Messages

31

Alternate Realities / Re: ALTERNATIVE: Ruby Red Slippers

« on: January 27, 2020, 04:58:26 AM »

Damien blinked at the tall being and furrowed his brow. "Evans?" Damien asked. This one was a strange creature, indeed. "My name is Damien TooLoose, the mayor of the town of Shirm, a councellor to the Mayor of Munchkinland. THis is my home, you absurd giant! What are you doing here, coming into town on a cyclone. That's dangerous business in these parts, you know."

THere was a growling sound low at his legs and Damien looked down to see Pierre had emerged from the hutch at last and stood guarding his owner from the giant. He reached down and pat the dog, the long black hair of Pierre's coat whisping back downwards as the small dog calmed to a grumble, his eyes on the giant still. "It's a good thing Pierre found you here. Lots of folks get swept up by cyclones and never get put back down again!"

32

Alternate Realities / Re: ALTERNATIVE: Ruby Red Slippers

« on: January 27, 2020, 04:40:35 AM »

As Pierre came skittering into the house, tracking mud, leaves and who knew what else, Damien got his first glance of the cyclone and sighed.

"Again?" He turned towards Pierre, who cowered under the table, his fur all aquiver and that bottom tooth sticking out beyond his furry mouth. "Why is it that you always bring cyclones with you back into the house?" Damien scowled, keeping the door wide open. The cyclone would be passing, of course, and it was better to leave the doors open to allow the wind to escape on its own, rather than by wrenching the thing off its hinges.

As the storm passed, rustling his newspapers and files about the businesses of Shirm, Damien stood to see what the cyclone had brought to town. Cyclones were good for collecting new things. As he stepped outside, he saw the giant winged creature transform into a long-limbed thing instead. How curious!

"Excuse me!" He called out, stepping out of the doorway towards the tall creature, who was at least five heads taller than he.

33

Alternate Realities / Re: ALTERNATIVE: Ruby Red Slippers

« on: January 27, 2020, 04:28:41 AM »

Pierre trodded about, sniffing at some trees on the edge of town when the ground started to rumble. His ears rose high on his furry head, his attention sharpened at the new vibration in the air. His eyes widened as he watched the horizon of the little town of Shirm on the outskirts of Munchkinland.

An enormous cyclone was reaching down from the darkest clouds, hurtling towards the small town at a terrifying pace. The air, once stiff, now pulled at his fur as the winds sucked him closer, weakly at first but growing in intensity. Pierre barked at the cyclone and then twisted to run back to the town, barking madly as he went.

When Damien finally appeared in his ruby slippers - the ones he was not supposed to chew on, Pierre remembered after all the scoldings - Pierre ran past his leg and into the small hutch that was their home.

34

Alternate Realities / ALTERNATIVE: Ruby Red Slippers

« on: January 27, 2020, 04:13:52 AM »

BACKSTORY:

We were getting overwhelmed by our own innate need to write the perfect story. For years we - Cedar and I - have been working on weaving our plotlines and characters together and working on how it needed to look and be. We have become too expectant of ourselves with writing High Drama^tm that we started losing a sense of fun. This alternative thread seeks to end that and help us find the fun in (mostly) unstructured plot, characters, and imperfect writing.

RULES:

• Each post takes NO LONGER than five minutes to type up.
• Each post has to be improvised - no pre-planning.
• Each post has to be reactionary to the post before it either through dialogue or action of characters.
• The plot can change and move away from the original intentions of this introductory post.
• No post can be edited for clarity, typing errors, or to cover any holes in the narrative.
• Authors cannot use each others' character.
• Multiple characters' perceptions can be used per post.
• There must be a new post at least every other day.
• If other authors would like to enter the story, please contact Cedar or myself for details and ideas.

THE PREMISE:
Chtahzus'aak has been transported into another dimension that resembles the world of Oz. Strange things happen and his goal is to get back to the Earthly plane. He meets some friends (and enemies) along the way.

35

Awelfor Manor / Re: Searching for a Former Clarity

« on: January 26, 2020, 01:35:46 PM »

Nikolai sneered, shaking his head in his hands. "Of fucking course." The cigarette remained pinched between his lips, burning his eyes with smoke.

"How do you even know who I am?" His words dripped poison, lashing out like an animal trapped. Cackling and swirling in his head where Laurent's eyes watched.

36

Awelfor Manor / Re: Searching for a Former Clarity

« on: January 26, 2020, 12:58:14 PM »

The hand against Sonya's back froze in its position for a while as a surge of undeterminable sensations flooded his consciousness. The heat of fury, the cascade of despair, a twist of betrayal... He felt himself blink his eyes slowly, the words burning through any of his relief at her return.

Judas roared in his ear, a stretching maw of black teeth and ear-splitting sound that grew from a lowly growl into a blinding clamor of mixed voices. Howling. Cackling. Whimpering... Chittering, rumbling, roaring, clanging, shaking... He was sure he would explode with the pressure of it all. Laurent. Judas. Mitchelletto.

Nikolai opened his eyes that he didn't remember closing and the sound was gone.

"You've been back for three months?" The words dried his throat and his voice was a hoarse whisper as he sat up, pulling himself far away from any physical contact with her.

Three months ago was hard to remember, the earth black and every footstep hazy in his mind. He thought of the fear that coursed through him when he recognized his sire's face. Rage pushed its way forward when he remembered being on his knees in front of Laurent once again, the sickness that built in his stomach and throat. He had been their plaything for the past few months. They had taken his tongue against the mention of them, the slivers of freedom that he had left after the drugs had taken their fill, taken his blood and used it for their own purposes. They had tried to drown him in forced obedience and servitude. And all the while, Sonya - the key to ending their hold over him - was out of the sea.

Why hadn't he known sooner?

A lightning bolt struck him and Nikolai flinched as Judas bucked his control, shaking him in his own body. Nikolai shook his head and re-established his control. He caught his aching head in his hands as his elbows found his knees off the edge of the bed. His gut churned and nausea washed him, reminding him that his current addiction was simply a chaser to his own insanity.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Weakness in his voice and a resulting whipping from his other half. Nikolai groaned in chest at the sensation. Something foreign inside of him laughed at the shortcoming. The image of a noose tightening around his neck flooded him unwillingly and he tasted the raw coppery flavor of torn tissue like a ghost on the back of his tongue.

Why didn't you find me? Nikolai's head snapped to the right as Judas took another swing at him, nearly toppling him from his own awareness. Not now, he pleaded. Not while she was finally here again. Not while he had such limited time to spend with her before she disappeared again. Temporary, Nikolai begged, hoping he was wrong. Judas' hold loosened around his throat and Nikolai could move again, running his fingers through his hair. He couldn't ask these things because he knew the answer.

Her own madness had taken her. He had seen it in her struggle for composure last night. She didn't remember who he was.

Did she now?

"What do you remember about before you went to ground?" The words dried him out again and suddenly he was very thirsty for the taste of dirty blood.

37

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 26, 2020, 10:36:32 AM »

Quinn frowned, his eyes chasing the her attention to the phone. "Okay," he responded resigned to the knowledge that there was probably nothing that he could do to cheer her up. It wasn't some break up where a pint of ice cream would get them through it all, onto the next guy. Watching her like this brought up the reminder that he knew close to nothing about the past five years of her life. It hurt him deeply to not know this person in front of him. It was then that he became aware of the kind of misery that he had never endured before and that it had sewn itself in to the very fabric of the person she had become. Not the drunken rampages of Michael, not the beatings from his step-father, not even the death of his father had given him this kind of irreparable damage.

This was a matter of her life or death.

He stayed quiet for a moment, watching Rachel with the kind of hesitance of someone unsure of how to step next. There was nothing he could say to quell her fears of losing Damien or returning to a horrible life. There was nothing he could do to lift her mood or make her forget. There was nothing, nothing at all. He began to wonder how dangerous being in the Rabbit actually was for him and his thoughts flitted upon Malakai.

Quinn found his hand on the bottle of whiskey as he was pouring the shot, pulled from his reverie by the sound of what he was doing. He poured two shots sloppy, not bothering to weigh his seconds against his pour. Proper measurements wouldn't matter tonight, he figured. With a head in the clouds and the feeling of watching himself from some outside perspective, Quinn circled the bar with both shots in hand and sat down in the stool next to Rachel, scooting it closer so that he was touching her side when he sat. He took the first shot without hesitation, grimacing against the burn and choke of a rough whiskey he hardly drank. But it was warmth that followed, chasing amber liquor down his throat and echoing from his chest until his tension eased.

"I'm so sorry, Rache." About everything: all of the bad things, the bad people, the bad memories, the fear, the humiliation, the anger... But is lips couldn't find the strength to name such atrocities. Naming them, for Quinn, would mean that they were true. And he didn't want them to be true of his Rachel, the one who smiled big and helped him steal laundry soap from the grocery store when they were poor. The one who tiptoed quietly to her room when she knew he had a guy over. The one who tucked him in at night and checked on him every few hours after he had tried to call his own life quits. She had always been too good for the world and he hated that someone had the ability to reduce her to nothing.

He didn't bother to look at her, but threw an appreciative arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently closer. Quinn rested his cheek against the top of her forehead, hoping that she would remain there and let him do what he could to ground her, instead of pushing him away.

-----

Pierre pursed his lips thoughtfully as they hit a dead end on the sire bond trail. Maybe it didn't mean anything at all, and that Sam was just getting further away from the connection. Maybe it worked like that sometimes.

When her playful punch came, he tried not to start, his nerves getting the best of him. Shen looked away from his just as he had found her gaze on him again and he wondered a ridiculous thought. Pierre smirked at her tiredly, but thankful to have her to jest with, even if it was about nothing in particular.

"I'm glad you're here with me," he said truthfully, though presently unaware of any impact his words may have caused anyone. "I really wasn't looking forward to spending the rest of the night alone." He leaned towards her, his nose coming close enough to her hair to allow him the pleasure of her scent. It had been a few months since he had been so close to another woman who wasn't Nadia and Pierre couldn't say that he minded the proximity of Lisa-Joe all that much. He spoke into her ear just below human hearing to her in an attempt at a jest, though the humor neither filled nor comforted him. "Rachel doesn't tend to be good company when she's worried for hers or Damien's life."

38

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 25, 2020, 09:46:37 AM »

He didn't need to be a vampire to feel the storm gathering within and between the two women, his eyes darting between the two of them as he returned to wiping the bar absently for something to do with his anxious hands. He didn't like how Rachel jumped, or looked stiff when LJ touched her. Had she been anyone else and had they been talking about anything else, Quinn would have jumped into his usual protective nature regarding Rachel. He glanced at Pierre, who seemed uncomfortable as well, the casual bomb of sexual assaults dropped on the floor for both of them to see and accept. It was sobering for Quinn, but not entirely unexpected given the nature of men, and he looked down at an old stain on the bar. A slow-drip of associative guilt kept his eyes on the bar as he tried not to feel awkward about the topic discussed.

When Rachel asked him for a protein bar, he could have kissed her. "Yeah, babe." He scurried away automatically, taking it as permission to leave briefly. Quinn ducked into the small backroom and dug around in the bag that he had slung onto the ground near one of the stacks of beer cases. A pack of cigarettes, a small pipe loaded with weed, a bunch of lose singles, a thin sweatshirt -- no protein bar. Fuck.

"No dice, Rache." Quinn answered as he lingered in the doorway to the backroom. "Have you eaten at all tonight?" When she shook her head, he suspected as much. "So... Chinese food? The usual?" He smirked, remembering what she would order everytime they did take out back home. Veggie pad thai with extra sauce, nim chow, and crab rangoon. Quinn knew just the place to order as well.

-----

When Rachel had turned her attention to Quinn, Pierre furrowed his brow at Lisa-Joe. "What do you mean 'his blood bond weakened'? How is that even possible?"

From what he understood about normal blood bonds, they were either there or they were not. For Pierre, the bonds with his sire and his fledges were cloudy and more distant than what everyone else described. In his long years, he knew of no reason why a bond would weaken. According to Damien, even when the fledge (or sire) was dying, there was an increase in intensity, like a warning or an alarm to the kin. Not a fade. Perhaps it was different with the clanned vampires.

39

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 25, 2020, 07:19:06 AM »

He had forgotten how much smaller she was in real life, that big attitude playing a role to boost her height in his head when he remembered her. He had to almost bend for their hug, a touch of humor in his eyes as he pulled away from her, murmuring a greeting. Everything still felt tense in his body, despite his relaxed stance and release of Rachel. For Pierre, Lisa-Joe's presence allowed him the headspace to breathe for a moment - she was strong, fiery, and new how to handle herself should the need arise. She also knew how to protect the people she loved - Pierre had seen that plain enough at Charon's big gala when she stepped in front of Jake to protect him (from what, he couldn't remember exactly, having not seen what happened).

And she was skilled in all those clan disciplines that the Clanned vampires had, most of which he would always lack. Pierre considered it a fortunate thing to have her so close by on a night he wasn't at his best.

"Any new developments from Jake or Tyler?" Pierre asked, hopeful that this entire ordeal would be wrapped up quickly. His gaze flicked over to Rachel as she checked the tracking app for Damien's blip on the screen again, but he said nothing, content that the dot was at the very least moving.

40

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 24, 2020, 12:17:55 PM »

At the sound of her voice, despite her initial annoyance, Quinn sighed with relief. It was Lisa-Joe, alright. He had learned to avoid her on the nights where she had her rampages, knowing she would chew out anyone in her path - customers and co-workers alike. Now, he was just happy to hear the lack of strain in her voice that indicated actual distress. He sagged noticeably until she demanded his words again.

"Oh," Quinn said, jumping a little and losing any words he had intended to say. "Uh... Are you... okay?" He threw a look at Rachel and Pierre, who both looked at him confused. "Because you just scared the ever-living shit out of me, Rachel, a few customers and," he waved his hand, figuring that she would know who the vampire guarding Rachel was, "...Pierre, I guess."

41

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 22, 2020, 01:55:56 PM »

He was on his feet between Rachel and the noise issuing from the office before the humans in the bar even registered it happening. Pierre instinctually put his back against Rachel, blocking her from any would-be threats while the skin on the back of his neck prickled and his eyes fixated in the direction of the office.

"What the hell was that?" Quinn asked worriedly and made to go around the bar to investigate. Behind him, Pierre could hear both of the humans' hearts pounding in their chests. Even the old humans at the other end of the bar, who had been wrapped up in the watching of a basketball game and sipping their beers, looked up and towards the office with an expression and mumble of concern.

Pierre threw out an open palm at the bartender, glancing sideways at him but keeping Rachel within his peripheral view, his back against her shoulder as she cowered in the chair. "Don't go anywhere," Pierre commanded and thankfully the human stopped mid stride. Quinn's expression read of concern and debate, and even without being able to read the human's mind his body language told Pierre that he was considering disobeying. "Get someone else to check it out." His tone left no room for debate and he watched as the human returned to his place behind the bar.

---

He could feel his blood in his ears, hot in his skin despite the chills that ran down his spine. Now something was happening with Lisa-Joe? Quinn looked from Pierre to a terrified Rachel and back. Was Pierre serious? He couldn't just leave her if she was in trouble... But what good was he if this was that demon? The threat towards Rachel was forced into a sharp relief of realness now that there was a vampire guarding Rachel, telling him what to do as he stood helpless behind the bar. If he left to go check on LJ, would he fall into some master villainous plan and end up causing Rachel more pain? Or end up dead? He swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, his thoughts flickering briefly over the people he would be leaving behind if he made such a decision. Or would he have to leave Lisa-Joe to potentially handle herself?

But she was a vampire. He had watched her put grown men and many a young vampire in their place without breaking the proverbial sweat. What the hell could he do to help her if she was in trouble? It was this Pierre who had a better chance at actually doing something to help her if she needed it. But Pierre's leaving would make him and Rachel vulnerable to mayhem if it was all just a distraction to get Rachel.

What should he do? Manuel and Tyler had gone to the Carnival and to hell if he knew where Amy or Fat Tony were...

Thinking fast he picked up the phone behind the bar and dialed her office number, looking towards the doorway to see if she would emerge. Quinn could hear the phone ring in the other room and suddenly his mouth was too dry. What if it didn't stop ringing? No, that was dumb. This was Lisa-Joe they were talking about. No one was able to fuck with Lisa-Joe Hampton.

42

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 20, 2020, 01:41:26 PM »

"Yeah, of course." Quinn moved briskly back behind the bar, dug up a glass from beneath the counter and made her an ice-water from the tap. Instinctively, he placed a napkin down under the glass like he would any other drink. He watched silently as she slammed her phone down on the bar, feeling like he were interrupting something. He wanted to know what happened, what exactly had been done to cause all the turmoil and chaos but didn't know where to begin, or even if it was appropriate to ask at that very moment. He gathered not, so his intense curiosity and prickling fear remained blended together in his chest as he gave her a moment with her thoughts.

---

Pierre watched Damien leave with a growing sense of trepidation, but said and did nothing. Instead he turned back to his drink and eyed Rachel as she became a mess on the chair. He reached out and rubbed her shoulder in a brotherly kind of way, something that felt as comforting to him as he meant for her. Damien was his sire, after all, and he was the only one alive who had supported Pierre through thick and thin. The idea of him running into a trap and meeting a permanent end sat uncomfortably within him. He, however, wasn't able to show such things around Rachel, the only person who knew Damien better than he did. No, for Rachel he had to be stoic, calm, and controlled like always. It would be Pierre's job to keep her safe, should something happen to Damien.

But he didn't want to think about that right now.

"Come on, Rache," he encouraged softly. "We can't dwell on this. The night will never end." He smiled but it felt fake and he doubted Rachel would fall for it now.

"Do you want something harder than that?" Quinn suggested cautiously from behind the bar, a ribbon of subtle humor in his tone. Pierre frowned, unsure that drinking would be a wise decision, considering the circumstances. He looked at Rachel with a furrowed brow.

"I don't know if that's a good idea..." He wasn't fully convinced it wasn't, either.

"Just something to take the edge off," the human bartender replied, his attention pointed at Rachel. Pierre watched as his face lit up and he ducked in closer to Rachel to speak, though Pierre could clearly hear him in a room so quiet. Fortunately there were only humans down here, two old ones at the opposite end of the bar who sipped beer from frosted mugs and watched whatever sport was on the television. "I have a bit of Northern Lights packed, too, if you're interested."

Pierre's frown deepened as he eyed Quinn. Drinking was one thing, but smoking? Damien had specifically stated not to leave the Rabbit under any circumstances. Pierre had seen an inebriated Rachel and wasn't keen on babysitting like that again tonight, especially not under such circumstances. He said nothing more, pretending not to have heard Quinn until Rachel made it clear in what direction she was willing to go.

43

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 20, 2020, 06:51:35 AM »

In the moment she hesitated a great swell of warmth flooded him as she stumbled through her words, only to be left aching at the end of them. He had thought - no, hoped - that she would tell him in that moment what three words plagued him too. I love you, Damien. He hadn't realized how sincerely he wanted to hear it before he imagined the words coming from her mouth. But she chose her words differently - I'll miss you - and he wondered how much she meant one and not the other.

Foolish, really. There was no room for the philosophy of love now, not when they had so much on their plates. Proclamations of love would do nothing but cloud the mind and make tonight harder. Besides, they weren't supposed to be in love.

"I will be," he promised with as much security as he could muster, resting his forehead against hers. He breathed in her scent and blocked out everything but the sped up beating of her heart as he held her. Damien worried less about himself than for Pierre and Rachel. To fight off his fear, he thought of Lisa-Joe, and the other Anarchs who called this place headquarters, the mysterious witch whose magic kept it safe, and even the stoic Sheriff Luke, whom was built more solidly than Pierre. He needed to be out there helping Jake. "You stay safe. Stay away from all the doors until I get back. Keep your phone and your tracker on. You can watch where I am on that app, okay?" He wrapped her in his arms again and gave her his last kiss of the night. "I will be back. With Jake and Sam."

When she had given him her goodbye, he kissed her hand and turned towards the door. With difficulty, he didn't turn back and made his way to the Lexus outside and headed east.

44

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 20, 2020, 04:14:10 AM »

The comfort of holding her hand ebbed from him at her words. "Oh Rache." He pulled her back into an embrace, a tighter, more protective one this time and held onto her for a moment. She was stiff in his arms, cold like how she got when things were really bad. He still remembered the times when breakups and the despair of poverty were the things they had to face together. The distance between them was painful now, but Quinn swallowed it and held his friend.

At least it wasn't Damien.

When he released her, her hand flew back into Damien's grip, who held her like he would never let her go. It was endearing to see, but a pang of jealousy pulsed through him - jealousy that he had lost his best friend when Rachel was kidnapped and that this vampire had gained a lover. Petty, he knew, and so he pushed it away, unable to process such a thing while there was a crisis at hand.

"So what's the plan?" His question was directed at Rachel, but it was Damien who ended up answering.

"I have to help Jake find Samantha and get her back," he answered, dropping a bomb as if it were simple fact. Quinn reeled. "I have to catch up with him and I can't have Rachel with--"

"Wait, what happened to Sam?" His tone took a frantic edge as he looked between the three of them. The two vampires exchanged a look.

"We think someone kidnapped her as a distraction to get Rachel," Pierre responded calmly after a look at Damien, who nodded in allowance at the younger vampire. Quinn could feel the blood leak from his face.

"Wait--"

"We don't have time for questions, Quinn," Damien responded again with something that sounded like it might have been patience if he didn't examine it. "Rachel and Pierre may be able to fill you in. I need to find Jake."

Quinn swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his understanding, though his head buzzed with anxiety over unanswered questions.

---

"Excuse us," he said stiffly two Quinn and Pierre before taking Rachel away from the group for a private moment of goodbyes. He put a couple feet of distance between himself and the other two men and wrapped Rachel up into an embrace that he didn't want to release. After a few moments of private enjoyment of her warmth and the comfort of having her close and safe, Damien pulled away to kiss her forehead. His hands slipped down to rest on the small of her back, the accent of her hips being a most comfortable resting place for him. She accepted them with a hesitant relaxation and looked at him with those large brown eyes that pulled at him.

Once again, he stopped himself from telling her the words that would only complicate the night.

"You even have Quinn with you here, see? Everything will be okay." He began to believe his own words now that he was in the Rabbit, but the knowledge that he would have to leave her and go off into the city without the promise of her safety hurt more than he could comprehend.

He checked his watch, one that she had bought for him for his most recent birthday. "See? It'll only be for a few hours. I will be back an hour before sunrise to get you, and then we will go home and mostly forget that this whole messy thing happened." He  rubbed at her back with his fingers, something small in the hopes of not drawing anyone's attention to the small affection. "Okay?" He would wait until he knew she was content with both her best friend and Pierre before he released her for the last time and placed a lasting kiss to her hairline.

45

The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting

« on: January 20, 2020, 03:25:55 AM »

Despite his best efforts to contain his stress and frustration, anyone who spent enough time close to Damien knew fairly immediately when he was frazzled. While his sire never wore his emotions on his sleeve, centuries of standing by his side had cued Pierre into the subtle signs of his anxiety: the silvery gaze that continually scanned the room, the tightness of his jaw as he spoke lowly in a language that no one but Pierre could understand, the closeness with which he held Rachel after Pierre's greeting of her. Pierre watched and listened as his sire explained what had happened and what would happen on his end, nodding and responding shortly when was necessary.

When he had first received the call that Laurent was back, a quick panic settled coldly over his gut and he couldn't move. Instinctively, his touched his newly-healed stomach and sat to listen to the things he needed to do. Thankfully, Nadia hadn't been around to watch him - a lump formed in the back of his throat and the hairs on his arms prickled at the thought that he might actually see Laurent again. A stupid reaction - of course they would see the demon again one day. The clenching in his gut didn't stop as he stood and dressed himself in jeans and black sweater, lingering with him over the car ride and even while he ordered a drink at the White Rabbit, dutifully trying to get a hold of himself before Damien and Rachel arrived. He couldn't remember feeling such a thing in his life, but then again, he had never come so close to a permanent death as he had that night with Laurent.

The idea that he would see him tonight shook him and kept him on the edge of his seat while he watched Rachel and Damien. How long had it been since the demon had surfaced? And now he was making bold attempts to show himself in public, regardless of Rachel's escort with a District Leader? And potentially kidnapping Jake's fledge? He knew Laurent was bold, but this was straight suicidal. Was he getting desperate now that Damien had showed himself as Jake's campaign manager? Or was this all some elaborate trap to find and enslave Rachel again.

He looked at her briefly as Damien explained and wondered why she was worth so much to the demon, knowing only vague details of her history with him, never wanting to inquire more.

---

When he wasn't acknowledged, he knew something was deeply wrong. His thoughts raced over all the things that were part of her new life in the city, something he hadn't been fully included into yet. He recalled the conversation about the abuse and the demon responsible for it, but also noticed the tightness of Damien's hold on her as he spoke to the eye-candy at the bar. Something about the situation made him extremely uncomfortable.

Without thinking about the effect that it would have upon her, Quinn reached out and touched his best friend, saying her name at the same time. His contact with her elicited a jump that instantly made him feel guilty. As punishment, Damien's steely gaze twisted and fell upon him and Quinn knew that he had fucked up royally, though he was still unsure how. He tried not to shrivel beneath that intense look, knowing that it was very possible that Damien was the cause of the discomfort in the room.

"Hey," he said softly, moving his hand up to her shoulder and securing it there so she knew he was there. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"

"Who is this?" The customer at the bar demanded of Damien with a nod in Quinn's direction. Had he been any uglier, Quinn would have been offended enough to lash out at him. Instead those blue eyes kept him right where he was, the words sticking in his throat.

"This is Quinn Patenaude, Rachel's best friend from... before." Damien's eyes never left Quinn as he answered the other vampire's question. Funny, he didn't remember offering Damien his last name when that had formally met.

The other vampire nodded and extended a hand in his direction. "Nice to meet you, Quinn." There was a touch of genuity in his tone, a calming lean on an accent that spun the sexy thoughts in Quinn's head without his consent. "I'm Pierre, Damien's first fledge."

He blinked at the pair of vampires and shook the proffered hand in greeting rather quickly, dazedly. What the hell was happening here? He was genuinely afraid of the answer.