A stroll downtown

[Ashley Cohen]

The diminutive Lord strolled down the streets of downtown weighing the changes and potential outcomes that could occur from such a vacuum of power. On one hand, she was a Carthian and should welcome the opportunity with open arms. Yet on the other hand, the petite blond awoke every evening in the exact same state she was in when she died in the 1800s and she knew intimately well that too much change was inherently dangerous.

The Damned were the epitome of stasis and when shaken too hard and too often by change, they could become volatile and unstable. It was a fight that Ashley battled every evening. And with the experience of thousands of nights, time seemed to flow and ebb differently. A decade seemed so brief and the shit storm that happened in a matter of months seemed like watching a car wreck. Ashley had no choice but to proceed cautiously as it was part of her curse.

While her current plans remained unphased, Ashley still had to consider potential moves that could be made. The walk helped her think of what tomorrow could hold, for better or for worse. It also served as a idle distraction from the normal routine. She had spent all day in her haven and held little interest of dining in and spending another evening cooped up.

Ashley's thoughts shift towards the hunt, towards the blood...

"Some shit just never changes..." Ashley said softly with a wicked smile.

[Dillon Connery]

There is a quiet squeak from high in the air. It's the kind of noise that is so subtle, mortal men and women rarely pay attention to it. Even at this time of night, there is enough activity downtown that one little squeak would go unnoticed.

Ashley would find it impossible not to notice, however.

On that small squeak, rides the challenge of an overwhelming Predator. Hellish, demonic fury on leathery wings... a fireball with rending talons, or something out of The Lord of the Rings. Even though the form is alien, the Beast itself is somehow... familiar.

The bat that carries it drops down to alight on a branch of one of the many decorative trees that adorn the streets, swinging down to an inverted perch. It is jet black, and much larger than the common creatures that fly around this area. When it is sure that no mortals are looking to see what it's about to do, one wing unfurls and stretches. The light that filters through the skin webbed across its long digits seems as red as blood, and the little claws at the end give a wiggle.

The big black bat is waving at her.

Dillon normally doesn't reveal himself in this way when in a different shape, preferring that he remain anonymous. Kindred and kine alike scurry along beneath him, ignorant, and he simply watches. Usually, what he'd do right now is dive into a deserted alleyway, shift, and just happen to walk out at the right time, leaving none the wiser. But given the joke he'd made in Elysium, he simply can't resist, this time.

OOC

Whisper - since this thread is a non-sticky that is still open, it happens after their convo in ECXXVI

[Ashley Cohen]

Ashley holds her hand to her chest because of a mixture of surprise and fear. She feels no skip to a heart that has failed to beat for longer than she cares to remember. The girl and monster align to keep it that way, as the press of the other predator nearly causes her to break into a full sprint to gain distance from the threat. Ashley stays unnatural still as her eyes narrow, recognizing that exact feeling.

Those primal feelings seem so specifically tailored to the individual who incites them. Ashley often feels the need to exert her superiority over others; Whether that means rending them limb from limb or turning them into a pliable tool that is at her beck and call, depends on the individual. Ashley can almost count on one hand the amount of damned within Sacramento who evoke the other side of the monster; The nightmarish fear.

The feeling of being eviscerated at any second sparks Ashley's imagination. She feels her ribcage being rend asunder, and organs that no longer have any function, spilling out to the ground, leaving her breathless. Ashley finds it a strange feeling, considering she no longer draws any breath, yet she knows of one Savage that leaves her breathless.

Another feeling frozen in time...

A smile pulls upon her lips at the movement of the wings. Her hand draws away from her chest, causing her necklace to stir as her hand moves upward to rest upon her chin. She tilts her head to the side, thoroughly amused, and quite happy that all her internals are not splayed out across the sidewalk.

"Somehow I don't think a Brazilian is going to cut it..." Ashley concedes defeat on the fuzzy department.

[Dillon Connery]

Batdillon's head gives a little jerk toward an adjacent alleyway. A clear meet me in there message if there ever was one. While it's true that he manages to give the shape of a bat an amazing amount of personality, that real bats simply do not have, it must just be the imagination that caused his eyebrows to waggle.

Bats don't even have eyebrows.

After a twitch of ears, he takes flight. The motion is well-practiced, releasing the branch and stretching wings at the same time, pumping furiously to carry him off into the night.

If Ashley follows him in, she will spot him sitting on the stoop of a shop's side entrance. Still a bat, but waiting for her to come say hi.

Dillon isn't a showoff, and he has no real ego about the whole thing. But he never gets to take a little pride and literally show off.

[Ashley Cohen]

Ashley heads into the alley, stepping carefully around a discarded box until she catches sight of the winged rodent. She comes to a halt, looking up at Dillon with a smile lighting her face from the amusement of it all. "Way to own the stereotype."

Ashley's hand unconsciously drifts towards her necklace, as she thinks of the crucifix she normally wears. Instead the ironic words "Drink Me" hang from a silver chain.

"Do you want to hang out?" Ashley giggles. She really cannot help herself.

[Dillon Connery]

If Ashley has never before seen a bat facepalm, she has now. Dillon tucks his nose under the fold of his wing, and gives his head a little shake. All you can see is ears wiggling.

In truth, though, he appreciates a vampire with a sense of humor. Even if he has the wisdom not to voice it all the time, Dillon Connery has been forever plagued with a sometimes dark and inappropriate satirical viewpoint.

By the time the Gangrel is shaped like a man again, he is standing upright on his feet. The transformation is difficult to describe, but it is less like a chameleon shifting color, and much more like an Octopus changing its pattern and texture. Leathery skin and black fur become equally black cotton and polyester and slightly pale flesh. There is a swell in size that by all rights should produce a whoosh of air for all of the space that is being suddenly displaced. For the briefest moment, almost too quick to see, there is a truly bizarre creature that is neither one or the other. If Dillon ever wanted to send a mortal into a hysterical panic, this would certainly be a good way to do it.

The Beast within the Reeve transforms as well. Its aspect becomes no less demonic, but decidedly more canine. The roar of one overpowering voice in Dillon's mind becomes three hellish growls. Six nostrils snort ash into every corner of his psyche. There is not one ounce of subtlety or benign complacence as a result of the shift.

As for the Man, Dillon could blend in more or less anywhere with his current attire. A plain black button down with the sleeves rolled up to the thick part of his forearms, slacks, and Doc Marten combat boots. Whether he intends to stay on patrol, or slip into one of the more popular clubs later on, he won't look terribly out of place.

More than anything else, his look - and looks - compliment the company he keeps.

"Might be tricky for you to hang with me," he says with with a sly, lopsided smirk as he closes the distance to the tiny Lord. "But I'm certainly up for hanging with you."

One might infer that he does this a lot, going so seamlessly back into using his legs for mobility again. Dillon lifts one hand out, the tips of his casually indicating fingers stopping less than an inch from the depth of the vee in Ashley's shirt collar. "Though I wonder if this is supposed to be some sort of challenge?"

He could be referring to words on the necklace, or he could be referring to the sheer material of the top exposing her bra. Hazel eyes fearlessly explore both.

[Ashley Cohen]

As Dillon transforms, Ashley cannot help but take a step back and freeze in place. The horrific transformation terrifies Ashley in ways words cannot even begin to describe, yet there is a strange rush in the experience of feeling anything so vividly. She is left speechless and stunned; his words seem like a echo and time seems to slow. With his hand gesture, her frozen stance melts and cold instinct replaces fear.

"Do not move." The petite lord demands unconsciously out of self-preservation with the full sway of her blood mixed with every ounce of her will. A second later, her rational mind realizes what she just did. Her hand moves to her chest for a moment. "I...I am sorry." Fear flashes through her face. "I didn't mean to freak..."

Ashley head drops as she casts her eyes to the ground, in the same manner a kid would if scolded by their parent or how a predator breaks eye contact with the alpha to show submissiveness.

  Mesmerize

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2013-07-15 02:21:59		Ashley Cohen rolls 12 to Mesmerize (10 Again, WillPower)		2, 1, 3, 10, 9, 7, 9, 10, 3, 2, 3, 6, 7, 4		4 successes

[Dillon Connery]

  Yes ma'am

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2013-07-15 09:18:08		Dillon Connery rolls 10 to resist Mesmerize; Resolve + Composure + Blood Potency (10 Again)		4, 3, 2, 9, 1, 5, 4, 4, 6, 5		1 success

It's startling, to have the desperate power of Kindred blood wielded against you, so suddenly. But in actuality, if it were any other Gift, Dillon wouldn't have a problem. The rational part of his mind understands the self-preservation instinct very well, and doesn't blame Ash one iota for her response.

If this were another Gangrel, yelping and displaying their claws in fear, Dillon could let it slide (as long as the talons went right back in). If this were a Nosferatu hissing and snarling waves of fear, Dillon would calmly bid for peace. If it were a Shadow, disappearing into the darkness, he might laugh merrily, apologize, and ask them to come out again.

Dillon isn't laughing.

She doesn't realize what she did.

She doesn't know about Caitlyn.

Adonia destroyed that monster once and for all. This isn't he.

The hand that so gallantly indicated either Ashley's jewelry or underwear is still hovering there, but the hand is tensed into a claw. Not a claw of Protean, nor the threat of one, but the simple act of Dillon restraining himself from instinctively gripping the tiny Lord by the throat and throttling her until her beautiful head rolls off her shoulders.

Slowly, the hand clenches into a fist, and the Reeve tries to force it to lower. It doesn't.

"I understand."

The words slip between teeth held tightly together. Dillon's large fangs are distended.

"I do. But if you knew what happened the last time one of your Blood held me still with their words in a dark alley, you'd be thanking me for not ripping you to pieces."

This is tied to a madness that Dillon thought he had long buried. The fist hovering between them uncoils, and ever so slowly moves to hold Ashley's chin. A gesture like a lover preparing a kiss. Except the look on his face is that of a barely contained psychotic.

"Part of me still wants to. I'm telling it to stop."

  But it's proving difficult

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2013-07-16 11:10:28		Dillon Connery rolls 6 to keep his cool; Resolve + Composure (10 Again)		5, 2, 3, 2, 3, 4		failure

[Ashley Cohen]

Ashley remains submissive with the unnatural stillness that shedding the mortal coil can do to a girl. The lapse in control by the grip of fear is not something Ashley wishes to experience again, as the rational mind churns the collateral damage for a way to survive. Ashley knows there are only two viable options; Act or wait.

Ashley realizes she can push harder from a stronger stance, but it has the potential to incite a fight where one may be avoided. In doing nothing, there is the potential to get into a fight where one could have been avoided. Worst case scenario, she would have to call upon other powers of her blood and try to make it out of the alley into public for any chance of seeing another night.

Wait...

Ashley consigns herself to reaction over action. She cannot control how this all plays out, but she can control the part she plays...

[Wolven Pryde]

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