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I just went for a run... (Lord Dakol and Menarae)

M

Menarae

Planetoid
Joined
Jul 30, 2009
Michaela had never bothered with all those warnings: don't run at night; don't stick to the same route; don't run alone; don't run through deserted areas. She always ran in the evening, always the same route, always alone, always through the wooded part of the park. She carried nothing but her apartment key in her pocket: no iPod, no cell phone, no Mace.

Because she knew she could handle herself. She was little more than average height, with a lean, not muscular, build, not really a threatening-looking girl. But the wolf buried deep inside her lent her unnatural strength, aggression, and energy. If she didn't run twice a day, every day, she would take out that aggression on the first idiot to piss her off, breaking a finger, a nose, an arm.

Her red ponytail bobbed in time with her steps, stray whisps framing her oval-shaped face. Her breath came in short, hard gasps, as she was now about halfway through her run. But she was calm, as she believed only another werewolf could harm her, and she'd smell another wolf coming at her.
 
Those warnings about the night were given for a reason. The male liked to think it was because of him; Damion, scourge of the night. Yes, that sounded good. Damion leaned against the top of a tree, his nocturnal eyes watching the girl. Her unique scent wafted into his nostrils, thrilling him to a great degree. Slowly, the fangs that were hidden as his canines extended to just above his bottom teeth. Eyes like the darkest of red became narrowed and slightly feral.

Damion had figured to cut his hair to a shorter length, due to complaints that he got blood in his raven black hair when feeding, so now it was down to his eyes and ears. The Vampire realized that the girl had not noticed his presence, since her blood rush and pressure had not increased. "Wolf..." he whispered with a sharp hiss.
 
Michaela skidded to a stop, listening. She'd heard a voice...somewhere. It had been faint, whispered, but there. Her nose lifted, flared, twitching as she scented the evening breeze. She smelled no one. No one close enough, anyway...a few kids, partying probably, far upwind, well out of hearing range. She tensed, her full lips curving into a frown.
 
Damion chuckled slyly, standing up on the branch and flexing his arms. The hunt was just about to begin... and it started with a wolf. With a smirk, Damion jumped off and landed on the ground, just a while behind Michaela. He closed his mouth and hid his fangs as he strode down the dirt path towards the girl.
 
Michaela turned, dropping a little, almost into a crouch. The muscles across her shoulders tensed, and her hands curled into loose fists. Her gaze settled on Damion. Her nose twitched, scenting the faint wind.

What the hell...?

He wasn't human or wolf, she knew that. But what was he? Her nose continued to twitch, trying vainly to figure out what this creature was. Her lip curled into a snarl, but she said nothing.
 
Damion smiled; she noticed him, obviously. "Hello." he said with a ghostly smirk. Giving his neck a little crack, he began to slow move towards her. The Vampire, he had counted, was easily over 20,000 years old, much older than most of the Vampires he knew. That meant he was strong. Very strong. But it had interested him to see how strong (not to mention flexible) this female werewolf was going to be.
 
"Back off," she snarled, her soft lips twisting into a snarl. She turned her body to sheild herself against the attack she figured was coming. Her heart beat steadily, her blood thrumming through her veins. Her body knew what it was doing, instinctively preparing for a fight like it had so many times before: feet braced wide, weight on her toes, knees and elbows loose. Part of her wanted him to attack, because the wolf really wanted to brawl...but she also wanted him to shrink back, intimidated.
 
"I don't think so, woman. I'm in need for a healthy snack; and you look just right for the part," Damion replied with a malicious laugh. He was too, ready for a fight. Though he wanted her to fight back, he couldn't risk an all-out brawl, since she was sure to call on her brethren. Although he was strong, he wasn't able to handle a whole wolf clan against him, especially when he didn't have any comrades at the moment to speak of.

Allowing his fangs to extend a bit further, he vanished in a flurry of wind. Slowly, the space around the girl became dense, signaling a quick attack from somewhere.
 
Her first thought was He needs a snack? Please! But when he disappeared, her heart started pounding harder. She'd never encountered one before, but she'd heard the myths: vampire.

And here she was, separated from her pack.

No, stop that. She tensed, her nerves singing. The slightest noise or breath of wind made her twitch. Concentrate! The wolf paced restlessly inside her, hackles raised. She growled, a low, animalistic sound, and let the wolf take some control. Not enough to change forms, but just enough to help her fight. Her vision changed, reds going grey and the shadows brightening. Her lungs expanded further than usual, drawing in more air. Her heart beat harder, stronger, the muscle thickening to drive her blood faster through her arteries.
 
Damion suddenly appeared behind her, swinging his arms around her waist in a movement that was too fast for her to see. "Gotcha," he whispered in her ear, his fangs showing and near her neck. "Let's see the pooch," he teased the wolf inside her.
 
Michaela snarled, twisting and kicking. Her hands latched onto his arm, her nails digging into his skin. Though they were thickened, her nails weren't claws. Yet.

She snapped her jaws, catching nothing more than air, but her upper and lower canines had lengthened. The bones of her face ached, just on the cusp of breaking and thrusting outward. "Do not touch me, batling," she spat, her voice harsh and raspy.
 
Damion laughed at her struggle, holding easily though he knew that he was about to transform. He would have to let go by then, or risk getting a dislocated shoulder two. "Haha! I'm sorry, girl, but you have wrong intel. My people do not descend from bats." he explained with a chuckle.
 
She growled in reply, more because her vocal chords were changing than because she couldn't think of anything to say. Her jaw cracked, and she howled in pain. The bone jutted forward a little, then knit roughly together as the front part of her face did the same. She snapped her head back, trying for a head-butt.
 
Damion moved his head to he side to dodge the close blow to the head. She was gaining agility more rapidly than he thought. Soon she would be able to match his normal, "non-cheating" speed. But would she be able to match his strength and wits?
 
She went still for a minute, panting hard. Her fingers remained curled into his arm. Her breath rasped through her teeth. She growled again. "Bat," she spat, her voice barely recognizable.
 
Damion just laughed once again, until he froze also, beginning to sense the change in her blood type. She was changing now; he needed to move. With a small grunt, he let go of the woman/wolf and jumped back a considerably safe distance, waiting to watch the transformation.
 
Michaela dropped into a crouch and turned, facing Damion. Her fingertips brushed the dirt path, then pressed down agaisnt it. Her eyes flashed with that eerie gold-green light of a wild animal in the dark. He'd let her go for now, but his exact level of threat was unknown. She growled again. "Batling." Her voice was clearer, the change paused.
 
Damion watched warily, flexing his fingers to be ready for an attack. She was going to be a tough one to take down, and to take away to his "place".
 
Her nostrils flared. She laughted, but it sounded more like a series of barks. "Giving up already, batling?" She darted forward a little, testing his reaction.
 
Damion didn't flinch. "Sorry, just getting excited... in more ways than one." he said with a wide smirk. At once, he move forward and aimed a knee at her chest.
 
Michaela tried to twist out of the way, but she wasn't quite quick enough. His knee struck her shoulder, knocking her off-balance. She hit the path hard on her side, but she scrambled to her feet. She gave Damion one final growl, and then turned and bolted into the woods.
 
Damion clearly followed suit, using his nose to track her scent through the woods. His fangs gleamed in the moonlight as his muscles flexed each time he took a step. Blood was needed in his system, and she was the perfect one to get it from... provided, of course, that he could catch her.
 
Michaela leaped over raised roots and tangles of undergrowth, slapping her palms against any tree she came too close to. She rased up a hill, only to find the other side had fallen away in a mudslide. She tried to skid to a stop, but her sneakers couldn't find grip in time, and she tumbled over the edge. She rolled until she hit a tree at the bottom of the hill. Her side ached from the collision, and she belatedly realized her ankle now hurt. She grumbled, realizing she must have hit it during her fall.

But she could only spare a couple seconds on her injuries. They were minor, and she could hear the vampire pursuing her. No use hiding; he'd find her. She scrambled up into a crouch, her back to the tree, to wait.
 
Damion was already on top of her; that is, crouching on a branch above her. Luckily for him, he had no need to breath, and thus allowed him to watch her in secret. He wanted to see her emotions and fears, something that he had lost when he turned of age.
 
Michaela stood still, breathing as quietly as she could manage. All she could hear was the normal night sounds: wind rustling the leaves, some small animal moving through the undergrowth. But no sounds of pursuit.

She relaxed, but only a little. Her fingers probed her bruised ribs, and she hissed a little at the sharp pain. Her ankle throbbed. She could run on it if she had to, but she would much rather let it rest.
 
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