Private Tales The People-Hating Coalition

[Iren Brightmane]

THE SPINE
Izoldë

Iren had little interest in mountains.

Scratch that. He had little interest in any rough nature that took hours to traverse and left your feet smarting. You'd think being a vampire meant being safe from annoyances such as that, but the truth was a different matter. The issue was the lack of food. Sure, he could snatch up a rat or a deer, but animal blood was unsanitary as far as Iren was concerned.

You hardly knew if there were ticks or other parasites rolling over them and having their own royal feast.

He was walking along this path (hardly worthy of being called that) up the mountain for hours. The forest reach was behind him, but even now he could faintly hear the animal noises.

They sure sounded appetizing when you were hungry already.

"Steady on, Iren. A few more hours and then you can have another sip." He muttered to himself as he tried to summon this mythical tree he was searching for into existence. No such luck however. It was supposed to be here somewhere. Supposedly its ichor (or blood? or sap? he hadn't been listening to closely) was worth quite a penny.

So focused Iren was on mentally summoning that blasted tree he was totally unaware that he was being stalked currently.

He smelled wrong to an animal nose. Looked wrong too. No heat running under his skin... not when he was this hungry.

 

[Izoldë]

Death. It smells of death.

The leopard's nose scrunched in disgust. She had thought the smell belonged to some half rotting corpse she could have used as an easy meal but it was hard to deny what her eyes told her. The thing lived. It didn't look very happy about it, but it lived in some twisted way she didn't understand. It made the fur on the leopards back stand on end. She couldn't afford to spend time looking for other prey. Up amongst the peaks game was scarce. The deer and goats preferred to keep to the lower altitudes at this time of year and the creatures that chose loftier heights were harder to kill. Something dying would be easier to take down alone, especially with her injury.

Gingerly she put her weight onto her front left paw and gave a silent hiss at the pain that speared up her leg. When she had eaten she would hunt down those mangey mutts and repay the favour.

Swallowing the pain, the leopard stalked between the drifts of snow and evergreen furs, keeping the odd creature of death in her sights at all time.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Izoldë

The annoying thing about being an apex predator was the lack of evolutionary development to create a second sense when you were being stalked. The run-of-the-mill sad sack deer will know when its being hunted, but Iren had no earthly karking idea.

Maybe if he was less annoyed about being here in the first place he would have smelled her.

Instead her bloody filth immersed itself with the rest of the surroundings.

This is why Iren was not careful... and slipped slightly on the sleek stone. This momentarily lapse in agility gave Izoldë an exposed shoulder to sink into... if she wanted to take advantage of it.

 

[Izoldë]

If she had been a wiser leopard, she might have stopped to consider that something walking on two legs was no simple animal. Unfortunately, hunger and pain made her reckless. She sprang forward as the creature stumbled, sinking teeth and claws into the exposed curve of where neck met shoulder. Almost as soon as her teeth sunk into the wrong-smelling flesh however, she pulled back with a hiss. It was worse than day old rotting meat. Neither leopard nor girl had any words to describe the putrid taste that coated her sensitive tongue.

But meat was meat when you were starving.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

A heavy thick shape collided with Iren mid-stumble and it completed the trajectory of his fall. Just as Izoldë's teeth sunk into his exposed neck he'd grab her by her scruff. "You foul-smelling whelp-" The vampire growled while hissing and exposing his fangs, attempting to launch the dirty animal off of him.

His eyes squinting as Iren crouched slightly.

"Attack me again and see what happens, you harlot of a creature."

Already the realization dawned that this wasn't a regular animal. It smelled off. Wrong. Its blood? Even from here Iren could smell it and its potency.

This... this could be a meal.

 

[Izoldë]

The leopard did not take kindly to being shaken like a cub by its mother. As the vampire threw her off him, she landed with feline grace on three paws, the injured one curled up towards her chest. Before he might take advantage of the weakness she leapt onto a craggy outcrop of mountainside to give herself the higher ground. From there she hissed her displeasure, tail lashing against the snow.

Maybe not quite a dead thing walking.

Now she was closer she could see he appeared... not-human. But not in the way of the pointed ear not-human or the short, fat not-human. This one smelt as though it should be six feet under. Her nose scrunched up again and she spat the chunk of his flesh she had managed to take with her out onto the snow. Maybe this meat would make her sick.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

It didn't attack him immediately which suggested a keener sense of intelligence than Iren initially assumed.

He slowly righted himself while keeping it in his view.

"You are not merely an animal." Iren muttered thoughtfully as his fingers went to his neck. A piece of his flesh was torn out, but no blood was forthcoming. He hadn't fed in a while so his blood had stilled in his veins. Cold and dark...

Torpor.

His mind reached out to hers, not too unkindly, trying to coax out that moreness into the foreground.

"What else are you, little leopard?"

 

[Izoldë]

Dead-Not-Human taste bad. Might make sick.

Her tail flicked as she continued to watch him from her higher perch. Calculating.

Might be threat. Best kill, but very strong. Can not run fast. Paw-pain. Need be quick.

Her claws dug into the snow and she seemed to brace herself for another launch.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

And suddenly right as she is about to leap towards him? A new foreign thought entered her mind, another voice for the first time... in a long time perhaps.

Might be a friend. If you stop biting chunks out of me.

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk as his hands went behind his back. It would be foolish to assume it made him any less deadly, but Iren thought that by presenting at least some vulnerability the human inside the animal might take pause.

Or he'd have something to feed on.

Either option was fine really.

 

[Izoldë]

The leopard snarled as the voice spoke inside her mind.

Just like lying-not-god. Is he not-god too? Alongside the tangle of half formed sentences came flickers of memory in the form of images and scents. Of a jungle far from here and a woman who had sung a haunting song, luring creatures to her nest. To use. Abuse. A very firm sense of hatred accompanied the memories.

She hadn't smelt bad though. Not like--

Her head cocked to the side as the human buried within seemed to realise that perhaps the creature before her could read her thoughts. Her green eyes narrowed. There was a moment of silence as she seemed to weigh up her options before thinking her next thought with a bit more care.

Might friend have food?

 

[Iren Brightmane]

I am not a God... even though I feel like one sometimes.

No one would ever hear him say that, but it was easier to be honest to an animal than to a person. Even if she was relatively both. It was easy to feel like a God when passing through crowds of humans. So vulnerable, so beating with life and sustenance.

There was the danger also however.

To think yourself such a predator you'd not consider the danger humans can pose.

Might-friend has food. He confirmed lightly as he tapped his bag. But might-friend doesn't share easily.

 

[Izoldë]

Feline eyes followed the tapping fingers to the bag. Another moment of hesitation as beast and human seemed to weigh up their chances of getting the bag off him and away.

Might-friend could lie. Two-legs always lie.

Her ears laid flat against her skull and her lips pulled back from her teeth.

What might-friend want? Smell dead. Dying. Can make quick.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Might-friend often lies, it is true. But we both know with how wounded you are... you are no threat to me.

And so there was no reason to lie to her. No advantage to be had. If he wanted her dead, he'd just make her dead and feast on her. But Iren was intrigued. He had heard tales of beast-shapers that could be human or beast depending on their wants.

Was this one of them?

I will feed you... if you feed me. A sip from your blood, that's all I require... for now.... please?

Asked so politely and warmly for a simple reason. It tasted much better when his blood bags weren't afraid. Fear often tainted the blood with all sorts of nasty side-tastes. No, there was beauty in blood infused with joy or affection... or simple acceptance.

And Iren enjoyed beauty in its many forms.

 

[Izoldë]

The leopard blinked.

It had been asked many things in its life but blood had never been one of them. The girl had heard of such creatures before though. The stories were locked away with other painful memories the leopard did not like to touch. Still, both remembered enough to know such creatures could be dangerous. But it had been so long since she had eaten...

Prove it. Her eyes flickered to the bag.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Mm... and what assurances does one such as I have that you won't flee with it between your teeth?

Her wounded leg, of course, but he didn't voice that out loud. Instead those amber eyes studied her curiously as he finally lifted the lid of his bag and then pulled some slices of meat, currently packaged and wrapped away from the elements.

It was to be lure... if he got really desperate and needed to sustain himself on animals.

The meat itself didn't do anything for him. But the blood of prey lured by said meat? Oh, yes, that would be just fine.

If gross.

Iren hoped that this beast and human in one would prove a more delicious taste.

The smell of the meat was already drifting on the air. Proof enough? If so... come here... and lay down for me.

 

[Izoldë]

She bristled at the command but her eyes never left the meat. The only reason the wolves had been able to chase her off had been because she hadn't eaten for a week. She'd been too slow, too tired, too weak. It had been a miracle she had brought down the faun at all and then to lose it to a pack of...

The leopard cut off the girls train of thoughts. It was pointless wasting energy over a lost hunt.

Tentatively she hopped from the higher rocky outcrop to a lower one putting her at eye level with the not-quite-dead-human.

Little blood only, she narrowed her eyes.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

He smiled at her, closing the lid of the bag again and putting it away for now.

For now. This is my offer, little leopard. I will keep you fed... as long as you keep me fed. I have a long journey to go and I am tired of swallowing stale cold blood. I need heat. I need fire surging through my veins with every step I take.

Iren took a step forward and offered his hand with the palm upwards.

I will hunt meat for you, fresh and chunky... and nothing will be able to take it from you. As long as you give me what I need during this trip.

It was most likely a bad deal. How tasty could her blood really be? But he could practically smell the magic off of her fur.

That had to be better than the garbage rats and rabbits scampering about.

 

[Izoldë]

Can feed self, a low snarl rumbled in the back of her throat. She was a good hunter, had survived this long on her own when other predators had thought her weak. But to be strong she needed to be fixed... Her eyes drifted to her mangled paw.

You fix paw. Then I stay for trip. Keep you fed. The you was followed by an image of a mewling cub which was an apt synonym for how she saw him stumbling through the mountains.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Eyebrows went up in amusement at that mental image accompanying its mental words.

And how do I know you won't simply run off once I fix your paw?

Clearly Iren had trust issues, but really you didn't have a fully-fledged conversation with a random animal you met every day. So maybe it was a bit understandable that Iren was currently skeptical of her general level of trustworthiness.

Then a visual image trickled into Izoldë's mind.

Of the snow leopard transformed into a little baby sleeping in Iren's bag, because that's how cute and vulnerable she looked like right now.

Meet me halfway, little leopard. Let me feed off of you now... and then I will see if you are worthy of my trust. What do you have to lose?

 

[Izoldë]

How I know you no run away? Or take More, the leopard countered then her green eyes flickered to the bag once more.

Food now for blood now. Fix paw for not leaving.

Final offer, the thought seemed to say.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Inclining his head there and he pulled out a thin stripe of dried and salted meat out of the bag. It wasn't the tastiest thing he had, she could probably smell the taste of a raw steak wrapped in packaging, but clearly he wasn't about to give her the prime cut to begin with.

You barter well, little leopard.

And then he extended the meat to her, but the angle of it would force her to jump off of the stone and get on the ground for him.

Eat then.

 

[Izoldë]

The leopard seemed to weigh up its options, eyes never leaving the dangling meat. Yet, instead of jumping down the large snowcat shifted in a kaleidoscope of colours. Glistening fur vanished replaced by pale skin that rivalled the vampires, and matted long hair that was in need of a good brush. She sat in the snow uncaring of the cold despite not wearing a stitch. Reaching out with surprisingly quick hands she snatched the meat from his hand and proceeded to tear into it, fangs making short work of tearing into the raw flesh.

Her other hand she held out towards him. It looked far worse without fur to hide it. Bruised and swollen it was quite clearly broken and need of attention, but she offered it wrist up all the same.

"Only little," she reminded him around a mouthful of flesh.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

That got a blink from Iren as he looked her up and down.

Not particularly lustful either. Just a nonplussed expression of surprise that there had been a leopard here first and now it was a girl.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you?" That at least confirmed his suspicions that 'it' was actually a beast shifter of some sort. He glanced at her for a moment longer before shaking his head. Pulling off his cloak and dropping it on her head.

"You will die before I can get a single sip from you." Iren said by way of explanation for the kindness.

Once she extended her arm to him he licked his lips. The thrum of power in her veins... oh yes, this wouldn't be dirty animal blood that made him sick. He crouched down there and took her wrist in his hand, as gentle as can be, as he rotated it to expose her inner arm to him.

A vampire's bite could be intoxicating. It was part of how they got their victims. Flooding them with endorphins with each bite to keep them sedated.

One sharp nail swiped in and ran a shallow cut along her wrist to encourage the bloodletting. Then he rotated her wrist down to the ground... as the blood started to trickle he caught it with a drinking cup. One that was marked with stained crimson.

Clearly this wasn't his first rodeo.

"What is a human-ish girl doing out here?"

 

[Izoldë]

Izoldë let out an indignant hiss as the cloak was dropped atop her head. She shook her head violently to dislodge it enough that it settled on her shoulders instead but made no effort to pull it tight around her. Her focus was on the bloodied meat in her hand. The only pause in her chewing was when he removed a cup from his satchel in which to catch her blood. Even then she offered only a blink before returning to her meal.

"Hunting," she growled as she worried at the last bit of tough meat. "No game, wonder further," she gobbled down the last mouthful then licked at her bloodied fingers with a touch more grace. "Why maybe friend here?"

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Once he was satisfied with his cup halfway towards half full he took a soft sip.

Then a mild ah escaped him. Even that little added some color to his face. He was still much too pale, but before he had looked like a corpse, now he looked like a man who clearly should see the sun more often. At least if he didn't keep squinting at the sky and clearly repressed the urge to curse at it.

"Hunting..." He murmured absently while sipping again. Now she'd feel his scent change. As more of his body became animated, alive, still nowhere close to living meat.

But it was getting there.

"I am looking for some blasted idiot ichor from some dumb tree. Apparently it is worth a lot and a companion of mine would really like some of it."

He sighed there.

"See what I have been reduced to? Walking around to fetching ichor. Isn't that sad?"