A Lust for Venom [Morathor x Love]

[Love]

Days, months, years, decades - time didn't matter to a vampire. But to a fallen angel? Time mattered, but not as you would think it should. Angels and demons never count how old they are. They simply exist. And they continue to exist; knowing that the clock is ticking, knowing that the end of the world is near, and knowing that the gavel of humanity will fall in judgement. So if you asked Skylar how old she was, she wouldn't have an honest answer to give. How can you ask Purity how old it was, or Peace, or Love? The Holy One breathed life into Skylar and she existed for a purpose; an angelic soul created to uphold Faith, to serve Truth, and to battle against Evil.

If you asked Skylar how old she was, she would tell you that she was one thousand four hundred and thirty seven years old. Because that is when she fell from heaven's Host of angels and began walking as a creature amongst the humans. She had done something so terribly bad that her halo had been stripped, and existing as an outcast - a fallen angel - was now her role in the universe. What did that mean? She wasn't sure, and really didn't want to know. The only thing Skylar wanted to know was how to get back into heaven and be amongst the Host once again. So for one thousand four hundred and thirty seven years she has been seeking to redeem herself by protecting the one thing that mattered most to the Holy One.

Humanity.

Vampire hunting had become her vocation, now. In today's world it was hard to locate a vampire, but not impossible. Supernatural creatures were forced to live undetected and unnoticed from society, and everyone - every thing - was pretty much experts at existing in secret. Skylar knew where to look, though. She had garnered quite a reputation for hunting them down. That wealthy millionaire Heath Davenport who went missing a few years ago? Well, that was Skylar's work. It would have upset the entire nation if they knew that Heath had been a vampire who had overstepped his curtesy. Daniella Lu' Reutan? Yes, Skylar came knocking on her door, too. She no longer haunts the streets of old Paris. Let's not forget Father Dean, either. The last thing that old vampire saw was Skylar's sword slicing through his neck like butter. These names are only a drop in the bucket of vampires she had traced down and executed over hundreds of years. It had become a way of life. And when a creature becomes as all-consuming and dedicated to something as Skylar was to hunting down the blood sucking bastards, knowing where to look for them was like knowing the backside of your hand.

Tonight, she was on the hunt. Skylar had known about this particular vampire for hundreds of years, but hadn't really started hunting him until now. Sometimes it took her only a few days to track them down and kill them. Sometimes it took years. It all depended on how good they were in hiding, and how powerful they had made themselves. This one seemed to elude her in every possible way. By now, it was certain this vampire was aware that he had attracted a Hunter and that she was on his trail, and possibly even enjoyed a little 'cat and mouse' game to boot. He had become sloppy cleaning up after his meals, as if leaving breadcrumbs for her to follow. And that was alright by Skylar. It only made things easier for her knowing that, in the end, the cat always got her mouse. And Skylar had been playing her part as the good little kitten...waiting patiently for him to slip up, or grow tired of the heat.

It was always easier to find the nesting ground of a vampire and kill the creature during the day as it slept. Did he sleep in a partying pent house? A lonely apartment? A house with a white fence? An unmarked grave? She wasn't for sure about this one. He hid is lair well. So Skylar had learned his habits; his routines, methods, and routes. She knew that he favored the old, abandoned Woodsworth factory. It was 7 floors high with multiple rooms of broken equipment, shattered windows, and deserted memories for blue-collared humans. He was familiar with its shadows, and Skylar knew he had led her here for a final reckoning.

She was on high alert. Stepping carefully through the 4000 sq ft plus room, her leather boots didn't make a sound, and her steady breathes were silently calm. She was not a fool, and already had her sword drawn. Experience had long ago taught her how fast the damn monsters could be - faster than the eye could compute. This is why Skylar always listened to the air, and tuned herself in to the dusty drafts of the old furniture-making factory. Her silver hair, with its length long enough to pull back into a pony tail, was the only light-hued element upon her persona aside from fair skin. Her clothes were shades of dark - from black jeans to a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Beneath her jacket was a sleeveless robe, fish-tail garment which served to conceal her sword on the streets. The fallen angel traveled light. It wasn't by fancy tools that she chose to hunt with; instead, her tools were the strength of the Divine, the flight of Power, the swiftness of Mercy, and the steel of a samurai blade. The blue spheres of her eyes scanned the room from top to bottom, looking for that vampire who she knew was here.

Come out, come out, come out... she taunted thoughts in her mind. Let's find out how well you can dance.

 

[Morathor]

There were worse fates than death.

Mateo considered himself an expert on the subject, having died more than seven hundred years prior. Compared to the petty, mundane life he had lived before (and especially to the soul-withering misery that had known at the end), death had been something of a relief. A rebirth. In the intervening centuries, Mateo had experienced many things worse than death, although most of them were variations on the same problem.

Boredom.

If there was a point to existence, it was simply to enjoy. And when existence got dull, Mateo would risk everything to liven it up. And that usually meant catching the attention of a hunter.

This time, though, it was not just a hunter. She was the hunter, the ultimate vampire hunter who had been on Mateo's tail for half his existence. The ageless hunter who had been stalking his kind since before he was his kind. He had never taken such a big risk before--not just a risk of dying, but a risk of running out of excitement. Even if he succeeded, if he grew bored of this woman what was left?

But it didn't matter. None of that mattered. After seven centuries, this was the only thing he could think of to add a little spice to his afterlife. She was the only challenge left in the world for him. And in all the time she had been tracking him, he had been studying her, as cautiously as he could. (He could be quite cautious, when he felt like it.) He had gathered as much detail as he could about her methods, her victories, and somewhere along the way he had even learned her name. Skylar.

And now his trail of crumbs had led her--only her, no lesser hunter would have connected the dots--to a battleground of his choosing. This was his personal slaughterhouse, where he brought prey he intended to make a mess of. No scrape of metal or scream of agony would attract attention here. And of course, he knew it well, knew every hiding spot and bit of cover, every shadow and vantage point. Now he watched the hunter from the darkness, blending smoothly into the deepest shadows--otherwise he would have stood out, a deeper shadow amidst the shadows. His tailored suit, his glossy hair, and his bottomless eyes were all jet black.

He reached behind himself, careful not to make even the slightest sound, and pulled a knife from the back of his belt. He had more, an even dozen in fact, stashed in various places on his person. Mateo hurled the knife at the hunter's shoulder; even from this distance, his aim was flawless. But he did not wait to see if the blade connected, instead moving on to his next hiding spot. This entire plan was reckless beyond belief, but that didn't mean he was taking any unnecessary chances with her... he did want to win this, after all.

 

[Love]

A shift in the ambience of air, like a draft being sliced apart, was what alerted Skylar to the oncoming threat. She was fast. It was mere instinct that ordered her muscles how to dodge the deadly knife. With feet planted firmly, her upper torso jerked into a sideways lean just mere inches off the cutting mark of the soaring weapon. It silently sliced passed her shoulder on its deadly course, missing. Then loosing its momentum, it dropped on its course and clanked to the concrete floor of the expansive room, clinking pummel over point until it crashed into a distant brick wall. But Skylar's eyes were already piercing the shadows from whence it came, looking for that shady vampire who had fled to another corner of the room.

"Good aim." She praised into the darkness, cooly. She took two measured steps into the direction that the knife had been flung from, closing that distance. "But you're going to have to try harder."

She hadn't seen him yet. Vampires were always so excellent with darkness and shadows. It used to grate on her nerves, being a creature of light, but she had become accustomed by now to searching the obscure shapes and forms hidden within the murky absence of illumination. She twirled her long blade in a once fluid circle, switching hands with the weaponry tool, well aware that where there was one dagger...there could be two, or more.

It didn't bother her that she was pinned at a disadvantage, with the element of surprise in the monster's hands. She had been in far worse situations before, and she owned them all. Her adrenaline for a fight was at a peak, and it was this push for a more direct contact that audibly poked and goaded the vampire to reveal himself. "Come face me. Are you afraid?" She sneered into the darkness of the room. "I am nothing but a little girl with a sword." Silvery bangs framed her face, having long ago lost their angelic, blond glow. The smile on her face took humor at her own statement.

 

[Morathor]

"Don't sell yourself short." His mocking voice echoed through the area, the sound bouncing off so many walls, pillars, and rafters that it would be impossible to pinpoint him just from that. "I've been watching your career with interest for some time. And I know you've been doing the same for me. I'm so glad we finally got this chance to meet."

He hurled two more knives, one right after the other, and the second with a strange spin that changed its course from a straight line to more of an arc. Dodging the first could easily put her in the path of the second, if she didn't notice it was coming. Still, he wasn't going to make any assumptions about that landing either, and once again darted to a different hiding spot as soon as the second blade left his fingers.

"So please understand, my caution is the highest compliment I can bestow upon you."

 

[Love]

The smooth tone of the vampire bounced from every direction; his voice giving the illusion of a surrounding sound. Skylar frowned, disappointed that he didn't take her bait. "Yes, Mateo." The hunter used his name, validating their study of each other. "Our meeting is overdue, and although it gives me great pleasure to finally speak to you, it would give me greater pleasure if you'd just offer to me your neck".

This time Skylar didn't need to dodge any weapons thrown at her. He had already revealed his game to her. She had been ready for them. Just like the first, she became alerted by the disturbances in the musky air of the old factory, and with lightening reflexes she deflected the first dagger by a swing of her sword. It clipped her blade and ricocheted off into the distance. The second knife, thrown with a clever spin meant to meet a dodging target, entirely missed her simply because she hadn't moved from her spot. But it still irked her. The vampire had tricks up his sleeves, and Skylar disliked that.

"Don't flatter me." She responded hotly.

Skylar had tricks, too, and she was tired of standing as a dart board in the middle of the room. She may have been a fallen angel, but she was still an angel. Powers still harbored within her veins. With her sword held in one hand, she outstretched her second and released a blinding ball of light. It was not light from any sun, but was a light that fed off it's own source. It swathed her in a radiant glow, forcing her frame to be nothing more than an outlined silhouette for any naked eye. At the same time it illuminated the entire room, chasing the shadows away, and revealed all. Skylar found that damned creature, now having no place to hide, and she charged forward with her sword. Three steps to pick up speed, she leapt into the air to collide into the vampire, swinging her sword high to bring it down in a slicing arch

 

[Morathor]

Mateo winced as blinding light filled the warehouse. He had not expected that. But then, it made a certain amount of sense. He had never actually seen Skylar fight before--too risky. Some of his information had come from humans she had rescued (a temporary reprieve, of course), but he considered his most reliable source to be the scenes of her battles. From various traces left behind, and his knowledge of his targets, he could learn quite a bit about how the fights had played out. And he had seen time and again, that vampires who he knew preferred to strike from the shadows, were somehow or other dragged into a direct confrontation. The fights didn't last long after that.

Mateo wasn't like those vampires. He could hide and lurk and stalk as expertly as any of them, but in the end he preferred the rush of a real fight. And honestly, if Skylar could be taken down without ever getting his hands on her, she wouldn't have been worth the effor he had put into luring her here. So, this was fine. Not ideal, he had hoped to study her a bit more before getting into close combat, but it was by no means a disaster. Besides, he still had at least one more chance to probe her skills before they really got into it...

Most people would have sealed their fate with a leap like Skylar was making now. Once their feet were off the ground, they were committed to that trajectory. They could move their limbs, twist a little, but there was very little they could do to alter their course. And Mateo already had his next three knives in hand, the last of his throwing knives; the rest of his blades were better suited to melee combat, or torture.

Of course, Skylar was not 'most people', she wasn't even human, and surely she was far too experienced to make such a blunder. So what would she do, when he sent the three knives sailing at her center of mass from various angles? (Although, as before, he did not wait to find out before moving; as soon as the blades were out of his hands he scurried back out of the arc of her blade.)

 

[Love]

It was akin to an apparition. Skylar's angelic wings appeared, and they unfurled behind her. Both appendages whispered against the air, appearing as white as a dove, and as airy as a cloud. You could see right through them. They pumped with one grand sweep that maneuvered Skylar's leaping approach into a somersault. Spinning in mid-flight placed all three daggers at a miss. One shot passed her right shoulder, another whizzed by her ribs, and the last nearly scraped her hip. All the while, she never lost any momentum in that bold attack. Just as her single somersault came to an end, and her sword was on a downwards slice to meet it's mark, Skylar's wings disappeared by dissipation as if they never even existed at all.

Her feet landed as sure as could be, right in tandem to the downwards cut of her samurai sword, but there was no cold flesh to satisfy the blade. Mateo had slipped out of her range. Still using the same momentum, Skylar's weapon recovered into an upwards slice, from eight o-clock towards two o-clock, while rushing forwards. The entire point of having leapt into the air was to close the distance and to draw the fight into personal space. It worked, for Mateo was only about two feet off the tip of her sword as she brought it into that upwards cut. This two feet, however, was swallowed up quickly by her running attack. Skylar's up cut sword lunged from two o-clock into three o-clock, and she swiped it towards nine as fast as a snake, intending to cut the vampire's neck wide open. There was nothing but a resolute determination gleaming from Skylar's blue gaze that suggested how convinced she was that Mateo must die. Her sword knew no hesitation.

 

[Morathor]

Ah. She can fly. Now that was interesting. He didn't really have an answer to that--but then, there was a limit to how much good it could do her. There were very few weapons, even with all the wonders of modern technology, that could put a vampire down at a distance. Most of the ones that might work (and even then, only might) were millitary issue, hard to get a hold of. And then there was the whole other matter of knowing how to use them. So, Skylar sticking to the sword, which she'd surely had centuries to master, made sense. But it also meant that, wings or no, she would have to come in close if she wanted to take him down.

Mateo twisted to the side and allowed her blade to sweep past him, but there was so much power in her slash that wind shook him. She was inhumanly strong, perhaps even stronger than he was. (Perhaps. He would find out soon, he supposed.) She wasn't as fast, but her experience largely made up for it.

Largely, but perhaps not entirely. Mateo was swift enough to take advantage of openings in her large slashing attacks--they were necessary if she wanted to take his head, but they left her more exposed than cautious, reserved thrusts. This time, rather than running out of her reach, Mateo bolted towards Skylar, further closing the gap between them, all but negating the advantages of reach and leverage her longer blade provided. As she swept her sword towards his neck, he met it just above the crossguard with twin knives, blades crossed to catch the edge of her weapon.

For a moment--just a moment--he resisted her swing with all his might. He wanted to see just how strong she was. But after that, rather than devoting too much energy to blocking her outright, he pushed upward, guiding her blade in an arc over his head. Once he was satisfied that this stroke was too far off course to behead him, he slipped his left knife away from the blade (leaving his right to continue his defense; he couldn't let his guard down completely) and took a swipe at Skylar's right forearm.

 

[Love]

All vampires were the same. They may live different lives, seek different blood, and pursue different interests; but they were nothing more than predictable creatures clinging to shadows and lurking between secrets. Their habits of nature helped them survive. The faster a vampire transformed and acclimated to the raw instincts of the calling, the longer they were able to stick around and plague the world. Vampires always tried to dodge her blade. They always ran back to the shadows, if able to. They always chose to avoide her at all cost unless she forced them out of that cowardice comfort-zone. Skylar knew it was not out of cowardice though, which is how it appeared to many unseasoned hunters. She knew they were highly cautious creatures who only chose to engage contact if they saw the gaurantee of a promising meal. She wasn't quite sure how the blood of a fallen angel would taste to them because they never attempted to fang her neck, and it always stood as truth...that Skylar was no meal they desired.

Seven hundred years should have been long enough for Mateo to know what was best for him. He should have leapt away like all the others - just as she anticipated. So when he opted to surge forward and meet her halfway, his daring venture surprised Skylar. Her eyes widened and she caught her breath long enough to have the ringing sound of weapons collide. Her swing for his neck momentarily paused, prematurely caught short matching strength for strength in the defense of his crossguard. Her wide spheres now narrowed with animosity for the risk-taking vampire. She wouldn't have rushed forward with such broad slices if any doubt had remained that he would remain to pick apart the openings.

His left knife cut into her right forearm, slicing open her muscle. Growling painfully and snarling, her right hand quickly released her sword but it wasn't in mind for her wound. Business before pain. She grabbed the vampire's left wrist in a vice-like wrap, instead, denying his weapon any more sneaky attacks. Leaving her left hand to reckon with his right knife that had guided her sword into a swinging slice that missed his head, she leveled her core upon a right foot and kicked high with her left. The sole of her boot plunging deep into his gut, and pushing him away at the same time to clear the board, giving her some space.

The kick would have broken several ribs in any normal human, but Mateo was no human. She made sure he had been shoved far enough to pillage a glance upon her wound. Skylar grimaced at the pain radiating, but was increasingly aware of something else surging through her system as a result. Her adrenaline was peaking high, her breathes were heavy, and her angelic cunt was hot and bothered. She couldn't remember the last time she had been wounded in this nature. Sure, Skylar was no stranger to minor cuts, bruises, and abraisons. The affair was pretty much strapped to her back in this line of work. But his knife had sliced deep, and her arm was becoming messy from the spill of blood. This wound - the violation of it - marred her familiar resolve. She didn't know why, but this vampire had broken the redundant normalcy she had grown familiar with.

Skylar fell transfixed into the shock of this change. She had never imagined a fight triggering her sexual buttons. She clearly felt aroused, and briefly wondered if Mateo's knife had some sort of poison on it. Her left hand still held her sword just as expertly as her right would have, and she extended two fingers from the hilt to touch and probe her skin near the wound, pulling the flesh to examine and see how deep the cut went. It made her nipples swell and made her wet between the legs, to see the evidence of a bold and daring attack upon her angelic body. It rarely never happened like this.

 

[Morathor]

The feeling of his knife digging into Skylar's flesh was so thrilling, he hardly minded the pain of being kicked away. He minded the distance, though. Mateo was currently in the safest place compared to her--entirely out of reach of her sword. However, she had already proven quite proficient at evading his thrown knives, especially since the balance on his remaining weapons didn't allow for any of his more advanced tricks. So, if he wanted to get at her, he would have to get in close, which meant crossing that most dangerous zone, where her sword could reach him but his knives couldn't reach her. And she would be more cautious now, he was sure.

Except...

Except she seemed distracted by her wound. She was looking at it, instead of moving in for the kill. Of course, he was still within her field of vision, so it wasn't as though she was ignoring him completely. Mateo was sure that if he made a move, she would respond--but perhaps a hair slower than she would have otherwise. With the skill and speed possessed by both fighters, a split second could make all the difference in the world.

He would chance it. He threw his left knife--no fancy tricks or arcs, just a straight shot at her left shoulder. At this range, he could compensate for the balance of the knife and throw quite accurately, and Skylar would have less time to react. It probably wouldn't hit, but it might keep her occupied as he rushed towards her, drawing yet another knife into his left hand. And if it did hit, well, her swordplay would surely suffer with both her arms injured...