Private Tales Clashing Fangs

[Fallon]

Fallon's wild gaze fixed on the woman's face, her eyes solid and bright, the lustrous colour of a polished shard of metal with swirls of glittering onyx black, and right now they were a storm that reflected the sheer chaos in her mind. She had noticed the red of Victoria's eyes already, the usual case for her kind, but this close to her she looked all the more like Olivia and she expected to see a sparkling green gaze look back at her. She was wrong, but somehow not entirely disappointed as eyes the colour of crimson shone back at her like rubies, daring her to be brave enough to fall into their depths, but she sneered and took a step back from her before she could.

Fucking leech..

Fucking, beautiful leech..

"What does that matter?" her shoulders rolled irritably, and still she made no effort to hide her naked flesh , apparently unfazed by the cold air or dripping water that was quickly evaporating to a fine mist as her temperature rose once more.

Kill this abomination before she kills you..

She helped me..

"Why won't you leave?!" Fallon let out a low, guttural growl in frustration and began to pace, staring at her as though the woman was behind some invisible wall, restricting her from hurting her despite desperately wanting to. Fallon was always so sure, she wasn't used to the internal conflict, and it both enraged and intrigued her at the same time.

She looks so much like her..

"O'Connor. Olivia Victoria Jane O'Connor." her jaw clenched as the words caused her throat to ache. "Now, I'm going to turn and walk away, and you're going to leave and choose a different road.." she glared and her jaw clenched as she took another step back to turn on her heels, another brave move, or was it foolish?

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

The name struck her like a hammer, and she watched Fallon turn in silence. Only the sound of the river cut the tension, and she watched the werewolf’s body turn and move like quicksilver in the moonlight. Gods... this woman could snap her in half... why the hell was that appealing?

O’Conner. Her name. Olivia Victoria Jane. More family names. Yet in spite of their familiarity, Fallon’s answer did not give her an answer. She had expected one of two results. If the blonde had said Olivia Montblanc, the name of her sister’s husband, then the possibility of relation was there. If she said an unfamiliar name it had all been a coincidence.

Fallon had presented a third option: O’Connor. The name of her father, her name. Her parents had no sons... no one to carry on the name, so why did her doppelgänger bear it??

It was unsatisfying, as frustrating as getting her teeth into a neck and being unable to drink. She felt so close to an answer, and yet more confused than ever. To add to this, she couldn’t keep her eyes above waist level as Fallon turned away.

She knew the wolf was dangerous, she had felt it in the air. This was not an ordinary halfbreed... there was something much more pure about her... much older. Victoria wasn’t entirely sure why she had been given so many chances as it was. The resemblance to the dead lover had bought her time but she could not say how much.

She wanted to speak. She wanted to explain. She wanted to learn more, and was about to do so when a howl broke through the silence from afar. Victoria could not tell if it was another lycanthrope or an ordinary wolf, but she would not stay to find out. She turned and ran as quickly as her injuries would allow.

If Fallon happened to turn before Victoria left, she might see the lookin the Vampire’s eyes just before she ran, and the plea they conveyed.

Find me.

 

[Fallon]

The Garou tried desperately not to look back, but she could feel the woman's eyes on her, and whether out of anxiety or curiosity, perhaps a little of both, she turned and looked over her shoulder at the woman watching her before she turned to run.

Three large wolves had come to greet her, and as one of the more zealous males had intended on following the scent of the vampire, Fallon stepped in front of him and directed him back in the direction of home.. "She's gone." she growled irritably, and the wolves flanked her as she walked.

She was fussed over when she arrived back at the Caern, her wounds were healing but it didn't take an empath to see that she wasn't quite herself, and she refused to go into detail about the night's events. A vampire had bested her, and during a fight with a wendigo the woman had fled. Lying didn't sit comfortably with her, but her fabricated defeat gave her acceptable cause to be broody and the others stopped asking questions for fear or riling her.

What had she done?

Everything she stood for, every lesson she taught, every wolf she'd lost to their kind. Her entire life's work, all undone for a single vampire with a face that haunted her, with skin like a fresh snowfall and eyes a coruscate gleam of pure wildfire, reckless and untamed but entirely captivating. She couldn't get that face out of her mind, even as she slept the woman was there, walking toward her with a soft smile that softened her features. Fallon had been waiting for her, and she smiled back, when from behind her wolves charged at the vampire and sprung into attack only to be swiftly cut down with silver, fang and that crushing grip that snapped necks. Fallon couldn't move, she couldn't do anything to stop it, and as she looked down at the sea of dead wolves, her eyes snapped open and she pulled in a sharp gasp of air as she sat bolt upright in a cold sweat and panting for air.

What had she done?...

Silently, as the others slumbered around the caern, she stripped and packed her clothes in a small sack, and wandered out into the darkness, ignoring the small flurry of snow that so often fell this high in the mountains of the spine. She returned to the wreckage of the carriage and ran her fingertip over the broken shard of wood soaked in the vampire's congealing blood and stared down at it when she noticed the rag the woman had torn from her clothes. She picked it up and pressed it to her nose to inhale before stowing it away.

She has to die...

She took off at a run as she tracked the scent, and clasped the sack between her teeth before bursting mid-leap into the form of an arctic wolf, the disturbing sound of snapping bones echoing through the silence. She wouldn't stop running, whether it took her hours or days, she couldn't rest again until the vampire was dead.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

Victoria hated this place. She hated these woods, she hated these mountains and their stupid tiny goat-trails and their jutting rocks and treeroots. Once she would have found the alpine forests beautiful, but she had neglected the natural splendor of the world for some time now. There was too much to do within civilization, too many stones needed to restore the castle, too many hands needed to move them. The coven she'd been with had been small and splintered decades ago, and that was just as well. She would build her own court, restore her name to glory and her countryside to its former grandeur.

Her name... she thought she had been the last to bare it. She thought it was her task alone to rebuild. What did it mean if there were others? Nothing... it should mean nothing. None of them had claimed the titles or the lands. None of them had tried to escape from obscurity and back into their rightful place. Maybe it was completely unrelated. O'Connor was not a common name in this part of the world but... maybe?

But the resemblance... the immediate recognition from the woman. That horrible, magnificent woman. What if she did have surviving relatives? What if she had family? Victoria wasn't sure if she wanted this all to be a coincidence or not. After all, she knew what she was, and how her hypothetical "family" would receive her.

These thoughts continually swirled in her mind, each looping back on one another like a maelstrom of uncertainty and none able to escape to a resolution. It helped to dull the pain from the wound in her torso that still freshly dripped, and it whittled away the hours as the night sky began to fade to grey.

The wind blew against her, bringing nothing but the scent of pine and ice. The cold did not phase her, and she brushed the scant snowflakes from her face. They did not melt upon her skin.

She could sense the light approaching. The fortress was still far, and she needed to find shelter. It had to be somewhere that could shield her from all angles where she could sleep safely. "Where's a bloody cave when you need one?" she muttered to herself.

Victoria did not find a cave. What she did find was even more degrading: a large tree with a knot of tangled roots at its base, the largest thicker than she was. In between the tangle, at the base of the trunk. was a dark opening. Perhaps an animal had dug it out, or maybe rain and wind and ice had carved it. Victoria grimaced, but the eastern sky had begun to fade to pink. She was out of time.

Crawling on all fours, she pulled herself into the cavern. It was surprisingly spacious, enough for at least four or five people to rest comfortably, if not cleanly. Dirt now marred her bloodstained skin, and she saw with perfect clarity through the pitch darkness now pitiful she looked.

She huddled up to the side, drawing her legs in to her chin, and began to fume. Or at least that is what she had planned to do. Her trip had been ruined: carriage destroyed, servants murdered, her dress was beyond repair and she had been seriously injured. And oh yes! A disgusting, beautiful, barbaric, beguiling, werewolf had attacked her and confused her with stories about old flames.

It was the stories that occupied her now, and as she drifted off to sleep, she imagined what it might have been like to be this Olivia the lycanthrope had spoken of. Maybe she had been human. An innocent girl lured into the woods by a charming stranger? Sounded familiar. The moonlit image of Fallon's body had been burned into her. How would that beast have wronged her? How would she have... taken her... in her helpless, mortal form?

 

[Fallon]

Even under a sky of perfect midnight velvet, under stars so brilliant they drew the eyes heaven bound and a crescent moon that smiled down upon her, the wolf couldn't be soothed as she normally would have been. There was nothing like running like this, on a night like this, clear, cold, calm. It was the most free she could feel, and yet it done nothing to wash the trouble from her mind and even as she propelled herself forward, claws tearing up the earth and scattering it behind her, a part of her wanted to skid to a halt and turn back.

The internal conflict raged in her mind and yet she continued to track and run and convince herself that leaving the vampire alive was a bad idea. It had been a trick of the mind. They could do that. She hadn't really looked that much like Olivia, her mind had simply been warped to what she'd wanted to see. She'd certainly got into her head, there was no denying it.

The woman's scent grew stronger and Fallon slowed to a trot as she pulled at the icy air and lowered her nose to the ground. The white wolf stopped and lifted her wild, silver stare to the tangled roots in which the vampire had apparently taken shelter. The snow was growing thicker, and for a time Fallon stood, letting it gather and melt in her fur, the plumes of breath huffed from her nostrils and the occasional flick and pivot of her ears the only signs of life. She was still, waiting with the uncertainty of a predator weighing up her probability.

Slowly, Fallon stalked closer to the tree, circling around the outside of the root until she found an opening only just wide enough for her to fit through. She moved slow, stealthy.. soundless until she stood over the woman curled in the dirt, trying not to pay attention to her face and see her as nothing more than the vermin that she was. She pulled in a breath, and her lips drew back over her teeth, and hesitated.

She has to die..

And with that final demand, the thought of the nightmare that had awoken her and the vivid memory of her fallen pack, Fallon let out a monstrous snarl as she opened her jaw and threw her head downward to bite into the woman.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

The sky continued to turn lighter, though it was barely perceptible from beneath the tree. Victoria was doing her very best to not think about her current predicament. If she did, she might just step into the morning light all on her own.

...well of course not really but this seemed to her like a good time to be dramatic.

She tried to ignore how hard the dirt was and how filthy she was. Why had she not stepped into the river when she had the chance? She could have done so for a moment after leaving the werewolf's sight. Better yet, why had she not killed the werewolf when she had turned her back?

She is my only lead, she thought, but a lead to what, exactly? A woman who shared her name and likeness? Maybe a very distant relative? Then what? She was dead, there was no one to find. Better to kill the lycan and these foolish dreams along with her.

Her eyelids grew heavy. The hole in her stomach was draining her as it mended, now about half as large as it had been just hours ago. She was getting hungry, too. The way her night was going, though, she'd probably have to resort to feeding on animals, and she wrinkled her nose at the thought.

She shut her eyes, lay down on her side still holding her knees. No use clinging to dignity now, but at least no one could see her. A dreamless sleep took her.

A snarl awoke her, and her jolt of fright moved her just enough so that her neck was not torn apart. She screamed a piercing, gurgling scream as the wolf's teeth snapped her collarbone and tore through her shoulder. In an act more of instinct than rational thought, she once again faded into a thick fog, wisping past Fallon's shining teeth and coalescing behind her at the opposite wall of the tiny cavern.

She looked to the exit, and to her horror, saw sunlight trickle through it. She was trapped. Trapped underground with this monster. Her right arm hung limp and useless. Her hair was plastered against her in a nest of blood and dirt. She looked, more than ever, like the walking corpse she was.

Her rapier lay on the ground where she had been sleeping, she had not thought to pick it up in her panic. It was her only chance, and she looked at the wolf without any attempt to hide her feelings. She was afraid.

Afraid to die.

Again.

Suddenly her expression changed, and with fangs bared she rushed at Fallon with as much speed as she could muster and went to hook her fist into the side of her head. If she could at least disorient her opponent long enough to grab her weapon, she might stand a chance.

 

[Fallon]

The wolf’s jaw clamped down with the intent to maim, sever.. kill. Fangs melted easily through skin and muscle and crunched into bone before they snapped together, leaving nothing but the coppery taste of blood that dripped from her muzzle, as though the earth had called for tribute and gravity guided the trip. A violent snarl of frustration ripped from her lungs as she stared down at nothing and her head whipped around in search of the vampire..

Shit. She needed a kill shot, she had it, and it'd slipped through her teeth. She turned and settled her dilated pools on the bedraggled woman, poised to attack with her head bowed low, ears flat against her skull and her glossy fur thick and bristled full around her hackles. The wolf's nose wrinkled as her bloody teeth were displayed once again in warning, and her tongue licked at the rivulets of blood that blushed her pale fur with a rosy pink tint.

Her gaze followed her toward her exit, and she too had noticed the growing light, the woman wouldn't get far. One of them would die here.. Victoria's fear was evident. In her eyes, in her body, in the very way she smelled. It caused a momentary lapse in her assertion, a pause in her aggressive expression and a softening in her gaze as her lips relaxed over her teeth.

Gods damn it Fallon she's not Olivia.

Once again, her own hesitation cost her. The vampire moved, as she well knew, with incomprehensible speed, and her strength was just as impressive. The fist hit her like an anvil and knocked her skidding into the dirt and into the wall of the little cavern with a growled yelp in pain and shock. The wolf blinked hard, trying to rid the black spots that threatened to take over her vision, and as she struggled to find her footing her head shook at her dizziness so vigorously that she stumbled back to her side.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

Her fist cracked against the wolf’s skull, her undead strength granting her a moment’s reprieve. It was good that Fallon had stumbled because Victoria’s follow-through was sloppy, and it took her a few heavy steps to stop her charge. Quickly, while the beast tried to recover, she turned and grabbed up her weapon, whirling around to point it at Fallon menacingly, although it came across more truthfully as a stick held up in desperate defense.

That was all it really was: a deterrent. It would have been difficult to defeat a fully-fledged werewolf in this environment with two arms, let alone being forced to fight with her offhand. Her body had already been heavily taxed by healing her belly, and now it had a second massive injury to deal with. The mist form had saved her life twice now, but she wouldn’t be able to do that again, not in her state, not without fresh blood.

So she stood, sword outstretched, with red eyes staring wide at her opponent. She tried to ignore the agony and summon her energy. She had to focus everything on what she had to do. When Fallon looked up Victoria locked eyes with her, staring deep into the silver orbs.

”Stop.” She did not yell, but her voice seemed to fill the room. Her regular speech sounded almost overlayed with a warm, deep, silky tone. She poured every ounce of hypnotic power she had left into the word. She knew she could not overpower this creature’s mind, not even close. She saw those silver eyes, knew the boundless will behind them, but maybe she could cause just a moment’s pause, enough to stop a follow-up attack.

Her next action would cost her even more: she needed to swallow her pride.

”Please,” she could have gagged on the word. Her breaths were still fast and heavy, and she could not calm them amidst her pain.

”You told me to leave, I left. Why did you follow me?”

 

[Fallon]

A step forward and their eyes met, and for the life of her she couldn't drag her gaze away. The command seemed to fill her mind and seep into her muscles and bones, rooting her in place but she pushed against it with a raging snarl. It was pure violation that spread through her body and made her skin crawl with disgust and the fear of the silver was swept aside to make room for sheer fury.

Another step. It felt as though she were walking against a hurricane or strong current of water that threatened to drown her entirely. As she spoke again, Fallon stopped. But this time it wasn't her compulsion that caused the pause, it was the word. It wasn't a command, it was a plea, and even as she stood there with the weapon capable of ending her clutched in her palm, even as she lacked full control over her own body, she pleaded with her to stop.

It's a trick... Her own voice in her mind warned her as confusion softened the wolf's livid features.

Fallon snapped her jaws at the question and she snarled as her mind raced through the answers.. Because I shouldn't have let you leave. Because I should have killed you the second I laid eyes on you.. Because you'll hurt my family... Because I wanted to see your face.

A weakness, that's all this woman was to her, and her weakness would cost her if she did not snuff it out. The wolf she forced herself forward and shook out her fur before making a lunge at the woman in the hopes of pinning her down once again.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

Time stretched. Dirt and dust hung in the dawning sunbeam, held in suspended animation. Her blood ran scarlet over marble skin in a lazy cascade while her face held in an expression of desperate resolve. Her jaw was tight, her eyes wide, and her hand shook with the saber between her fingers.

She could not take her eyes away from the Wild. It had come to her in a wolf's body, an agent of undomesticated chaos. The beast, large and beautiful, drawn to her by necessity. She did not belong here with her jeweled rings and silken fabrics, holding her polished metal that had been ripped from the earth and made synthetic. The Wild had identified her as a blight, an anomaly, and it would see her excised.

Victoria was not always this way. She had been born in the woods, taken there in the dead of night and killed into her new existence. She awoke screaming and feral, with eyes meant to track and fangs meant to rend. She was set upon humanity like a fox upon hens, and in her continued hunt had been taught a most supreme camouflage.

But vampires were not animals, they remembered their former lives, remembered former comforts and luxuries. While they were certainly brought closer to the predator-prey dynamics of the wild, they distracted themselves from their curse with opulence.

But here she was, dragged through the dirt and face to face with a vicious creature that would surely tear her down, and she couldn't look away. It was the eyes that unnerved her the most... because they didn't change. They were same eyes that the beautiful woman had looked at her with, the same eyes that had shown softness and sadness when they first saw her face.

Victoria stepped back as Fallon snapped and snarled and made her slow advance. She felt her back hit the wall of the low hollow just as the werewolf leapt. She shut her eyes and slashed.

She didn't know if her blade made contact before she felt the heavy paws crash into her. Her broken shoulder cracked even further under the weight, and the shriek this time was a pitiful, pleading thing. Before the beast could tear out her throat, she yelled the only thing she could think that might save her.

"My name is Victoria O'Connor!"

 

[Fallon]

Oh you fool, Fallon...

She didn't often make mistakes. Today she did. Hot pain seared across her chest better than a branding iron, and her mind quickly conceded to the torment, unable to bring a single thought to completion. She'd managed only to pin the woman to the ground before she quickly followed the gravity that pulled her dripping blood into the dirt and she writhed in it as her body brutally snapped itself back into her elven form, her yelps and growls mutating into curdling screams. Her teeth locked as soon as the sound had thrown itself from her lungs and she growled again, furious and feral, the occasional whimper escaping to echo off the tiny cavern's walls.

All the while, the pain burned and radiated, increasing in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robbed her ability to breathe or speak, sending her mind crashing into a raging inferno of utter torment. It had always felt as though her blood had become an acid, intent of destroying her from the inside out. All she could do was writhe as she rolled herself onto her back which arched from the dirt that her fists tried desperately to clutch at, as if trying to find anchor for her very soul trying to escape it's fleshy prison, but the torture was merciless without escape.

She was surely dying...

She wasn't sure how deep the wound across her chest was, but it didn't matter. Her blood was turning against her, trying desperately to reject the toxin, her temperature rising rapidly so that she radiated heat that caused the cold air around her to ripple. Black filled the edges of her vision and the only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, and finally her gaze turned to the woman she'd meant to kill, wide eyes filling with involuntary tears that spilled onto her cheeks as her eyes closed, waiting for the vampire to finish the job..

Oh you fool, Fallon...

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

The weight of the wolf hit her again, and the pain was doubled as every nerve in her body entered a sweeping hyperesthesia. She had thought herself incapable of feeling more, that she would be deadened to the sensation by now, but the opposite was true. Now, even the slightest insult would set her off.

Her back hit the wall, then her side hit the ground as the weight of the wolf carried her down. Wind was knocked from her lungs as the creature fell on top of her, which would have been more of an issue had she actually needed to breath. She could feel the beast on top of her, felt it writhe and twitch and grow... lighter?

She could just see the metamorphosis if she looked down, and the shifting she-wolf turned back into the naked woman from before, writhing on top of Victoria's bloodied form before falling to the ground. She saw the red gash across her, connected it with the fresh blood on her blade. This was what silver could do to her? It was a far more violent reaction than she had seen before... maybe she had a chance.

With a grunt of effort Victoria swung her arm and rolled onto her stomach. Grit teeth and eyes like embers stared into the bloodbathed ground as she shakily pushed herself to her knees. She crawled to the twisting terror as her movements became less erratic. She could end this right now.

The silver rapier lifted into the air, its point now directed downward in a straight line to Fallon's heart. It hung in the air, swaying and shaking precariously in Victoria's grasp. The blonde's own blood dripped onto her skin. Victoria had won. She had bested the savage, defended her honor, and now would take her revenge. This was the right and just outcome, now she would drive the sword into her enemy and destroy her forever.

The sword hung in the air as Victoria breathed quicker, crushed lungs wheezing against the cold. It shook more violently as a battle raged inside the wielder's mind. Do it. Don't do it. Kill her. Let her live. Destroy her. Use her. Look at her.

The silver eyes met hers. The silver sword plunged down.

Half the blade buried itself in the dirt, four inches to the side of Fallon's right ear. Victoria hung on it, looming over her. She hadn't been able to do it. Why hadn't she been able to do it? Her face was wild, with fangs shining through open-mouthed gasps of breath and eyes that danced like bloody pearls. Pearls that looked at Fallon's pulsing neck. She began to lower her head, lips trembling in anticipation of the rapturous rejuvenation that was just inches away...

"No!" she said quietly, but forcefully, squinting her eyes shut and pushing herself up again. She couldn't feed on her, it didn't feel right. Because... because she was an animal, yes, that was it. It was beneath Victoria's station to feed on her. Besides, she needed this dog to cooperate.

"Stay down," she rasped. She didn't have any energy left to hypnotize her, so her words were plain. "Or I will cut out your heart."

 

[Fallon]

Her kind had always been particularly sensitive to silver. It terrified her, but the thought of her family being murdered because of her mistake terrified her more, and now.. now she'd made an even worse mistake. Each breath was staggered, as though she was rationing air, catching in her throat before she could let too much of it escape her lungs, afraid she wouldn't be able to pull in another.

Fallon's wide eyes opened again to stare up at the woman. It was her turn to be afraid, she was about to die, but her fear wasn't for herself but for those she was leaving behind.Adrenaline flooded her system, but it done nothing for her other than cause her heart to rattle so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. Despite the heat that rose from her, her skin was milky pale and glistening in cold sweat as she looked between Victoria's bedraggled self and the blade she held above her heart.

The fear was just as paralysing as the pain, her terrorized body refused to make any attempt to move and all her hands agreed to do was to ball into fists that housed handfuls of dirt and trembled as they squeezed, braced for death. Her eyes closed tightly as the woman lifted and plunged the sword, and Fallon held her final breath. Her body flinched as she heard the blade slam into the dirt by the side of her head, and she let out the shuddered breath, laced with a quiet cry of relief.

Rigid fingers unfurled and released the earth she'd clutched hold of, tears following in tribute and she savoured every breath that rasped into her aching lungs.

Why hadn't she done it?

Her body tensed again as she looked like she'd considered biting her, and yet even she even stopped herself doing that..

What sort of vampire was this?

"You look like her..." Fallon sighed out as she watched her, her eyes drifting heavily for a moment before slowly falling closed.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

”You look like her…”

The words were a gust of wind on embers, fueling her burning curiosity and her need to know everything about this Olivia O’Connor. If she had been having trouble letting it go before, she certainly would not give it up now.

”Who was she? Her family, where were they? Hey… hey!” Victoria barked in desperation at the fading woman. Fallon’s eyes rolled back into unconsciousness, and Victoria sat back and heaved a long, heavy sigh. The pair of them were a bizarre scene: both dirty, bloody, broken. Victoria in her tattered rags and Fallon wearing a red slash across her skin.

She retrieved her sword from the ground and lay it across her lap as she leaned back against the dirt wall. She watched Fallon closely until it was clear that she was not going to wake up, at least not suddenly. Slowly, she allowed herself to relax somewhat. Everything hurt, and she was dreadfully thirsty.

The wound in her stomach would be healed by nightfall. Her shoulder had begun to knit itself, but her arm would likely be useless for at least another 24 hours. Fallon’s jaws were large and powerful, and she had all but pulverized the bones. ”Fuck it,” Victoria muttered to herself as she ripped out of the last of her dress and used it to tie a sort of sash and sling to hold together the mangled edges of flesh.

She sat covered in shadow and little else. The sling, a now naked corset, and undergarments the only things between her and the elements. The clothes were ornamental anyway, she did not feel the cold. As time wore on she continually checked on the movements of the lone sunbeam. Its journey was slow and regular, but it remained a looming and lethal threat. Most of the time, however, her eyes rested on the wolf. She liked watching how her chest rose and fell with her breathing. It wasn’t a farcical mechanical show like Victoria’s own breaths, being based more on habit than necessity. Fallon’s movements were the bellows of life, the basal functions to keep the spark burning within. She had felt the heat coming off of her when she had leaned over her, and even now the small snowflakes that found their way into the hollow melted when they drew near.

Victoria found herself almost reminiscing. Her spark had been extinguished for two hundred years. The void it left she attempted to fill with jewels and fine fabrics, with extravagance and carnal pleasures. There was no more warmth within her, only the cold calculations of a predator and the repressed desperation of a woman whose life had been stolen from her.

She dared not wake the sleeping animal, and was torn between her two desires. The one that wished for darkness to come so she could flee, and the other that desperately wanted Fallon to speak to her.

 

[Fallon]

The mundane scars, and those caused by silver were easy to differentiate on Fallon's war-weathered skin. Her body was a scribble of the faintest lines only a shade paler than her usual tone that had to be carefully looked at to see at all, wounds inflicted by blades, arrows and the claws and teeth of a vast array of beast. But the scars that stood out, thick and risen from her skin, shiny as though the silver itself had left a trace, were the ones that had almost killed her each and every time. Those were the ones that still caused her aches and pains, that still burned every-so-often, that held the worst of her memories - and she wore plenty of them.

It never got any easier, there was no immunity she could build, each time hurt as much as the last and the only saving grace without a healer nearby was that the wound had been a slash, nothing more than a flesh wound. Her body may have looked peaceful, but that was only because it was too traumatised to writhe in the way that her mind did. The wound continued to bleed out, blackening as her body slowly rejected the poisonous taint that caused her to burn hot with fever and cold sweat to bloom relentlessly and run in rivulets down her naked form to nourish the twisted tree roots that housed them.

It was several hours before the wound could finally begin to knit and stop bleeding, but the wound remained raw and enraged and would do so for the next few days. It was several more hours before Fallon managed to wrestle her consciousness back from the darkest depths of her mind, and she stirred as the pain came rushing back. It was bearable, and more of a severe ache than the searing burn that it had been. Her brow furrowed and she let out a quiet huff as her eyes slowly blinked themselves open to cast a sleepy glance over the scantily clad woman with a sudden pang of guilt.

She'd helped her in the valley, she'd left when she'd warned her to, and despite Fallon hunting her down and trying to kill her, she'd refrained from finishing the job she'd started when she'd had the chance. Why?

"Victoria.." she sighed deeply, her voice still gritty from sleep. The single word was a statement of memory and had no lilt of question. She'd said her name was Victoria O'Connor, information she could only now begin to process.. "I'm sorry..."

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

Sleep did not take her... but it offered. A few times her eyes started to droop, but always she pushed herself back to vigilance. The sunbeam had, thankfully, disappeared. While light still filtered in, the direct rays no longer shot through the small opening, and she was safe to move if she chose.

She chose not to. The wolf was unconscious, as far as she knew, but she was not quiet. Whimpers and growls still escaped her, and Victoria did not know when she might wake. The wound healed slowly, but heal it did. What would happen if she regained her full strength? Had Victoria doomed herself by not taking her chance?

She tried not to think of that. She still had her sword, and her stomach wound had closed and was now little more than a pink circle of recently healed skin. Her shoulder had stopped bleeding and the bones had begun to realign and fuse themselves, the mangled muscle softening and returning to its organized normalcy.

She sat up straiter when her attacker finally spoke. The apology was more shocking than anything else. Sorry? For what? Why would a werewolf apologize to her? Victoria’s racism aside, lycanthropes were ancient enemies that needed no excuse to kill her kind.

But... she liked hearing this woman speak her name. The voice was pained, but it still carried the thick tones of a primal life. She was at a loss of how to reply. Should she apologize too? No, that was stupid. Besides, she wasn’t sorry... mostly...

”Just... don’t try anything again,” she said nervously. Somehow she could tell the woman wouldn’t be violent again... so then why were her hands shaking?

”Well, you know my name. Who are you?” She tried to force some authority into her tone, tried to hide her vulnerability. It was not likely to work.

 

[Fallon]

Fallon didn't even bother to attempt to get up let alone make any sudden movements. Even if she wanted to, she was far too weak. She wouldn't try anything, but she wouldn't waste her breath offering promises or reassurances, she doubted the woman would believe her anyway. She stared up at the puzzle of twisted roots above her, watching the small puffs of mist that escaped her lungs disappear into the air. There was never a time to appreciate breathing more than when she'd just cheated death..

"Fallon.." she answered and turned her head to look at the woman again. They both looked as drastic as the other. She lay flat on her back, dragging her feet in toward her so that her knees were bent and she let them sway from side to side as her fingers splayed into the dirt, her arms spread out at either side of her. She pulled in a deep breath and pulled her gaze reluctantly from Victoria's familiar features.

"Alpha of the Garou.." she huffed with a frown and closed her eyes with a mute prayer that none of them would come after her, if they found her here like this with a vampire they'd tear the woman to shreds without a second thought..just as she should have.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

”Fallon,” she repeated, feeling the name on her tongue. It was unusual but it seemed to fit, especially when spoken in the foreign sounds of the woman’s voice. She had not been able to appreciate it when it had been tainted with rage, but now it had softened and the elven influence came through. She wondered if Fallon could sing…

She mentally shook herself back to reality, glancing down at the dirt to keep her eyes off Fallon’s bare skin so she could focus. The Garou… that must be her pack. Victoria had never heard the word before but why would she? She didn’t exactly keep up with werewolf culture. She understood what Alpha meant, though, and she believed it immediately.

Two women, two leaders, two monsters, stuck in a hole together. The silence was deafening.

”What was she like?” Victoria asked suddenly. ”Was she… human?” She chose not to think about why she asked these particular questions.

 

[Fallon]

"Yes.." Fallon answered quickly with a brief glance at the woman before staring straight up, though her eyes were glazed and distant, lost in a memory that despite the pain she was still in, caused her full lips to tug into some semblance of a smile. Her eyes closed to lock the memory in her mind and she sighed. She was easier to remember since seeing Victoria's face for the first time, but she remembered the differences too. The image she remembered was of Olivia sitting by the fire in the lightly falling snow, naked under a blanket of fur that she held around her exposed, ivory shoulders and red curls, her smile illuminated by the warm glow of the flames. The thought done everything to soothe the pain she was in.

She had perfect crimson hair that rested right above her shoulders and green eyes that brightened and dimmed depending on the light, but they were eyes that could swallow galaxies. Her perfect skin that looked so fragile yet so soft and the unerring amount of freckles around her nose. Cheeks the colour of pink roses and eyelashes longer than anyone's she'd ever seen. And her out-of-this-world body... Fallon audibly groaned without meaning to.

Fallon didn't speak about Olivia, it'd always been too painful a subject to broach, but somehow she felt Victoria had some sort of right to know about her relative, however distant. "She was perfect.. Before I met her I was broken. She had this way about her that soothed, without saying or doing anything at all. Just the right mix of shyness and sweetness, she was so.. gentle, unless anyone she cared for was wronged, and her temper was outstanding...." she laughed under her breath. "I taught her how to heal, she wanted to help people. My pack loved her.. I loved her." she frowned.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

Fallon’s openness took her by surprise. Victoria had been ready for her to snap, to tell her to piss off and mind her own business, or maybe just stay stubbornly silent. Her sincerity was nice, and she found herself listening with rapt attention.

She wanted to know more about Olivia. There was a longing inside of her that had been unearthed after ages of cold suppression. She was fine being alone, even convinced herself that she preferred it, but hearing that some vestige of her family may have survived even this long… she had to know more. If Olivia was indeed a relative then perhaps there were others.

It was a dangerous road to go down, she reminded herself once again. Even if the O’Connor name persisted they were no longer her true kin. They would shun her, revile her, as well they should. She would be a black stain on their family tree. She didn’t care. Even if the bloodline had truly ended with Olivia, her ancestry was a mystery that needed solving. With her dead, Fallon was the closest lead Victoria had. It turned her stomach to think of cooperating with a lycan, but this was softened by her desperation, and how much she liked looking at Fallon.

”I was born two hundred and five years ago.” She chimed in. Saying it out loud felt odd, made her curse feel more real. ”I died one hundred and eighty five years ago. I left my home and my old life and I didn't look back. While I was away, my family disappeared. I assumed they died out." She chewed her tongue. It was impossible for her to leave the cavern with the waning sunlight outside, and there was nothing else to do if they weren't going to try and murder each other. Perhaps that was why she felt alright with getting personal.

"How did you meet?" she changed the subject. It had occured to her how odd it was for a werewolf, especially one so remote, had even met a human woman. It was also concerning to think her family had sunk so low as to be found in such company... but she had better put that judgement aside if she wanted to get anything out of this fragile truce.

 

[Fallon]

Fallon realised that she'd never actually had a spoken with a vampire in this way. They'd never 'survived' long enough after she'd hunted them down, and the words that they had shared were never pleasant and couldn't be deemed civilised enough to merit the description of a 'conversation'. And so it was strange for her, to hear one speak of being born so long ago, and dying and yet being undead. The thought caused her brows to furrow and her silver orbs to narrow in consternation, vampires were an abomination, unnatural beings that didn't belong on the waking planes. Even they couldn't deny that. But she'd never really considered that they held memory or any sort of sentimental value over their previous lives as humans. She'd never considered their human lives at all, for that was no longer what they were.

What if it had been Livvy? If she'd died at the hands of a vampire, if she'd become one of them, would she still have loved her?.... Yes. So she'd have been a hypocrite. She huffed as the thoughts disturbed her..

"I'd taken in a lycan, a newborn. I was training him and he picked up her scent along with a few others she was travelling with. He was faster than I was, I couldn't save the others she was with but I reached him in time to save Livvy and her younger brother. The second I set eyes on her I had this... need, to protect her that even I couldn't explain." she frowned, glancing to the woman as she realised this issue had been the cause of her hesitation before. She knew this woman wasn't Olivia, even her scent was entirely different, and yet part of her mind simply held her back.

Finally she shifted herself, rolling to her side with a pained grimace and whimper as she pushed herself up. The pain was clear in her eyes as she let them wander over the wounded redhead, the thought of offering blood in some sort of repayment crossing her mind but her words remained locked behind her teeth as she thought better of it. Garou blood was pure, it knit wounds quickly and bound flesh and bone back together, it even kept them free of diseases and made them immune to most poisons. She'd given her blood to many who were fatally wounded but offering a vampire blood was likely unwise..

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

Victoria did her best to hide her feelings as Fallon told her story. Intrigued as she was by the... Garou, was it? She still thought unkind things about the idea of a newborn lycan sniffing out enemies and being trained to become more vicious. Her pride was kept somewhat at bay by the nagging knowledge that her kind worked in much the same way. Newborn vampires were terrible, wild things that needed guidance. They needed to be taught to control themselves and live properly. For all of their pride, vampires existed in delicate balance. Hunt too aggressively and your prey dies out. Live too openly... and your prey learns to fight back.

Perhaps that was why she, and her kind, hated the lycanthropes so much. They had also once been human (so she thought), they had also been made wild predators of those they once called kin, but while the vampires hid in the shadows the werewolves ran free. Many of them only succumbed to their curse once per month, and all of them were free to feel the sun on their skin, and indulge in the tastes, smells, and sensations of life...

Victoria closed off these thoughts. She was not envious of the beasts, she did not miss foolish mortal pleasures. She was above all that. Then Fallon rolled to her side and pushed herself up to stand before her, and she almost completely forgot what she'd been thinking about. In those two or three seconds, she had just one thought.

What a woman.

This was followed by several, far more licentious thoughts in rapid succession.

Sense quickly reclaimed her, and she lifted her sword as a warning for Fallon to not come any closer... but then she lowered it. Very slowly, staring into the silver pools, she set the blade down beside her, and let it go. A gesture of peace and trust... but not so trusting that it was not within arm's reach.

Another question bubbled to the surface, but she was almost afraid to ask it.

"What... happened to her?"

 

[Fallon]

Fallon's wild gaze fixed on the silver blade and followed it, her fingers curling into fists that she squeezed by her sides, a rare flicker of timidity as her stony expression faltered for a brief moment before she lowered it.

"A demon took her, to get to me. She died because of me." she answered, and her bare feet twisted in the dirt as she turned toward the tangled mouth of the little cavern, unable to conceal her usual limp and not caring to try. She'd already been as vulnerable as she was ever going to be whilst in the woman's presence, it wasn't going to matter now. She lifted a small leather sack which she opened and produced a faun nubuck dress, if it could be called as such, and a wrap of white fur.

"Our kind don't hunt humans..." she added as though she could sense what the woman had been thinking, an obvious effort to change the subject. She dressed gingerly, wincing as she pulled the skin over her head and covered herself where she had to be covered, but the dress was short and strapless and didn't leave much to the imagination anyway. She was wild, and never claimed to be anything else.

"We were created by the gods themselves, we're supposed to protect the world from demons, monsters..." people like you..

As she spoke of her gods and her kind she lifted her chin despite the urge to double over in pain and lay back down. Her beliefs had been unshakable ever since she could remember, and she'd never been so conflicted as she was now, pouring her heart out to the very creature she was supposed to hunt. She turned back to her as she wrapped the white fur around her shoulders and held it across the wound on her chest as she padded closer again to sit against the wall opposite.

"We are born...We're not sired." she continued.. "We learn self control whilst we're young, and I've managed to teach a few lycans the same. They didn't ask for the disease they were cursed with. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't.." she shrugged and dropped her gaze to hide the guilt in her eyes. It was always tough on her when she failed to hone their control, and it was always her who took on the task of putting the beasts down when the need arose.

"I suppose you didn't ask for your situation either..." she commented without looking up.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

Victoria turned her eyes down at Fallon’s brief account of Olivia’s death, not knowing what to say about that. She had been called a demon many times but the label was a gross exaggeration. Some vampires dabbled in the darker realms of devils and demons… they were not spoken of often.

She noted the limp and the endless spiderwebs of scarring that covered Fallon’s body. If these were any indication of her day to day life the wendigo may not have been an unusual evening for her at all. Even Victoria tired of violence eventually… did this blonde wildling ever stop fighting?

"We were created by the gods themselves, we're supposed to protect the world from demons, monsters..."

Victoria cocked her head to the side and actually cracked a sly smirking grin. ”...Vampires?” she added through glistening fangs. That one wasn’t hard to work out given the state of her arm.

She did not hold any great interest in how lycans were trained or learned control, her pride still barred her from what would actually be very useful information. Pride was a vampire’s armor. Pride told them they did not miss being mortal, they were now superior. They did not feel guilt for harvesting the living, they were better than them, stronger. Does a lion pity the lamb? They deserved to take blood and land and power from the lesser races because that is what predators do.

But pride was brittle, and all of Victoria’s fixation on her family and her former life had begun to chip away at it. She had allowed herself to reminisce and to seek reconnection with her stolen life, and so when Fallon sent her words forward, they pierced through the armor and into her heart.

"I suppose you didn't ask for your situation either..."

She stopped breathing, and the self-satisfied expression shattered and fell in pieces to a sadness so deep that her eyes almost seemed to absorb the light from the lingering sunbeam. Then… they glistened, and cold tears began to well up within them as rose lips quivered against marble skin.

She would not cry. Not here. Not after so long. Not in front of her. She closed her eyes and set her lips in a tight frown. Get ahold of yourself, Victoria.

”No… no I did not.”

She was silent for a long time, but then something Fallon had said suddenly stood out. Maybe her mind was reaching for anything that could pull her out of this pit. How this woman had described werewolves… it wasn’t what Victoria had learned at all. Not hunting mortals? Not sired? She even seemed to discriminate between lycanthropes and her own kind, whatever that was.

”Wait,” she said, revealing dried eyes. ”But… lycanthropy is spread by bites. Werewolves attack people all the time.” She was confused. ”Are you… not a lycan?”

She was curious enough that she did not notice the scent of humans on the wind.

 

[Fallon]

"...Vampires.." she echoed the word, her eyes hanging on the woman's smile for a little longer than she'd meant to. It was the prettiest thing she'd seen in a while, one that awoke so many memories of Olivia and yet it was far more dangerous. For a fraction of a second the corners of Fallon's mouth twitch upwards, until her conscious mind asserted control again.

She watched as her face shifted into an expression she'd never associated with her kind before, and under that tenacious and proud persona she wore was something far more vulnerable than Fallon could ever have guessed. It hurt, to see her eyes well like that. She had to remind herself who's eyes they were and suppress the urge to fall at her knees and hold her, comfort her...kiss her. It troubled her just how strong that urge was.

There was nothing else she could think to say, and she let the pregnant silence carry on until Victoria spoke again, and her head shook.. "Werewolves.." Fallon laughed under her breath. Even the term 'wolf' was better than 'werewolves', it always sounded so ghoulish. "No I am not a lycan.." she sighed and let her head fall back against the cavern wall.

"Lycanthropy is a taint of the blood, spread through bites, yes. It's a disease and a curse, and a terrible one, I've fought with many..but I always try to help them gain some sort of control.." she frowned "Garou are a much rarer race, we are the gifted, not the cursed..." her brows rose. Some disagreed. "We are born this way. Wild. Free.. Some of us have the ability to cross into the spirit planes, and further into the void, to return the creatures that don't belong here.." she tilted her head to look at her.

"You are the first vampire that I have met that I haven't killed."