Encounterlogs
Elanoras Odd Encounter Sr Mikhael 240601
In the mysterious and politically charged night of Haven, Elanora finds herself entangled in the dangerous tapestry woven by The Golden Shadow, a ruthless mercenary group known for its involvement in the dark corners of political intrigue. In a spacious, elegantly sinister living space, she receives an unexpected invitation from a burner phone, beckoning her to a meeting shrouded in secrecy and potential peril. Despite the ominous vibe, her curiosity, coupled with an underlying need to delve into the town's secrets and perhaps a touch of her own rebellious spirit against her partner Mikhael's expectations, propels her forward. She sneaks out, leaving the comfort of her penthouse, utilizing Mikhael's car, and embarks on a journey through the night, guided only by the address given and a GPS that seems as lost as she is amidst the shadowy alleys of Haven.
Upon her arrival at the decrepit building, the sound of an otherworldly rave fills the air, a facade for the monstrous gathering that lurks beneath. Elanora navigates through a crowd intoxicated by darkness, her senses tingling with the unmistakable presence of supernatural entities engaging in a twisted spectacle of power and hedonism. Her determination leads her further into the abyss, where she descends into a hidden chamber, a sanctum for the creatures of the night and The Golden Shadow's elite. There, surrounded by beings who embody the essence of danger, she boldly claims her place, invoking Mikhael's name and demanding respect and attention amidst a room where the lines between predator and prey blur. Her audacity and calm demeanor in face of the menacing audience before her mark a pivotal moment in the night, asserting her not just as a mere envoy but as a formidable presence in her own right. Yet, outside the confines of this den of monsters, Mikhael prepares for any eventuality, ready to intervene should the need arise, highlighting a silent camaraderie and preparedness that belies the night's chaotic veneer.
(Elanora's odd encounter(SRMikhael):SRMikhael)
[Fri May 31 2024]
In a Spacious, Suave Living Space with View of the Bay
This formal living room is spacious, a blend of modern luxury and historic tranquility. Dark wallpaper with swirling silver patterns adorns the walls, adding a touch of sophistication to the space, creating an illusion of expansiveness, serving as a central point in the penthouse, seamlessly connecting the hallways and foyer. Strategically placed indoor plants breathe life into the space, harmonizing with the abstract, refined decor.
Black, hard marble floors stretch elegantly throughout the apartment, lending an airy feel to the residence. The high ceiling, painted in a shadowy darkness, is adorned with clouded figures and warped shades blending seamlessly in a foreboding visual illuminated by a minimalist chandelier with cascading glass orbs that bathe the room in soft, ambient glow.
A glass balcony nestled between broad windows offers a scenic view towards the east, showcasing Haven's Bay framed by hazy blurs of old-growth forest. In the distance, the tempestuous Atlantic Ocean captivates with its restless waves, shifting from stony depths in colder seasons to coastal blues in warmer ones. Despite the open floor plan, the space exudes a sense of elevation, with steps on either side of the connecting hallway adding to its grandeur.
It is night, about 71F(21C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(In this encounter, the target stumbles upon a secret meeting of The Golden Shadow. Among gathered in the dimly lit room is a political figure from Haven, revealing their involvement with this ruthless mercenary group. The target must decide whether to confront them, gather more information, or escape unnoticed. The decisions made in this encounter could lead to a complicated web of political intrigue, betrayal, and danger as they delve deeper into the corruption of Haven.)
Deep in the darkness of the night, the town of Haven descent into its elusive, silent depths, the living area that Elanora is within is bask in the quiet of it. The dimly lit surroundings are illuminated so scarcely that the house plants that are just a tad too large than they should be create an imposing backdrop, stretching like tendrils to the ceiling of the penthouse, while the many gloom and doom portraits around the house cast a decrepit aura, a foreboding pressure across the hall they're placed in. The crown jewel of the foyer stands like a wraith, the limbless statue on the pedestal with its wicked horns and black-blood accents etched into agony seem all the more alive from far, in perpetual suffering.
The only saving grace is the waning crescent of the moon nearly at its zenith in the witching hours now, casting its glow down from the heavens into the expanse of the living room. It's light dances across the marble floors, their silver streaks, reflected in mirror-sheen to a myriad of hues that seem as if the floor is alit underneath Elanora. Though shut, the massive windows spanning the room give insight to all that maay transpire in the town. Some music in the distance, lights cast to the sky of another nightclub yet active in these hours and populated, to a few of the lavish dining locations still open for business. Alive 24/7, keeping up a strange schedule like every member of the town that they cater to.
Though, from the next building over, something different might catch the eye if one were to look. The complex towering over is easily visible, the windows similarly paned wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling baring the sight to a fancy gathering of sorts, it appears. If only one were to take closer look it would be much too easy to see the dangerous notion of their amassed populace, a circle surrounded by a plethora of robed figures, with what seems to be a young woman that is bound tightly, likely in the midst of a ritualistic sacrifice. Just two floors below, past the darkness of the one between the two, a bunch of mobster looking individuals seem to be finalizing a trade. The exquisitely decorated kitchen, visible just by being perpendicular to the building which Elanora is in, in another room, bares the sight of weaponry in crates and caskets stuffed with hay, two individuals between them shaking hands. All the norms of such a night, stretching ever on in a plethora of wicked acts that fuel the worst of the worst in Have.
Yet, the most striking thing isn't what happens outside. It is what happens there, in the living room. Something intriguing, if Elanora were to at all cast her attention that way. A black phone that is definitely not hers, maybe a burner, given to the other owner of the penthouse for a singular purpose, perhaps. It's alit now, buzzing with a single message from a blocked phone that doesn't accept return text or calls. The black screen is illuminated only by aa golden dagger plunged through a shadowy globe, and a text reads next to it plainly. "Cordially invited. Do not deny us again, we can earn plenty in partnership. Gathering is soon." The block continues, an address somewhere in Devilwood Drive, just out near the forest, much more vibrant than the text above, in its own little bubble of a secondary text.
Just as soon as the buzzing of the phone ends, the overbearing silence returns. Basks the room in it, almost in belated breath of a decision to be made by none other than Elanora. Does she let her curiosity win, does she meddle in affairs she probably shouldn't, or does she leave the phone to its own, ignore it just as its rightful owner does, sleeping in the other room? The question thickens the air, shadows over Elanora, almost as if to see whatever will she do...
Elanora yawns slightly as she lounges on the sofa rubbing absently at her wrists. She was in a bad mood which is why she wasn't in the bedroom sleeping at that moment. She was in too much of a bad mood to sleep and her wrists were too sore from the spar that had occured not so long ago, leaving a scattering of bruises on her wrists. Her topaz eyes gaze absently out absently in the living room and she gets up from the sofa to walk over to the door to the balcony outside. The sweet summer air blows in from an open slit and she walks out to enjoy the night air for a moment as well as the ocean smell from the bay wafting in on the breeze. Her eyes catch the transcation taking place across the way, her eyebrows lifting at the sight of the bound sacrifice. Maybe they were having an orgy. So kinky. So haven. She shakes her head, not particularly interested into getting herself into trouble and she was coming back into the living room when the buzzing catches her attention. Her head tilts her ears trying to find the focus of the buzzing and she soon homes in on the burner phone set on the bottom rack of the large coffee table. Picking it up, she squints at it and the message sprawling across it and then sighs as it appears. Setting down the phone, she commits the location to memory and walks off towards the bedroom.
The door to the bedroom swings open without a single noise or squeak, well kept in that pent house apartment and she ducks her head in, peering in consideration at the man was sleeping on the bed. He had seemed so exhausted when he had gone to sleep only not so long ago. She sighs as she pads over silently to the side of the bed, stealing his car keys from the bedside table before giving the man a soft kiss on the forehead. That done, she sneaks back out of the room, closing the door behind her as she twirls the keys around her finger. It was the small hours of the night. Surely there would be no one there to care about her driving on the wrong side of the road right??? Riightttt? She thought to herself as she pulled on her boots at the door and slowly made her way out of the apartment, locking the steel door firmly behind her.
Not a peep, not a sound. Elanora steals the keys perfectly from the beside, and leaves for the door easily. There isn't even the hint of a snore at her back, as someone is asleep like a corpse. The steel door's well-oiled hinges grind shut silently, and she leaves that penthouse for the cold of the night outside. A different kind of silence. More lively, more alive, like static perpetually in someone's ears while she makes her way for the elevator. It opens before she even gets to it, inviting a descent to hell or a way to salvation, whichever it may be. The ride down is smooth, silent, undisturbed. It sounds like nearly everyone is asleep within the confines of the building - save for a few she passes when she leaves the elevator.
On her way through to the exit where the car she stole presumably is, some of the doors give the telltale sign of living, breathing people behind them. Moans from one, laughters from another, screams from elsewhere. It is all very Haven, no matter whichever way she turns and looks. Either someone is in the midst of a party, sex, or some violent act - or all together in a warped mix of decadence. So very Haven. The steel backdoor of the apartments open up at her behest, the air is crisp, slightly chilly in the dead of the night, and ominous at these particular hours. It all awaits her, whatever she may want to do - the world out there is her oyster, with the pressing matter of that odd bit of text looming above her like the sword of Damocles, not a clue as to what it may have been about, yet.
Elanora smiles as she walks through the corridor of the apartments, listening to the noises behind the closed doors as with her astute hearing. Given she knew pretty much everyone who lived in that corridor that led into the alley, it's extra interesting for her as she stops here and there to listen. It seems to improve her mood, her finger swinging the keys round and round before she pushes open the door to the alley. She takes a big breath of the crisp night air, sighing softly at the hint of the ocean on the night breeze as she makes her way slowly over to the porche. She mashes the buttons on the remote until it unlocks silently, the golden lights inside the cabin turning on and opens the door for herself, sliding into the drivers seat that was on the wrong side of the vehicle. "Urg America..." She says in disgust as she looks around at the console of the porche. Keyless entry of course ... She presses the start button as she tucks the keys into her bra. No pockets in a woman's wear of course. She sighs again as she slowly pulls out of the alley - almost getting swiped by a car driving along Paine as she comes out of the alley. "Ooops..." She says as she swurves across the road while trying to input the address into the GPS of the car. "Navigate! Navigate!" She yells at the stupid voice assist program.
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That Porsche, beast of a machine, is still a machine. The vehicle beeps before the near-miss would've been a sure impact, tires locked with smart breaks to prevent collusion, and as soon as the danger is gone, so is Elanora. Out of the alleyway, it takes a few tries before the in-built GPS picks up her command to get on with it, and the town of Haven is laid out in a three dimensional map that almost seems holographic with some intricate design work that has the panel built within the console.. And there she is. The Porshe in the middle of the road, with a golden streak cutting through the Haven roads, different coloration for where the traffic might be clogged, but at this hour, the roads are sparce, people are asleep, and what few are out there, are up to no good.
She takes off on the completely opposite side of the road without a single care for the traffic - and it is her luck, nothing more that she doesn't encounter a drunk driver while the GPS leads her through entirely the wrong alleyways and makes her circle several loops around Temple Street before she can hope to make it to her destination. Was there a time period for the gathering she read of? If only she opened it, even if it meant being found out later that she did. The GPS nonetheless does its job dutifully, takes Elanora all the way through the Devilwood with only minor swerving once she's on track. The scattered houses and buildings leave their place to thick plots of untamed forest, going on and on into darkness. Until the headlights turn on automatically, since she didn't turn them on when she begun driving, and they illuminate only one decrepit building. More of a two-story shack, half rotting, roof full of holes. Some light spills out of it, streaks of gold and white and often a myriad rainbow display like a rave takes place inside. Something the unruly college kids cooked up, perhaps, but it is surely out of any deputies sight. Only thing that cements these possible observations is the din of a faint electronic music that vibrates through the soundproof windows, heard only, barely audibly.
Elanora drives along the roads, occasionally remembering to drive on the correct side of the road and loving the small alleys where a car is forced to drive in the middle - that was the easiest of course. It takes her 3 loops of temple street to tilt her head to the side going, "What the fuck... I feel like I've driven here before..." Still, she's helpless with the GPS and is bullied by it to go around and around until it feels beeps to let her know she's at the right location. She manages to remember to put the car into park- thankfully the handbreak is automatically applied by the smart car. She sits still in the dark car for a moment, waiting, listening before recalling the address and double checking on her phone. "Yup this is definately the place..." She says to herself, glancing over at the building where the faint electronic music is pulsing from. She gets out of the car, closing the door as silently as she can behind her before slowly walking over to the building. Her finger comes up to tug on her lower lip as she considers the invitiation again before sighing and making her way in.
Every step Elanora takes when she's out of the car increases the tension in her chest, or maybe its just the pressure of the car keys that press against her there. The sound of music increases at a constant. Electro for sure, from a non-brand, indie disc jockey that is likely another college student that's trying to rebel against society by playing nothing mainstream or she's heard of before. No one even registers her intrusion uninvited, its a rave, and the opening of the doors only gets mist to waft out past her legs, slip into the air like a wicked wraith as laughter, screams, and everything mingles with the thundering booms of the sound system that shakes her to her bones. Quite a few inebriated people are present, some vomiting out on a corner, some making out, some more. Limbs are thrown to the air en masse in a cacaphony of screams and dancing, everyone grinding up on one another in fervent vigor and drug-addled ardor that tells she arrived at the zenith of their fun. There must be at least half a hundred people crammed into this very area alone, and the crowd, alongside the colorful decorations strewn about left and right glittering in the smoke makes it hard to tell that they're currently squatting for a party in a run-down building near the forests of the town.
However, Elanora has keen eyes and keener ears. In the crowd, there are far more than it would seem. If she were to look just a little too closely, past the veil of normalcy, she'd notice the two jock-dudes armwrestling near the wall on a table they've usurped are snarling at one another in their competition. Another couple heatedly making out is more than it seems - the woman pushed againt the wall isn't even aware of the fangs that are about to score into her neck in their tangle of limbs. A girl is carried on the shoulders of a big, muscular dude, and the way she screams with the music captivates far more attention from her entourage than the music or the party ever does - they almost seem to be drooling to fawn over her. Beyond all of them, there are wanderers. Definitely not the college crowd sort, with earpieces subtly utilized, spoken into, their weapons, albeit expertly hidden, are still strapped and jutting out to the discerning eye under their clothes. The undertones of the scent of fear is thick in the air. Not from them, not from the supernaturals enjoying themselves - which there seems to be quite a lot of. Maybe even the mundane sort that are in here aren't aware of exactly what transpires - yet something deep inside of them knows they have no business being here. Elanora, far from a creature of the normal world herself, should be to feel this just as easily. In every breath, the emotions that swirl in the air flood her senses with strength. These are prime feeding grounds, but for whom, it isn't clear.
Elanora pauses as the doors open for her to spill out the rave infront of her. Topaz eyes sweep over everyone and everything, taking note of things as she walks forward a few steps so that the door can swing back closed behind her. Her dress and boots are not out of place at all during the rave and her body immediately takes on the sway of the music, her hips sashaying slightly as she makes her way through the crowd. She's an expert at diverting wondering hands, dodging them with giggles and smiles while soothing hurt egos with a pat on the shoulder. Still, she listens to everything, takes in everything as she makes her way slowly through the crowd.
As Elanora sashays and sways through the crowd, she may as well be in a pack of starving wolves. All around, as a rave begets, people want contact, to touch, to feel. For every hand she dodges, she encounters another two, and for every kiss she ducks away from, she has to endure a bump here and a bump there. It's overbearing, far too many drunk and drugged people in one room, with far too much music that clouds every ounce of judgement. She nearly stumbles into two college girls that are vehemently making out right in the middle of everyone - and before she can sway past them, they pull her in to the embrace. They don't show her the same courtesy, but the way their grip is subtly far, far greater than both of their petite statures conveys something not at all normal in them. She may catch just the hint of a pair of red eyes in the sway while she's hugged, squeezes between veritable mountains, squished and adored in a plethora of affectionate compliments and maybe a few too many interested pinches at her hips before her captors release her.
She doesn't hear much, truly, in the thunderdome of the rave. The lights, the smoke, the wafting mist all across underfoor. The latter is likely a boon, just as her high heels are that keep her elevated several inches off of the ground - because if the steps she takes and how soft or how squishy, as well as how glass-like some of the things she steps on are any indication, a drop to the floor would likely end anyone in the ER with several shots for rabies for good measure, just to be safe. Yet, deep in enemy territory, she chances upon exactly the sort of people that would've sent that text. A young looking pair, militaristic even in their pose. The man leans down to whisper something to the woman after checking his watch, and the woman confirms something by touching her earpiece. "Orders to round up the rest." The hushed whisper is barely caught, "Leave the flock to have fun," Another whisper, "Reconvene in ten, downstairs."
Though more is said, it is impossible to hear. Who knows where downstair is - and it seems like it may be an ordeal to chase those two through this crowd, or maybe a bit too overt. All around the party there is movement that is distinctively different than the regulars having their ectastic moment with ecstasy - its the same sort of people. Militaristic, gruff, or too well dressed for a rave. The pair of snarling competitors in the far wall are gone, trailing away - so is the leech that was about to drain someone dry. If Elanora were to take a look over her shoulder then, she's that the girl is already hyperventilating, pale as bone, lumped against the wall and bleeding from several bites all across. No one spares her another look, or even a secondary glance. The petite girls that took Elanora hostage are out of sight, just like that too - as if they were never even there in the first place, leaving the party with a notable absence of predators.
Save for the obviously faen girl that's still riding a buff dude's shoulders, she's having the time of her life being fawned by a semi-circle of simps that cater to her every desire while she's paraded around like a prom queen. Her top goes flying, for a moment or two, and the music blares louder for it, so does the crowd.
Elanora is an expert at dodging people but apparently not as expert as she thought as she was dragged into the cuddles of those two other girls. Her eyes roll skyward as she puts up with it for a few moments, enduring the rubs on her bottom and using her hands to dodge sloppy kisses until her bad mood overtakes her and instead she starts catching eyes. "Kiss the other woman there until you both come. Don't stop until then." She snarls at the girl before stalking off. Luminious yellow that looks like molten metal flashes as she sways her way over to the two discussing going downstairs and she dances around in a slow circle, spinning at her hips as she looks around to note the lack of all the other predators in the room. Well... she was a predator too and so she stalks her way where the two disappeared, making her way through the crowd towards the wall in that direction so that she can find her way downstairs to whereever it may lead.
She disappears amongst the crowd. The two that she had tried to put under hypnosis, who had only laughed at her in a cackle like a pair of banshees and adored her all the more for it, are already long gone. She may see the both of them arm in arm, tagging after the other pair of snarling wrestlers. Behind them, the leech licks his lips. The entourage of what are evidently guards follow along after the whole of them, and it is not a difficult task at all for Elanora to navigate her way past the treshold leading to the other rooms. She's not particularly sneaky, but she doesn't have to be in a place like this, anyway, where everyone is absorbed with one another.
As soon as she's past the sanctity of the mist-wraithed entry, tagging a fair distance behind the veritable group, it is as if there was no party at all at her back. Silence reign supreme here, and there are only the scarce lights of the rave illuminating the way, the smoke that wafts knee-high all around scatters it all around and all across. The walls are bug-eaten, the furniture is moth-eaten, everything around here seems to be nibbled on by one thing or another, broken walls almost man-size lay insight to the plumbing going through it with rats that crawl around en masse. The disgusting feeling of stepping on condoms and used drug syringes is absent here. There is only the soft woood beneath her heels, too sodden to clank or make noise- and her position allows her to see perfectly how the gaggle of predators follow the guards down to a corner.
They open a latch within the smoke underfoot, and its as if the air is sucked into it, mist trails down the depths of what must be a metal ladder as a slow descent begins on their part. Their arguments never cease. Nothing of substantial value, nothing of interest. The two demonborns tease the jocky werewolves, the vampire keeps a brooding distance, the vampires try to hit on their aggressors. All in good fun - all very Haven, while the guards, ever stoic, follow after them. In this dimmed area, it is easier to see that each and every one of them wear an insignia, a brooch, a belt buckle, watch or ring that in one way or another carries the mark of a golden dagger plunged through a shadow globe. They leave the latch open, as if she's invited to follow.
She disappears amongst the crowd. The two that she had tried to put under hypnosis, who had only laughed at her in a cackle like a pair of banshees and adored her all the more for it, are already long gone. She may see the both of them arm in arm, tagging after the other pair of snarling wrestlers. Behind them, the leech licks his lips. The entourage of what are evidently guards follow along after the whole of them, and it is not a difficult task at all for Elanora to navigate her way past the treshold leading to the other rooms. She's not particularly sneaky, but she doesn't have to be in a place like this, anyway, where everyone is absorbed with one another.
As soon as she's past the sanctity of the mist-wraithed entry, tagging a fair distance behind the veritable group, it is as if there was no party at all at her back. Silence reign supreme here, and there are only the scarce lights of the rave illuminating the way, the smoke that wafts knee-high all around scatters it all around and all across. The walls are bug-eaten, the furniture is moth-eaten, everything around here seems to be nibbled on by one thing or another, broken walls almost man-size lay insight to the plumbing going through it with rats that crawl around en masse. The disgusting feeling of stepping on condoms and used drug syringes is absent here. There is only the soft woood beneath her heels, too sodden to clank or make noise- and her position allows her to see perfectly how the gaggle of predators follow the guards down to a corner.
They open a latch within the smoke underfoot, and its as if the air is sucked into it, mist trails down the depths of what must be a metal ladder as a slow descent begins on their part. Their arguments never cease. Nothing of substantial value, nothing of interest. The two demonborns tease the jocky werewolves, the vampire keeps a brooding distance, the vampires try to hit on their aggressors. All in good fun - all very Haven, while the guards, ever stoic, follow after them. In this dimmed area, it is easier to see that each and every one of them wear an insignia, a brooch, a belt buckle, watch or ring that in one way or another carries the mark of a golden dagger plunged through a shadow globe. They leave the latch open, as if she's invited to follow.
Elanora's nostrils flare slightly as she follows the group, a hand reaches down to her dress where her sunglasses are set and pulls them over her eyes. The inside of the lenses were tinted yellow, the outside mirror. Mayhaps she was thrown off a bit at the fact that her hypnosis didn't work and wasn't taking second chances but the yellow tint doesn't seem to her affect her keen night vision at all as she slowly follows along the with the group. Her talons tap against her thighs but she holds her head high. Pretending to be a victim in a time like this would surely signal death. She would have to channel as much of the predator within her as possible. Her topaz eyes, covered by the sunglasses frown slightly at the latch but she approaches, putting a hand on the guardrail and setting her heels down onto the rung in disgust. Climbing ladders in heels. Urg. She slowly starts to make her way down, not trying to be subtle because again... Heels on metal stairs.
Click, clack, clang.
Elanora descends after the others do, not at all subtle, but her luck would have it, whatever drowns out all the sound here do the same. The fog devours every bit of her heels, as she descends in that mist down to what appears to be something of a tunnel. Brick walls, old world, tinted red and cascading all around. Age old burst piping drips water from within the ceiling, and there is a shallow channel separating two different walkways. It must've been a sewer entrance or something similar, because it smells like it too. Rust, mold and stale water. There gaggle of predators are way ahead of her, already turned to a corner, out of sight and their sounds slowly drowned away with each step that they take.
Not to be outdone, Elanora's chase of them is nothing short of valiant. Not everyone would follow a group of misfists such as this like her, not while there is still the looming threat of others following behind. Stuck between likely failure to retreat and her doom possibly ahead, she descends further and further. Upon bounding around the corner, she may just keenly enough catch the sight of the group disappear behind a massive door that is obviously built much, much later, the tunnel that hosts it possibly at least half a century or more older than it. It shuts behind them, but no sound of a latch or lock echoes - at the very least, for now, it is unlocked, and that gathering of monsters brews behind closed doors, now.
Elanora follows along the group, studying them while subtly her hand sends a text back home to the sleeping person whose phone she followed. Just a message to let him know where she went and the address just incase things got too shady. Her head turns glancing behind her but it's too late for regret. Too late to turn around given the others that would likely follow her. She exhales softly as she studies the massive door and then walks up to it, resting her hands on the massive handle. There was no room for stealth here. She'd just have to pretend she was invited. Since she was after all. Taking another break, she affixes the most bored and disapproving look on her face before pull the door open.
Maybe that was the most dangerous way to go about this. Surely the most straightforward method brought about the most reward, however. Her phone blares for a moment even as Elanora opens the door, and steps inside through the gilded entry that beckoned her in with each step of the way - not with promises of grandeur, though that was possibly a given, but if only to simply get out of the acrid smell that overtakes the long stretch of tunnels she endured that appears to go along whichever way, every way, on and on. Likely an interconnected system of sewers from the olden days that are forgotten beneath the claim of forestry. In fact, off in the distance, it is not difficult for her to see the crawling moss and wine and the tree roots that have splintered through the stone, likely outside. A beam of moonlight even casts inward, illuminating a single spot. If not for the smell, the whole place didn't lack for a gothic, picturesque charm.
As for the group that disappeared, they are exactly there, past the door. Elanora had just opened herself into a massive, circular room. Descending starcase on the pedestal of a platform she stood upon fills the expanse with lavish wealth and a muted din of comfort. Red carpets with golden tassles, plush pillows occupied by scantily clad men and women, littered in bite marks or otherwise a glazed, used look. Slaves. Dominating the center several dozen feet below her, a massive centerpiece circular table is host to everyone she saw and more. Monters each and every one of them.
The two pair of demonborns she was practically assaulted by sit on a single grand chair, one on the lap of the other, seemingly in the process of making out because plush lips with golden lipstick on their lips are messy and mingled into one. Their eyes, red and thick as blood both turn upon Elanora immediately. The werewolves, seated side to side, snarling forward in distaste and disterest as if they had to endure the filthy stench of the vampire sitting opposite from them digging into another woman on his lap turn as well. Perhaps the only reason she fled their nose was their distraction, the young man all dark and brooding, cradling a bleeding woman and showing affection in the form of kisses. Each of them stealing mouthfuls of flesh. He too turns upon Elanora. Silvery eyes full of vigor this deep in the night, stark in contrast to the yellow glare of the werewolves that are now dead silent. In fact, everyone is. All eyes are up upon Elanora, watching with belated breath as the several guards pull their weapons immediately from their side holsters, situated around, in militaristic garb. Mercenaries no doubt, all aiming at the door, now, though not yet taking a shot.
Maybe that was the most dangerous way to go about this. Surely the most straightforward method brought about the most reward, however. Her phone blares for a moment even as Elanora opens the door, and steps inside through the gilded entry that beckoned her in with each step of the way - not with promises of grandeur, though that was possibly a given, but if only to simply get out of the acrid smell that overtakes the long stretch of tunnels she endured that appears to go along whichever way, every way, on and on. Likely an interconnected system of sewers from the olden days that are forgotten beneath the claim of forestry. In fact, off in the distance, it is not difficult for her to see the crawling moss and wine and the tree roots that have splintered through the stone, likely outside. A beam of moonlight even casts inward, illuminating a single spot. If not for the smell, the whole place didn't lack for a gothic, picturesque charm.
As for the group that disappeared, they are exactly there, past the door. Elanora had just opened herself into a massive, circular room. Descending starcase on the pedestal of a platform she stood upon fills the expanse with lavish wealth and a muted din of comfort. Red carpets with golden tassles, plush pillows occupied by scantily clad men and women, littered in bite marks or otherwise a glazed, used look. Slaves. Dominating the center several dozen feet below her, a massive centerpiece circular table is host to everyone she saw and more. Monters each and every one of them.
The two pair of demonborns she was practically assaulted by sit on a single grand chair, one on the lap of the other, seemingly in the process of making out because plush lips with golden lipstick on their lips are messy and mingled into one. Their eyes, red and thick as blood both turn upon Elanora immediately. The werewolves, seated side to side, snarling forward in distaste and disterest as if they had to endure the filthy stench of the vampire sitting opposite from them digging into another woman on his lap turn as well. Perhaps the only reason she fled their nose was their distraction, the young man all dark and brooding, cradling a bleeding woman and showing affection in the form of kisses. Each of them stealing mouthfuls of flesh. He too turns upon Elanora. Silvery eyes full of vigor this deep in the night, stark in contrast to the yellow glare of the werewolves that are now dead silent. In fact, everyone is. All eyes are up upon Elanora, watching with belated breath as the several guards pull their weapons immediately from their side holsters, situated around, in militaristic garb. Mercenaries no doubt, all aiming at the door, now, though not yet taking a shot. (repost)
Tap tap tap. At least the sound of her heels is apparently as she lets the door swing silently closed behind her without any effort on her part. Her talons simply letting go of the handle. Her hips swing as she walks forward, seeming to ignore all the weapons pointed on her as she take a few more steps forward as if to gather everyone's attention. Not that their attention wasn't on her already. "Hello." She says in a voice that doesn't betray any hint of her being impressed or not at the decoration in this room that... lets go honest wasn't all that different to what was going on upstairs. "I was cordially invited." She says in a bored voice, looking down to study her talon like nails as if making sure that opening the door had not damaged them. "Mikhael couldn't make it himself. He's looking forward to my.... report though." The corner of her lips twitch slightly as she continues, uncaring of the weapons focused on her. Elanora stops infront of the first reasonably grand looking chair she comes upon, gazing upon the occupant with boredom and simply arches an eyebrow as if expecting them to move for her.
Tension takes over the room immediately. Confused glances pass between each guard, and weapons are lowered by many of them before slowly the rest follow suit like sheep to a flock. At Elanora's claim of coming on someone elses behalf, a few of the older looking ones grow stiff. Not particularly at her, but by the name alone, and several of them make scarce immediately. Whispering something among one another that is unintelligible. It isn't a regrouping, they're visibly fleeing to the dismay and distaste of the others that dominate the seats. The nearest of the bunch that Elanora approaches happens to be the dear vampire, who gives her a glazed look. Drunk off of the girl on her lap, and purring in delight without a hint of their earlier brooding as they size Elanora up - and promptly discard the woman on their lap to make space. "If you want to sit, I have a vacant spot right here," Their voice is almost singsong - yet whatever they intended to say is interrupted promptly by the duo of demonborn girls. They both slam their hands upon the table at once, cause cracks within the age old wood that groans, but it is nothing compared to their ire. They clearly know who Elanora spoke of, and in those red eyes there is only what appears to be fear. Maybe one of them even regrets touching Elanora now, earlier - who she might suspect might be the one that gave her the bruising pinch at her hip, now because she looks all flushed and sunken in her seat to let the other speak. "Take a seat," The dominant one commands immediately of Elanora, nods towards the reserved seat, one of the two larger thrones - not at the vacant smaller ones that they occupy.
It returns the brooding nature of the vampire who chicks his tongue, and the werewolves, who look more like frat boys, may as well be salivating at Elanora now that they realize she is not exactly an uninvited guest. Yet they're too busy shoving one another in their side-to-side seats to bother much with her at the moment. "Proof." One of the girls demand, not the one sulking. They ask for a form of identification, it seems - but it is exactly then that the doors above slam open once more. It is none other than the obviously fae-blooded chick that enters in an elevated eruption of mirth and amusement, skip to her step and bouncing forward even as she pulls down her top to cover her modesty. She is still living her best life, "Sorryyy," Her words hang on in a not so apologetic tone.
Her hands are stained in blood down to her elbows, and a lot more of it drips around her midriff, makes that flimsy white tank-top on her almost see through with blood. "I'm late, I hope you didn't wait for me long." Plush lips pout, and she draws herself up over the front rails of the elevated entry. The stairs aren't used, she makes to leap down - and disappears in a mist-clad eruption of pink, only for a small hummingbird to spin through the air, cut across and erupt in another cloud right at the other dominating throne, where the woman appears half-draped, legs hanging off one end, body on the other in a caricature of a pose as her bright, yellow as the sun locks trail to the floor in her dramatics. Another curl in, and she languidly stretches to sit properly, dominate her seat with an aura of airiness that are absent in wide, bright eyes full of blue. "What did I misss?"
Elanora stalks towards her seat and has barely sat down when the other woman covered in blood appears. She yawns, showing off her fangs in a way that shows she isn't impressed with the show. In a room full of predators that can hear ones heart beat, hers is steadily slow, barely above 60 as the pulse at her throat beats leisurely. No one had seen the arcane light that glowed around her ring after the doors had closed but she had slowned down her own heart, made it beat slow and steady with her own magic. All the better to pull of the act infront of a room who would easily sense one's fears. Her actings skills - another performance art she had mastered throughout the years along with singing and dancing allows her to put on her bored expression as her talons rap against the armrest of the small throne she now sat at. Her legs are presses together, set to the side, as regal as the other woman who just asked what she missed. "The proof is I'm here. And Mikhael will be very very angry if I don't get back to him within the hour." She smiles pleasantly, "I'm just here to watch and be impressed please... Go ahead." She gestures generously before lounging backwards. "Although... A nice little slave for a footstool would be nice." She gestures down towards her feet.
The fae-blood practically cackles where she is, kicking her legs back and forth under her desk on the opposite side of the table in glee with her arms brought under her chin. It's smooth transition how she leans her elbows forward and hosts her head within bloodied hands that still drip the fresh warm liquid. They're likely belonging to her own entourage from upstairs, the ducklings that were catering to her every whim. Bereft of it, the vampire scoffs, looks away and those silver eyes are elsewhere now, on one of the other slaves as if they command more of his interest while he licks his fangs. The total leather, emo attire he's clad in glistens in wet black, likely blood, under the dim light - and he coaxes yet another meal to his lap. A man this time, waifish, feminine, who obediently climbs to straddle his lap to rest his neck in the leech's black taloned hands. Opposite, the werewolves are like beaten dogs, trying to keep a facade of militaristic now at the sight of golden-haired woman that just entered the room to command her own seat - who, by the way, now runs through bloodied hands through her own hair, and each stroke leaves them not gold but a silvery sheen cascading down. The tail end of the motion leaves one stray lock to be curled around her index.
The demonborn girls, the meaker of the two, at least, interject, now. "You're not him.." She speaks quietly, only to earn a glare from her companion, who is now standing now instead of occupying someone's lap. Whatever their relationship is, it seems the sub and the dom change at a whim. Red eyes are upon Elanora once again, "He couldn't even come here himself, then what was the fucking point? We're not going to entertain his lackey-" But that's the end of her speech. The muffled giggles and bouncing in the throne opposite from Elanora stops as soon as she utters the word lackey, and a bloodied hand comes to smack her right in her pretty mouth, smear red, hot blood over the golden lipstick in a rise that ruin the perfect makeup of her and marrs the equally perfect, plush folds of her petite features. "Treat our guest with respect!" The silver-haired fae now interjects, a singsong, giggling voice before she sits back down, and so does the demonborn, back on the lap of her partner. A gesture made to the air commands, and the soldiers stretching across the room obey. One of the grabs a man off the floor, shackled and shivering with how few clothes it has. A simple trousers, nothing else, forced to bend down on all fours next to Elanora's chair for her comfort while he sobs. Perhaps a little more aware of the true nature of where they are, compared to all other slaves that are for the pleasure of this meeting of predators.
The whimpering of the man dragged infront of her doesn't seem to phase Elanora at all. Her booted feet are swung up onto the back of the slave with two loud thuds. Crossed at the ankles she lounges back in her throne. It seemed the demonborn getting beaten doesn't even draw her gaze as she studies her talons again as if bored. The sunglasses hide what direction she's clearly looking of course but her head is tilted down towards her nails and she seems to be checking them one by one by curling each digit upwards. "Thanks." She says a few moments later in response to the statement about respecting their guest. Her head lifts for a moment but she doesn't make the mistake of looking over her sunglasses. "Your hospitality is appreciated. Mikhael isn't here no. But I am his girlfriend. If anything I think it's more important to impress me than Mikhael... Women run the world in secret... Don't you agree?" She smiles over at the gold tuned silver haired girl and shows off a fang as she does.
Konstantin is busy in a clothing shop, alone, looking at slightly costumish looking white dresses as his phone buzzes to life. A quick exchange of words followed by a text message with further information and perhaps instructions, and he snaps into action, discarding what he has picked out to by so far behind a nearby clothing rack in the hopes it'll be there when he returns before going for the door at some speed. He makes his way on foot, having still not secured a vehicle, but thankfully Haven is a fairly small place and he finds his way to the prescribed address. He finds an alleyway outside the building, giving it a surreptitious once over before slipping into the shadows and preparing himself. A balaclava, taken from his pocket and checked over, as well as a couple of sets of improvised zip-cuffs and a revolver (checked meticulously ahead of the action). He has to have his TOOLS! A quick message fired off lets Elanora know that he is outside and ready, should a distraction or otherwise be required.
Upon her arrival at the decrepit building, the sound of an otherworldly rave fills the air, a facade for the monstrous gathering that lurks beneath. Elanora navigates through a crowd intoxicated by darkness, her senses tingling with the unmistakable presence of supernatural entities engaging in a twisted spectacle of power and hedonism. Her determination leads her further into the abyss, where she descends into a hidden chamber, a sanctum for the creatures of the night and The Golden Shadow's elite. There, surrounded by beings who embody the essence of danger, she boldly claims her place, invoking Mikhael's name and demanding respect and attention amidst a room where the lines between predator and prey blur. Her audacity and calm demeanor in face of the menacing audience before her mark a pivotal moment in the night, asserting her not just as a mere envoy but as a formidable presence in her own right. Yet, outside the confines of this den of monsters, Mikhael prepares for any eventuality, ready to intervene should the need arise, highlighting a silent camaraderie and preparedness that belies the night's chaotic veneer.
(Elanora's odd encounter(SRMikhael):SRMikhael)
[Fri May 31 2024]
In a Spacious, Suave Living Space with View of the Bay
This formal living room is spacious, a blend of modern luxury and historic tranquility. Dark wallpaper with swirling silver patterns adorns the walls, adding a touch of sophistication to the space, creating an illusion of expansiveness, serving as a central point in the penthouse, seamlessly connecting the hallways and foyer. Strategically placed indoor plants breathe life into the space, harmonizing with the abstract, refined decor.
Black, hard marble floors stretch elegantly throughout the apartment, lending an airy feel to the residence. The high ceiling, painted in a shadowy darkness, is adorned with clouded figures and warped shades blending seamlessly in a foreboding visual illuminated by a minimalist chandelier with cascading glass orbs that bathe the room in soft, ambient glow.
A glass balcony nestled between broad windows offers a scenic view towards the east, showcasing Haven's Bay framed by hazy blurs of old-growth forest. In the distance, the tempestuous Atlantic Ocean captivates with its restless waves, shifting from stony depths in colder seasons to coastal blues in warmer ones. Despite the open floor plan, the space exudes a sense of elevation, with steps on either side of the connecting hallway adding to its grandeur.
It is night, about 71F(21C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(In this encounter, the target stumbles upon a secret meeting of The Golden Shadow. Among gathered in the dimly lit room is a political figure from Haven, revealing their involvement with this ruthless mercenary group. The target must decide whether to confront them, gather more information, or escape unnoticed. The decisions made in this encounter could lead to a complicated web of political intrigue, betrayal, and danger as they delve deeper into the corruption of Haven.)
Deep in the darkness of the night, the town of Haven descent into its elusive, silent depths, the living area that Elanora is within is bask in the quiet of it. The dimly lit surroundings are illuminated so scarcely that the house plants that are just a tad too large than they should be create an imposing backdrop, stretching like tendrils to the ceiling of the penthouse, while the many gloom and doom portraits around the house cast a decrepit aura, a foreboding pressure across the hall they're placed in. The crown jewel of the foyer stands like a wraith, the limbless statue on the pedestal with its wicked horns and black-blood accents etched into agony seem all the more alive from far, in perpetual suffering.
The only saving grace is the waning crescent of the moon nearly at its zenith in the witching hours now, casting its glow down from the heavens into the expanse of the living room. It's light dances across the marble floors, their silver streaks, reflected in mirror-sheen to a myriad of hues that seem as if the floor is alit underneath Elanora. Though shut, the massive windows spanning the room give insight to all that maay transpire in the town. Some music in the distance, lights cast to the sky of another nightclub yet active in these hours and populated, to a few of the lavish dining locations still open for business. Alive 24/7, keeping up a strange schedule like every member of the town that they cater to.
Though, from the next building over, something different might catch the eye if one were to look. The complex towering over is easily visible, the windows similarly paned wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling baring the sight to a fancy gathering of sorts, it appears. If only one were to take closer look it would be much too easy to see the dangerous notion of their amassed populace, a circle surrounded by a plethora of robed figures, with what seems to be a young woman that is bound tightly, likely in the midst of a ritualistic sacrifice. Just two floors below, past the darkness of the one between the two, a bunch of mobster looking individuals seem to be finalizing a trade. The exquisitely decorated kitchen, visible just by being perpendicular to the building which Elanora is in, in another room, bares the sight of weaponry in crates and caskets stuffed with hay, two individuals between them shaking hands. All the norms of such a night, stretching ever on in a plethora of wicked acts that fuel the worst of the worst in Have.
Yet, the most striking thing isn't what happens outside. It is what happens there, in the living room. Something intriguing, if Elanora were to at all cast her attention that way. A black phone that is definitely not hers, maybe a burner, given to the other owner of the penthouse for a singular purpose, perhaps. It's alit now, buzzing with a single message from a blocked phone that doesn't accept return text or calls. The black screen is illuminated only by aa golden dagger plunged through a shadowy globe, and a text reads next to it plainly. "Cordially invited. Do not deny us again, we can earn plenty in partnership. Gathering is soon." The block continues, an address somewhere in Devilwood Drive, just out near the forest, much more vibrant than the text above, in its own little bubble of a secondary text.
Just as soon as the buzzing of the phone ends, the overbearing silence returns. Basks the room in it, almost in belated breath of a decision to be made by none other than Elanora. Does she let her curiosity win, does she meddle in affairs she probably shouldn't, or does she leave the phone to its own, ignore it just as its rightful owner does, sleeping in the other room? The question thickens the air, shadows over Elanora, almost as if to see whatever will she do...
Elanora yawns slightly as she lounges on the sofa rubbing absently at her wrists. She was in a bad mood which is why she wasn't in the bedroom sleeping at that moment. She was in too much of a bad mood to sleep and her wrists were too sore from the spar that had occured not so long ago, leaving a scattering of bruises on her wrists. Her topaz eyes gaze absently out absently in the living room and she gets up from the sofa to walk over to the door to the balcony outside. The sweet summer air blows in from an open slit and she walks out to enjoy the night air for a moment as well as the ocean smell from the bay wafting in on the breeze. Her eyes catch the transcation taking place across the way, her eyebrows lifting at the sight of the bound sacrifice. Maybe they were having an orgy. So kinky. So haven. She shakes her head, not particularly interested into getting herself into trouble and she was coming back into the living room when the buzzing catches her attention. Her head tilts her ears trying to find the focus of the buzzing and she soon homes in on the burner phone set on the bottom rack of the large coffee table. Picking it up, she squints at it and the message sprawling across it and then sighs as it appears. Setting down the phone, she commits the location to memory and walks off towards the bedroom.
The door to the bedroom swings open without a single noise or squeak, well kept in that pent house apartment and she ducks her head in, peering in consideration at the man was sleeping on the bed. He had seemed so exhausted when he had gone to sleep only not so long ago. She sighs as she pads over silently to the side of the bed, stealing his car keys from the bedside table before giving the man a soft kiss on the forehead. That done, she sneaks back out of the room, closing the door behind her as she twirls the keys around her finger. It was the small hours of the night. Surely there would be no one there to care about her driving on the wrong side of the road right??? Riightttt? She thought to herself as she pulled on her boots at the door and slowly made her way out of the apartment, locking the steel door firmly behind her.
Not a peep, not a sound. Elanora steals the keys perfectly from the beside, and leaves for the door easily. There isn't even the hint of a snore at her back, as someone is asleep like a corpse. The steel door's well-oiled hinges grind shut silently, and she leaves that penthouse for the cold of the night outside. A different kind of silence. More lively, more alive, like static perpetually in someone's ears while she makes her way for the elevator. It opens before she even gets to it, inviting a descent to hell or a way to salvation, whichever it may be. The ride down is smooth, silent, undisturbed. It sounds like nearly everyone is asleep within the confines of the building - save for a few she passes when she leaves the elevator.
On her way through to the exit where the car she stole presumably is, some of the doors give the telltale sign of living, breathing people behind them. Moans from one, laughters from another, screams from elsewhere. It is all very Haven, no matter whichever way she turns and looks. Either someone is in the midst of a party, sex, or some violent act - or all together in a warped mix of decadence. So very Haven. The steel backdoor of the apartments open up at her behest, the air is crisp, slightly chilly in the dead of the night, and ominous at these particular hours. It all awaits her, whatever she may want to do - the world out there is her oyster, with the pressing matter of that odd bit of text looming above her like the sword of Damocles, not a clue as to what it may have been about, yet.
Elanora smiles as she walks through the corridor of the apartments, listening to the noises behind the closed doors as with her astute hearing. Given she knew pretty much everyone who lived in that corridor that led into the alley, it's extra interesting for her as she stops here and there to listen. It seems to improve her mood, her finger swinging the keys round and round before she pushes open the door to the alley. She takes a big breath of the crisp night air, sighing softly at the hint of the ocean on the night breeze as she makes her way slowly over to the porche. She mashes the buttons on the remote until it unlocks silently, the golden lights inside the cabin turning on and opens the door for herself, sliding into the drivers seat that was on the wrong side of the vehicle. "Urg America..." She says in disgust as she looks around at the console of the porche. Keyless entry of course ... She presses the start button as she tucks the keys into her bra. No pockets in a woman's wear of course. She sighs again as she slowly pulls out of the alley - almost getting swiped by a car driving along Paine as she comes out of the alley. "Ooops..." She says as she swurves across the road while trying to input the address into the GPS of the car. "Navigate! Navigate!" She yells at the stupid voice assist program.
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That Porsche, beast of a machine, is still a machine. The vehicle beeps before the near-miss would've been a sure impact, tires locked with smart breaks to prevent collusion, and as soon as the danger is gone, so is Elanora. Out of the alleyway, it takes a few tries before the in-built GPS picks up her command to get on with it, and the town of Haven is laid out in a three dimensional map that almost seems holographic with some intricate design work that has the panel built within the console.. And there she is. The Porshe in the middle of the road, with a golden streak cutting through the Haven roads, different coloration for where the traffic might be clogged, but at this hour, the roads are sparce, people are asleep, and what few are out there, are up to no good.
She takes off on the completely opposite side of the road without a single care for the traffic - and it is her luck, nothing more that she doesn't encounter a drunk driver while the GPS leads her through entirely the wrong alleyways and makes her circle several loops around Temple Street before she can hope to make it to her destination. Was there a time period for the gathering she read of? If only she opened it, even if it meant being found out later that she did. The GPS nonetheless does its job dutifully, takes Elanora all the way through the Devilwood with only minor swerving once she's on track. The scattered houses and buildings leave their place to thick plots of untamed forest, going on and on into darkness. Until the headlights turn on automatically, since she didn't turn them on when she begun driving, and they illuminate only one decrepit building. More of a two-story shack, half rotting, roof full of holes. Some light spills out of it, streaks of gold and white and often a myriad rainbow display like a rave takes place inside. Something the unruly college kids cooked up, perhaps, but it is surely out of any deputies sight. Only thing that cements these possible observations is the din of a faint electronic music that vibrates through the soundproof windows, heard only, barely audibly.
Elanora drives along the roads, occasionally remembering to drive on the correct side of the road and loving the small alleys where a car is forced to drive in the middle - that was the easiest of course. It takes her 3 loops of temple street to tilt her head to the side going, "What the fuck... I feel like I've driven here before..." Still, she's helpless with the GPS and is bullied by it to go around and around until it feels beeps to let her know she's at the right location. She manages to remember to put the car into park- thankfully the handbreak is automatically applied by the smart car. She sits still in the dark car for a moment, waiting, listening before recalling the address and double checking on her phone. "Yup this is definately the place..." She says to herself, glancing over at the building where the faint electronic music is pulsing from. She gets out of the car, closing the door as silently as she can behind her before slowly walking over to the building. Her finger comes up to tug on her lower lip as she considers the invitiation again before sighing and making her way in.
Every step Elanora takes when she's out of the car increases the tension in her chest, or maybe its just the pressure of the car keys that press against her there. The sound of music increases at a constant. Electro for sure, from a non-brand, indie disc jockey that is likely another college student that's trying to rebel against society by playing nothing mainstream or she's heard of before. No one even registers her intrusion uninvited, its a rave, and the opening of the doors only gets mist to waft out past her legs, slip into the air like a wicked wraith as laughter, screams, and everything mingles with the thundering booms of the sound system that shakes her to her bones. Quite a few inebriated people are present, some vomiting out on a corner, some making out, some more. Limbs are thrown to the air en masse in a cacaphony of screams and dancing, everyone grinding up on one another in fervent vigor and drug-addled ardor that tells she arrived at the zenith of their fun. There must be at least half a hundred people crammed into this very area alone, and the crowd, alongside the colorful decorations strewn about left and right glittering in the smoke makes it hard to tell that they're currently squatting for a party in a run-down building near the forests of the town.
However, Elanora has keen eyes and keener ears. In the crowd, there are far more than it would seem. If she were to look just a little too closely, past the veil of normalcy, she'd notice the two jock-dudes armwrestling near the wall on a table they've usurped are snarling at one another in their competition. Another couple heatedly making out is more than it seems - the woman pushed againt the wall isn't even aware of the fangs that are about to score into her neck in their tangle of limbs. A girl is carried on the shoulders of a big, muscular dude, and the way she screams with the music captivates far more attention from her entourage than the music or the party ever does - they almost seem to be drooling to fawn over her. Beyond all of them, there are wanderers. Definitely not the college crowd sort, with earpieces subtly utilized, spoken into, their weapons, albeit expertly hidden, are still strapped and jutting out to the discerning eye under their clothes. The undertones of the scent of fear is thick in the air. Not from them, not from the supernaturals enjoying themselves - which there seems to be quite a lot of. Maybe even the mundane sort that are in here aren't aware of exactly what transpires - yet something deep inside of them knows they have no business being here. Elanora, far from a creature of the normal world herself, should be to feel this just as easily. In every breath, the emotions that swirl in the air flood her senses with strength. These are prime feeding grounds, but for whom, it isn't clear.
Elanora pauses as the doors open for her to spill out the rave infront of her. Topaz eyes sweep over everyone and everything, taking note of things as she walks forward a few steps so that the door can swing back closed behind her. Her dress and boots are not out of place at all during the rave and her body immediately takes on the sway of the music, her hips sashaying slightly as she makes her way through the crowd. She's an expert at diverting wondering hands, dodging them with giggles and smiles while soothing hurt egos with a pat on the shoulder. Still, she listens to everything, takes in everything as she makes her way slowly through the crowd.
As Elanora sashays and sways through the crowd, she may as well be in a pack of starving wolves. All around, as a rave begets, people want contact, to touch, to feel. For every hand she dodges, she encounters another two, and for every kiss she ducks away from, she has to endure a bump here and a bump there. It's overbearing, far too many drunk and drugged people in one room, with far too much music that clouds every ounce of judgement. She nearly stumbles into two college girls that are vehemently making out right in the middle of everyone - and before she can sway past them, they pull her in to the embrace. They don't show her the same courtesy, but the way their grip is subtly far, far greater than both of their petite statures conveys something not at all normal in them. She may catch just the hint of a pair of red eyes in the sway while she's hugged, squeezes between veritable mountains, squished and adored in a plethora of affectionate compliments and maybe a few too many interested pinches at her hips before her captors release her.
She doesn't hear much, truly, in the thunderdome of the rave. The lights, the smoke, the wafting mist all across underfoor. The latter is likely a boon, just as her high heels are that keep her elevated several inches off of the ground - because if the steps she takes and how soft or how squishy, as well as how glass-like some of the things she steps on are any indication, a drop to the floor would likely end anyone in the ER with several shots for rabies for good measure, just to be safe. Yet, deep in enemy territory, she chances upon exactly the sort of people that would've sent that text. A young looking pair, militaristic even in their pose. The man leans down to whisper something to the woman after checking his watch, and the woman confirms something by touching her earpiece. "Orders to round up the rest." The hushed whisper is barely caught, "Leave the flock to have fun," Another whisper, "Reconvene in ten, downstairs."
Though more is said, it is impossible to hear. Who knows where downstair is - and it seems like it may be an ordeal to chase those two through this crowd, or maybe a bit too overt. All around the party there is movement that is distinctively different than the regulars having their ectastic moment with ecstasy - its the same sort of people. Militaristic, gruff, or too well dressed for a rave. The pair of snarling competitors in the far wall are gone, trailing away - so is the leech that was about to drain someone dry. If Elanora were to take a look over her shoulder then, she's that the girl is already hyperventilating, pale as bone, lumped against the wall and bleeding from several bites all across. No one spares her another look, or even a secondary glance. The petite girls that took Elanora hostage are out of sight, just like that too - as if they were never even there in the first place, leaving the party with a notable absence of predators.
Save for the obviously faen girl that's still riding a buff dude's shoulders, she's having the time of her life being fawned by a semi-circle of simps that cater to her every desire while she's paraded around like a prom queen. Her top goes flying, for a moment or two, and the music blares louder for it, so does the crowd.
Elanora is an expert at dodging people but apparently not as expert as she thought as she was dragged into the cuddles of those two other girls. Her eyes roll skyward as she puts up with it for a few moments, enduring the rubs on her bottom and using her hands to dodge sloppy kisses until her bad mood overtakes her and instead she starts catching eyes. "Kiss the other woman there until you both come. Don't stop until then." She snarls at the girl before stalking off. Luminious yellow that looks like molten metal flashes as she sways her way over to the two discussing going downstairs and she dances around in a slow circle, spinning at her hips as she looks around to note the lack of all the other predators in the room. Well... she was a predator too and so she stalks her way where the two disappeared, making her way through the crowd towards the wall in that direction so that she can find her way downstairs to whereever it may lead.
She disappears amongst the crowd. The two that she had tried to put under hypnosis, who had only laughed at her in a cackle like a pair of banshees and adored her all the more for it, are already long gone. She may see the both of them arm in arm, tagging after the other pair of snarling wrestlers. Behind them, the leech licks his lips. The entourage of what are evidently guards follow along after the whole of them, and it is not a difficult task at all for Elanora to navigate her way past the treshold leading to the other rooms. She's not particularly sneaky, but she doesn't have to be in a place like this, anyway, where everyone is absorbed with one another.
As soon as she's past the sanctity of the mist-wraithed entry, tagging a fair distance behind the veritable group, it is as if there was no party at all at her back. Silence reign supreme here, and there are only the scarce lights of the rave illuminating the way, the smoke that wafts knee-high all around scatters it all around and all across. The walls are bug-eaten, the furniture is moth-eaten, everything around here seems to be nibbled on by one thing or another, broken walls almost man-size lay insight to the plumbing going through it with rats that crawl around en masse. The disgusting feeling of stepping on condoms and used drug syringes is absent here. There is only the soft woood beneath her heels, too sodden to clank or make noise- and her position allows her to see perfectly how the gaggle of predators follow the guards down to a corner.
They open a latch within the smoke underfoot, and its as if the air is sucked into it, mist trails down the depths of what must be a metal ladder as a slow descent begins on their part. Their arguments never cease. Nothing of substantial value, nothing of interest. The two demonborns tease the jocky werewolves, the vampire keeps a brooding distance, the vampires try to hit on their aggressors. All in good fun - all very Haven, while the guards, ever stoic, follow after them. In this dimmed area, it is easier to see that each and every one of them wear an insignia, a brooch, a belt buckle, watch or ring that in one way or another carries the mark of a golden dagger plunged through a shadow globe. They leave the latch open, as if she's invited to follow.
She disappears amongst the crowd. The two that she had tried to put under hypnosis, who had only laughed at her in a cackle like a pair of banshees and adored her all the more for it, are already long gone. She may see the both of them arm in arm, tagging after the other pair of snarling wrestlers. Behind them, the leech licks his lips. The entourage of what are evidently guards follow along after the whole of them, and it is not a difficult task at all for Elanora to navigate her way past the treshold leading to the other rooms. She's not particularly sneaky, but she doesn't have to be in a place like this, anyway, where everyone is absorbed with one another.
As soon as she's past the sanctity of the mist-wraithed entry, tagging a fair distance behind the veritable group, it is as if there was no party at all at her back. Silence reign supreme here, and there are only the scarce lights of the rave illuminating the way, the smoke that wafts knee-high all around scatters it all around and all across. The walls are bug-eaten, the furniture is moth-eaten, everything around here seems to be nibbled on by one thing or another, broken walls almost man-size lay insight to the plumbing going through it with rats that crawl around en masse. The disgusting feeling of stepping on condoms and used drug syringes is absent here. There is only the soft woood beneath her heels, too sodden to clank or make noise- and her position allows her to see perfectly how the gaggle of predators follow the guards down to a corner.
They open a latch within the smoke underfoot, and its as if the air is sucked into it, mist trails down the depths of what must be a metal ladder as a slow descent begins on their part. Their arguments never cease. Nothing of substantial value, nothing of interest. The two demonborns tease the jocky werewolves, the vampire keeps a brooding distance, the vampires try to hit on their aggressors. All in good fun - all very Haven, while the guards, ever stoic, follow after them. In this dimmed area, it is easier to see that each and every one of them wear an insignia, a brooch, a belt buckle, watch or ring that in one way or another carries the mark of a golden dagger plunged through a shadow globe. They leave the latch open, as if she's invited to follow.
Elanora's nostrils flare slightly as she follows the group, a hand reaches down to her dress where her sunglasses are set and pulls them over her eyes. The inside of the lenses were tinted yellow, the outside mirror. Mayhaps she was thrown off a bit at the fact that her hypnosis didn't work and wasn't taking second chances but the yellow tint doesn't seem to her affect her keen night vision at all as she slowly follows along the with the group. Her talons tap against her thighs but she holds her head high. Pretending to be a victim in a time like this would surely signal death. She would have to channel as much of the predator within her as possible. Her topaz eyes, covered by the sunglasses frown slightly at the latch but she approaches, putting a hand on the guardrail and setting her heels down onto the rung in disgust. Climbing ladders in heels. Urg. She slowly starts to make her way down, not trying to be subtle because again... Heels on metal stairs.
Click, clack, clang.
Elanora descends after the others do, not at all subtle, but her luck would have it, whatever drowns out all the sound here do the same. The fog devours every bit of her heels, as she descends in that mist down to what appears to be something of a tunnel. Brick walls, old world, tinted red and cascading all around. Age old burst piping drips water from within the ceiling, and there is a shallow channel separating two different walkways. It must've been a sewer entrance or something similar, because it smells like it too. Rust, mold and stale water. There gaggle of predators are way ahead of her, already turned to a corner, out of sight and their sounds slowly drowned away with each step that they take.
Not to be outdone, Elanora's chase of them is nothing short of valiant. Not everyone would follow a group of misfists such as this like her, not while there is still the looming threat of others following behind. Stuck between likely failure to retreat and her doom possibly ahead, she descends further and further. Upon bounding around the corner, she may just keenly enough catch the sight of the group disappear behind a massive door that is obviously built much, much later, the tunnel that hosts it possibly at least half a century or more older than it. It shuts behind them, but no sound of a latch or lock echoes - at the very least, for now, it is unlocked, and that gathering of monsters brews behind closed doors, now.
Elanora follows along the group, studying them while subtly her hand sends a text back home to the sleeping person whose phone she followed. Just a message to let him know where she went and the address just incase things got too shady. Her head turns glancing behind her but it's too late for regret. Too late to turn around given the others that would likely follow her. She exhales softly as she studies the massive door and then walks up to it, resting her hands on the massive handle. There was no room for stealth here. She'd just have to pretend she was invited. Since she was after all. Taking another break, she affixes the most bored and disapproving look on her face before pull the door open.
Maybe that was the most dangerous way to go about this. Surely the most straightforward method brought about the most reward, however. Her phone blares for a moment even as Elanora opens the door, and steps inside through the gilded entry that beckoned her in with each step of the way - not with promises of grandeur, though that was possibly a given, but if only to simply get out of the acrid smell that overtakes the long stretch of tunnels she endured that appears to go along whichever way, every way, on and on. Likely an interconnected system of sewers from the olden days that are forgotten beneath the claim of forestry. In fact, off in the distance, it is not difficult for her to see the crawling moss and wine and the tree roots that have splintered through the stone, likely outside. A beam of moonlight even casts inward, illuminating a single spot. If not for the smell, the whole place didn't lack for a gothic, picturesque charm.
As for the group that disappeared, they are exactly there, past the door. Elanora had just opened herself into a massive, circular room. Descending starcase on the pedestal of a platform she stood upon fills the expanse with lavish wealth and a muted din of comfort. Red carpets with golden tassles, plush pillows occupied by scantily clad men and women, littered in bite marks or otherwise a glazed, used look. Slaves. Dominating the center several dozen feet below her, a massive centerpiece circular table is host to everyone she saw and more. Monters each and every one of them.
The two pair of demonborns she was practically assaulted by sit on a single grand chair, one on the lap of the other, seemingly in the process of making out because plush lips with golden lipstick on their lips are messy and mingled into one. Their eyes, red and thick as blood both turn upon Elanora immediately. The werewolves, seated side to side, snarling forward in distaste and disterest as if they had to endure the filthy stench of the vampire sitting opposite from them digging into another woman on his lap turn as well. Perhaps the only reason she fled their nose was their distraction, the young man all dark and brooding, cradling a bleeding woman and showing affection in the form of kisses. Each of them stealing mouthfuls of flesh. He too turns upon Elanora. Silvery eyes full of vigor this deep in the night, stark in contrast to the yellow glare of the werewolves that are now dead silent. In fact, everyone is. All eyes are up upon Elanora, watching with belated breath as the several guards pull their weapons immediately from their side holsters, situated around, in militaristic garb. Mercenaries no doubt, all aiming at the door, now, though not yet taking a shot.
Maybe that was the most dangerous way to go about this. Surely the most straightforward method brought about the most reward, however. Her phone blares for a moment even as Elanora opens the door, and steps inside through the gilded entry that beckoned her in with each step of the way - not with promises of grandeur, though that was possibly a given, but if only to simply get out of the acrid smell that overtakes the long stretch of tunnels she endured that appears to go along whichever way, every way, on and on. Likely an interconnected system of sewers from the olden days that are forgotten beneath the claim of forestry. In fact, off in the distance, it is not difficult for her to see the crawling moss and wine and the tree roots that have splintered through the stone, likely outside. A beam of moonlight even casts inward, illuminating a single spot. If not for the smell, the whole place didn't lack for a gothic, picturesque charm.
As for the group that disappeared, they are exactly there, past the door. Elanora had just opened herself into a massive, circular room. Descending starcase on the pedestal of a platform she stood upon fills the expanse with lavish wealth and a muted din of comfort. Red carpets with golden tassles, plush pillows occupied by scantily clad men and women, littered in bite marks or otherwise a glazed, used look. Slaves. Dominating the center several dozen feet below her, a massive centerpiece circular table is host to everyone she saw and more. Monters each and every one of them.
The two pair of demonborns she was practically assaulted by sit on a single grand chair, one on the lap of the other, seemingly in the process of making out because plush lips with golden lipstick on their lips are messy and mingled into one. Their eyes, red and thick as blood both turn upon Elanora immediately. The werewolves, seated side to side, snarling forward in distaste and disterest as if they had to endure the filthy stench of the vampire sitting opposite from them digging into another woman on his lap turn as well. Perhaps the only reason she fled their nose was their distraction, the young man all dark and brooding, cradling a bleeding woman and showing affection in the form of kisses. Each of them stealing mouthfuls of flesh. He too turns upon Elanora. Silvery eyes full of vigor this deep in the night, stark in contrast to the yellow glare of the werewolves that are now dead silent. In fact, everyone is. All eyes are up upon Elanora, watching with belated breath as the several guards pull their weapons immediately from their side holsters, situated around, in militaristic garb. Mercenaries no doubt, all aiming at the door, now, though not yet taking a shot. (repost)
Tap tap tap. At least the sound of her heels is apparently as she lets the door swing silently closed behind her without any effort on her part. Her talons simply letting go of the handle. Her hips swing as she walks forward, seeming to ignore all the weapons pointed on her as she take a few more steps forward as if to gather everyone's attention. Not that their attention wasn't on her already. "Hello." She says in a voice that doesn't betray any hint of her being impressed or not at the decoration in this room that... lets go honest wasn't all that different to what was going on upstairs. "I was cordially invited." She says in a bored voice, looking down to study her talon like nails as if making sure that opening the door had not damaged them. "Mikhael couldn't make it himself. He's looking forward to my.... report though." The corner of her lips twitch slightly as she continues, uncaring of the weapons focused on her. Elanora stops infront of the first reasonably grand looking chair she comes upon, gazing upon the occupant with boredom and simply arches an eyebrow as if expecting them to move for her.
Tension takes over the room immediately. Confused glances pass between each guard, and weapons are lowered by many of them before slowly the rest follow suit like sheep to a flock. At Elanora's claim of coming on someone elses behalf, a few of the older looking ones grow stiff. Not particularly at her, but by the name alone, and several of them make scarce immediately. Whispering something among one another that is unintelligible. It isn't a regrouping, they're visibly fleeing to the dismay and distaste of the others that dominate the seats. The nearest of the bunch that Elanora approaches happens to be the dear vampire, who gives her a glazed look. Drunk off of the girl on her lap, and purring in delight without a hint of their earlier brooding as they size Elanora up - and promptly discard the woman on their lap to make space. "If you want to sit, I have a vacant spot right here," Their voice is almost singsong - yet whatever they intended to say is interrupted promptly by the duo of demonborn girls. They both slam their hands upon the table at once, cause cracks within the age old wood that groans, but it is nothing compared to their ire. They clearly know who Elanora spoke of, and in those red eyes there is only what appears to be fear. Maybe one of them even regrets touching Elanora now, earlier - who she might suspect might be the one that gave her the bruising pinch at her hip, now because she looks all flushed and sunken in her seat to let the other speak. "Take a seat," The dominant one commands immediately of Elanora, nods towards the reserved seat, one of the two larger thrones - not at the vacant smaller ones that they occupy.
It returns the brooding nature of the vampire who chicks his tongue, and the werewolves, who look more like frat boys, may as well be salivating at Elanora now that they realize she is not exactly an uninvited guest. Yet they're too busy shoving one another in their side-to-side seats to bother much with her at the moment. "Proof." One of the girls demand, not the one sulking. They ask for a form of identification, it seems - but it is exactly then that the doors above slam open once more. It is none other than the obviously fae-blooded chick that enters in an elevated eruption of mirth and amusement, skip to her step and bouncing forward even as she pulls down her top to cover her modesty. She is still living her best life, "Sorryyy," Her words hang on in a not so apologetic tone.
Her hands are stained in blood down to her elbows, and a lot more of it drips around her midriff, makes that flimsy white tank-top on her almost see through with blood. "I'm late, I hope you didn't wait for me long." Plush lips pout, and she draws herself up over the front rails of the elevated entry. The stairs aren't used, she makes to leap down - and disappears in a mist-clad eruption of pink, only for a small hummingbird to spin through the air, cut across and erupt in another cloud right at the other dominating throne, where the woman appears half-draped, legs hanging off one end, body on the other in a caricature of a pose as her bright, yellow as the sun locks trail to the floor in her dramatics. Another curl in, and she languidly stretches to sit properly, dominate her seat with an aura of airiness that are absent in wide, bright eyes full of blue. "What did I misss?"
Elanora stalks towards her seat and has barely sat down when the other woman covered in blood appears. She yawns, showing off her fangs in a way that shows she isn't impressed with the show. In a room full of predators that can hear ones heart beat, hers is steadily slow, barely above 60 as the pulse at her throat beats leisurely. No one had seen the arcane light that glowed around her ring after the doors had closed but she had slowned down her own heart, made it beat slow and steady with her own magic. All the better to pull of the act infront of a room who would easily sense one's fears. Her actings skills - another performance art she had mastered throughout the years along with singing and dancing allows her to put on her bored expression as her talons rap against the armrest of the small throne she now sat at. Her legs are presses together, set to the side, as regal as the other woman who just asked what she missed. "The proof is I'm here. And Mikhael will be very very angry if I don't get back to him within the hour." She smiles pleasantly, "I'm just here to watch and be impressed please... Go ahead." She gestures generously before lounging backwards. "Although... A nice little slave for a footstool would be nice." She gestures down towards her feet.
The fae-blood practically cackles where she is, kicking her legs back and forth under her desk on the opposite side of the table in glee with her arms brought under her chin. It's smooth transition how she leans her elbows forward and hosts her head within bloodied hands that still drip the fresh warm liquid. They're likely belonging to her own entourage from upstairs, the ducklings that were catering to her every whim. Bereft of it, the vampire scoffs, looks away and those silver eyes are elsewhere now, on one of the other slaves as if they command more of his interest while he licks his fangs. The total leather, emo attire he's clad in glistens in wet black, likely blood, under the dim light - and he coaxes yet another meal to his lap. A man this time, waifish, feminine, who obediently climbs to straddle his lap to rest his neck in the leech's black taloned hands. Opposite, the werewolves are like beaten dogs, trying to keep a facade of militaristic now at the sight of golden-haired woman that just entered the room to command her own seat - who, by the way, now runs through bloodied hands through her own hair, and each stroke leaves them not gold but a silvery sheen cascading down. The tail end of the motion leaves one stray lock to be curled around her index.
The demonborn girls, the meaker of the two, at least, interject, now. "You're not him.." She speaks quietly, only to earn a glare from her companion, who is now standing now instead of occupying someone's lap. Whatever their relationship is, it seems the sub and the dom change at a whim. Red eyes are upon Elanora once again, "He couldn't even come here himself, then what was the fucking point? We're not going to entertain his lackey-" But that's the end of her speech. The muffled giggles and bouncing in the throne opposite from Elanora stops as soon as she utters the word lackey, and a bloodied hand comes to smack her right in her pretty mouth, smear red, hot blood over the golden lipstick in a rise that ruin the perfect makeup of her and marrs the equally perfect, plush folds of her petite features. "Treat our guest with respect!" The silver-haired fae now interjects, a singsong, giggling voice before she sits back down, and so does the demonborn, back on the lap of her partner. A gesture made to the air commands, and the soldiers stretching across the room obey. One of the grabs a man off the floor, shackled and shivering with how few clothes it has. A simple trousers, nothing else, forced to bend down on all fours next to Elanora's chair for her comfort while he sobs. Perhaps a little more aware of the true nature of where they are, compared to all other slaves that are for the pleasure of this meeting of predators.
The whimpering of the man dragged infront of her doesn't seem to phase Elanora at all. Her booted feet are swung up onto the back of the slave with two loud thuds. Crossed at the ankles she lounges back in her throne. It seemed the demonborn getting beaten doesn't even draw her gaze as she studies her talons again as if bored. The sunglasses hide what direction she's clearly looking of course but her head is tilted down towards her nails and she seems to be checking them one by one by curling each digit upwards. "Thanks." She says a few moments later in response to the statement about respecting their guest. Her head lifts for a moment but she doesn't make the mistake of looking over her sunglasses. "Your hospitality is appreciated. Mikhael isn't here no. But I am his girlfriend. If anything I think it's more important to impress me than Mikhael... Women run the world in secret... Don't you agree?" She smiles over at the gold tuned silver haired girl and shows off a fang as she does.
Konstantin is busy in a clothing shop, alone, looking at slightly costumish looking white dresses as his phone buzzes to life. A quick exchange of words followed by a text message with further information and perhaps instructions, and he snaps into action, discarding what he has picked out to by so far behind a nearby clothing rack in the hopes it'll be there when he returns before going for the door at some speed. He makes his way on foot, having still not secured a vehicle, but thankfully Haven is a fairly small place and he finds his way to the prescribed address. He finds an alleyway outside the building, giving it a surreptitious once over before slipping into the shadows and preparing himself. A balaclava, taken from his pocket and checked over, as well as a couple of sets of improvised zip-cuffs and a revolver (checked meticulously ahead of the action). He has to have his TOOLS! A quick message fired off lets Elanora know that he is outside and ready, should a distraction or otherwise be required.