brand new fucking vinculum on -top- of owing your life to some kid been a vampire like a week." There's an uncomfortable look on Rodrigo's face as he says that, then turns to look down at the stump of his leg. The sound of it is...really, honestly not...pleasant. The bone crackles and starts to grow first, from the marrow outward. Vitae flows outward in little tendrils, building the flesh from the inside out rapidly. It only takes four, five seconds for it to finish its work and he has a brand new leg, toes flexing. He uses the new foot to shove the shoe off of his other foot and into the river, letting the water take it. "I don't wanna be uneven, and no way I'm going back for its partner anyway, so." He pops up to his feet, and reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. He stares at it for a few moments, before looking over at Kinsey. "Any chance -your- phone is waterproof?"
"Hey, it's been.." Kinsey pauses as she does some math, "..like a month." When this is said its with a sense of pride and accomplishment. The addition of a vinculum didn't occur to her. When his leg begins to regrow Kinsey watches with a sort of morbid fascination. She knew that things would regrow in her sleep but when Pan explained that she could heal things that mortals simply couldn't survive the scenario in front of her never once entered her mind. "Fuck," she says, eyes dropping to his other foot as he kicks the shoe into the river.
Phone. "Probably not," she says. "All I had with me was a burner." Kinsey pats her pockets and then pulls the water logged burner phone out of her right jacket pocket. It was cheap. Not even worth buying a case for really. Prosper bought her a stack of them. She holds it up and it definitely didn't survive being submerged in what passes for water in the Mississippi River. Kinsey pulls herself up to her feet. "Fuck me," she says, feeling her shoes squish slightly with whatever muck seeped in. Another pair of Converse ruined.
"Well, shit. It looks like I get to -really- use my new foot." The Nosferatu peels off his sock, tosses -that- into the river, too, and then pushes himself up to his feet, bouncing once or twice as if to test and see if it's good as new. "That's -so- weird," he says, "It doesn't even feel any different from the old one. Not even like...photocopied, you know? Just mine. The exact same one. Fucking freaky, being dead, ain't it?" He nods up the little sloped concrete bank toward the road. "I'm gonna go all Romulan and go steal a phone. Can you get home okay?"
As Rodrigo bounces around then nods toward the road Kinsey brushes her fingers on a section of concrete that looks the least dirty, then she wipes around her burning eyes again and squints down at his foot as he points out the sameness of it. "Sometimes, yeah," she says. "I should be dead. Like.. dead.. dead.. that water." Kinsey looks over her shoulder at the river as it rushes past. She looks vaguely unsettled. In fact she's sort of staring off for a moment until Rodrigo pointedly asks her a question. It catches her attention just enough to make her look over at him. After a moment she nods her head. "Uh yeah. I'll be fine. I'll find someone to give me a ride or something.."
"Okay, you tell your sire I don't owe them -shit-, but I owe you one, Kinsey Braddock, and I'm gonna make sure my friends know it, too. You ever join the Movement, they'll know what you did. You won't just be riding Pan's coattails, okay? You did me a fuckin' -solid-." And with that, the Nosferatu goes 'Romulan'. Which means they disappear from vision...not like Pan, how you just suddenly can't notice them. They just fucking up and turn invisible, inaudible, unsmellable. It's immediate, abrupt, and noticeable.She was about to open her mouth and say something about how she considered herself Carthian she just.. wasn't anyone. Before now at least. However Rodrigo's abrupt disappearance startles her enough that she takes a step back. There's a second she looks at where he /was/ standing and she vaguely reaches out to wave her hand around in front of her and see if he was still there. "..I gotta learn how to do that," she says to herself. How handy would that have been just now. Kinsey takes a moment to wring as much water out of her hood as she can and then pulls it back over her head and begins trudging back toward home. The bike would have to wait. She needed to soak in bleach.