Night 58: Chapel

[sainted]

[from here]

The room he walked into was larger than he'd expected, but it wasn't hard to guess its purpose, not with the very deliberate arrangement of long red pews. A chapel. Stefan's grip on his knife still didn't relax as he wandered further inside. He'd been in a few churches in his time — what faith in God he'd possessed as a child had waned with too many decades of undead existence, but... call him cliché, he liked Gothic architecture. In his worst moments, he'd enjoyed hunting for victims in church, for the spice of ironic pleasure in knowing they believed themselves to be in a safe house, protected by all those popular fiction vampire deterrents. Save for wooden stakes, fire and the sun, they were all myths. Not that there were any crosses he could see from his cursory glance from the door, or even...

Holy water.

In the dark, the liquid burble of the fountain could've been confused for normal water — or, to the least, one of the less threatening noises in the hospital. You could even convince yourself that the sinister shape rising out of the water was something else from this distance, but Stefan, being able to see in the dark, had no such luxury. Still, the demonic face of the statue barely registered to his mind as he came closer to the fountain. He walked slowly, circling around it, unaware of what he was doing. All of his attention was fixed on the liquid churning in the fountain. Black, blacker than water should've been in the darkness. A deep red flooded the whites of Stefan's eyes. His gums itched. The scent of blood — human blood — hung so heavily in the air around him, he could hardly breathe.

Of course he could tell. Damon might joke that his taste buds had shriveled up after so many years of his diet, but it might as well have been the difference between white wine and vinegar. Human blood and animal blood. And it hadn't been so long either since the last time he'd had a taste of the former, fresh from the vein...

...but he couldn't do it again. Never, no matter how desperate he was. He was starving, yes, four nights and counting, but if he started it up now, under these conditions... There was no guarantee he could reclaim himself again. And he thought of his brother, trying to scheme his way out for all of them, and of Elena, putting on a brave face for their sakes, and of adding another burden on their shoulders. Stefan slapped a hand over his nose and mouth, which helped just enough to let him turn his face away.

Keep fighting.

Stefan spun around, almost faster than humanly possible, and ran.

[to here]

Comments

[damned-soldiers.livejournal.com]

Ha. Guess he couldn't maintain the "keep to the shadows" routine for long. Yet, he supposed it was time for an unveiling. A reveal. The other man looked like he needed a talking to, so to speak, a calming influence to overwhelm. And what better way to fight a fire than with fire?

A figure stood from a pew at the corner of the chapel, attire as black as the shadows surrounding them. Surprisingly, Claude was not in uniform; given the circumstances, he had been excused from protocol. As long as duty held, he was allowed most everything and anything. As long as he obtained a name, he could protect himself from the worst of patients.

How ironic given the truth of things.

"Ya sure talk a lot fer a fella itchin' fer a fight," he called out, not at all bothering to stifle the accent. The man stretched, weaving gloved hands against the back of his head. A grin appeared, unearthly and almost inhuman, the ends going from ear to ear. "I suggest ya calm down, son."

[contentincloset.livejournal.com]

That he'd missed the man before bothered the ninja for how it reminded him of his decreased powers in the place, yet he was more annoyed for being told to calm down. As though he really had a reason to be calm.

"Why the hell should I?" he demanded, voice still strong and firm, yet no longer at the level of a shout. He was far from calming down, but with the person in view, there was no reason to waste his energy with either shouting or moving to attack.

He'd been in the same room as the Head Doctor on more than one occasion, and each time there had been some kind of barrier blocking the man from harm. While he didn't know the methods of this new leader, he had no intention of making a fool of himself by hitting yet another of the invisible blockades. Until he knew more, or had an answer from Harrington, he would be keeping his position by the doors.

[damned-soldiers.livejournal.com]

The man would ask why. He might as well have been asking why the sky could be so blue. Maybe he came from a setting where blue skies were lacking; it wouldn't surprise him. Regardless, Claude maintained his posture, sliding his grin into something more amicable. "Dunno," he mused. "Just seems smarter than attackin' a man fer unintentional eavesdroppin'."

A hand detached long enough for a dismissive wave while he stopped grinning long enough to drop the informality for a bit. "Why don't we introduce ourselves, hm?" He lazily saluted with one free hand. "Major Claude Harrington, at your service."

[contentincloset.livejournal.com]

If this man really thought that "eavesdropping" was the full reason for Kurogane's irritation, he was more idiotic than his voice indicated. Despite that, there were reasons for the ninja not to simply jump the man and get the answers he wanted. His lacking weapon, the possibility of a force-field, even the fact that the man was an underling... all were more grounding reasons than attacking just because he'd been listened in on.

"Don't think I'm an idiot. I've got more reasons than that to beat down a lackey like you," he sneered, then watched as the man presented himself like the soldier he was, salute and all. Kurogane had yet to be in a world where he could understand this kind protocol, but he did know the battlefield well enough. The positioned hand was as much a greeting as the introduction and, if nothing else, he could respect when an enemy was decent enough to give his name first.

Though his eyes didn't move from the soldier, he allowed his head to fall enough for a nod as he gave the name he'd used since entering Tomoyo's service, "Kurogane. And if you're 'at my service' then start talking. What the hell's your game?"

[damned-soldiers.livejournal.com]

Good, good. He was responding. If anything, 'Kurogane' seemed more furious than hellbent, which Claude could appreciate to an extent. Not so much being commanded to talk, of course, but at least the other was willing to converse. Ignoring the reference to a 'beat down', the soldier hummed in contemplation at the question.

"My 'game' is ta sit here an' take down reports," he replied after a moment, informality creeping in once more. "Boring if ya ask me, but the Eagle's orders are law." Here, the man paused as if hit by a sudden realization. "Goddamn, son, did ya not hear the announcement?"

[contentincloset.livejournal.com]

"I didn't mean you!" Kurogane barked on another flare of anger.

With the man continuing to act as though Kurogane was an idiot, the ninja didn't know how much he would be able to restrain himself before making good on his violent threats. He'd never done well with people like this.

"I meant this whole damn military! Your boss - 'Eagle' or whatever - what's he trying to do here?"

[damned-soldiers.livejournal.com]

Of course. Mr. Kurogane had to take the predictable route and claim interest in the overall operation, not what was in front of him. It was a pity--almost pathetic, actually--for one reason.

"Ya know," Claude started, "if ya actually think about it, General Aguilar pretty much spelled it out in his last few talking-to's." The man sniffed, utterly amused. "Yer all experiments, goin' through a rat's maze, blah, blah, blah-- I mean, I could just repeat them word-fer-word if ya'd like." Granted, Kurogane likely wanted specifics, the motives behind motives, but how was a lowly major supposed to know about that in detail?

To share with a buzzard with a fuse of a tissue, of all people.