Re: Modern Mythology [RP]
Somewhere in New York, USA
From the edges of his consciousness, Tiel heard noise. A muffled, barely audible noise, but a noise all the same. Instantly, survival instinct kicked in. As they snapped open, his bright yellow eyes were filled with alarm. Weakly, he tried to stand, to flee, to fly, but as quickly as he got up, he collapsed back to the ground. His breaths heavily and raspy, he tried to calm himself, and make sense of the situation.
Immediately the pain in his wings returned, stronger than ever. He blinked his eyes more than a few times, trying to focus. All around him were branches, and through the branches a shape loomed overhead. There was another round of blinking as he weakly tried to focus. The shape held some sort of light, which made his yellow eyes water profusely. But behind the light he could make out… a human face. He almost cried out in surprise, but all that came out was a small croak. His insane plan had actually worked!
Tiel started to speak, slowly and haltingly the noise sounding so raspy it almost couldn’t be recognized as speech. His eyes still blinked as he tried to focus more on the face behind the light. “Tiel… need help. Wings bad state. You. You help Tiel?”
With one last rasping croak, he closed his eyes and tried to hold onto whatever he could to stay awake. The only thing he could focus on was his pain, so he did. His left wing, although hurt, couldn’t compare to the burning sensation in his right wing from his old wound, and so he focused on that burning feeling to stay awake as long as possible. It was either last through this, or suffer through the intense pain of regeneration. He’d take this pain over regeneration any day.
Supernatural Bar, Chicago.
ARPers: Cobalt, Eternal
The other dragon had taken the bait. Rise could barely contain he cruel glee as she took one sip of the drink. As he watched the violent reaction, a grin slowly grew on his face. The cruel light showed in his eyes as the dragon slunk off to some corner of the bar. He made a mental note where they were, he wouldn’t want to lose such a great target, and then the grinning specter just looked around the bar, content to observe.
It seemed there were quite a few new visitors at the bar tonight, and Rise noted this as yet another new pair walked in. They looked… strangely normal. The first was mere boy. Well, Rise supposed humans would categorize him as a “teen”, but to Rise, he was a mere boy. The second drew his interest a little more. At the very least, she wasn’t a kid, or rather not as young of one. He tried to determine anything interesting about her, but his interest quickly waned, and he started to heckle the barkeep once more, glancing to the corner where the dragon was on occasion.
When he spotted Edward, the smirk reappeared on his lips. It grew into a cheeky grin as Edward learned of the lack of human blood and he snigger slightly at the vampire’s misfortune. Almost as quickly as Edward left with his veal blood, another customer ordered blood from the bartender as well, but Rise couldn’t be bothered to notice much more of him than his presence.
Suddenly, there was a loud pop, and merely a moment later, Rise was out of his seat and facing the rest of the bar, his knives at the ready, and a snarl on his face. It took him but a moment to assess the situation. Edward was dead. While sheathing his knives, Rise made a noise of disgust. There was no fun in death; you couldn’t pester someone when they were dead.
Rise felt his foul mood return with a force, and with a snap of his fingers, summoned to fireballs into his hands, ready to throw into the escalating fight. His eyes caught a movement outside of the fight. The two who had entered earlier. The boy was standing next to the girl and with a quick word handed the girl something before he went to join the fray himself, on the killer’s side. With his left hand, he hurled the fireball at the boy, and with his right hand, he lazily tossed his other fireball at the one who was fending off all the vampires, presumably the killer.
After that, his taste for violence was satisfied, and he edged away from the fight, towards the door. He tried to keep track of the girl from earlier and follow her. He was in a foul mood, and most of his playthings were fighting or on the floor bleeding out. Hopefully the girl wouldn’t join the fight, so he’d have something fun to play with.
Last edited by haybalebarn; 04-17-2013 at 03:20 AM.