Adel/Shaw

Bradshaw
A picture perfect evening amid the comforts of a campfire far beyond the grasp of the Empire. Surrounded by the dilapidated ruins of an old fort or perhaps it was a castle. Often Bradshaw in his youthful exuberance of sneaking out of the grasp of his caretaker, would visit these very ruins and enjoy an evening unfettered by the world around him, he could often hear the whispers of past lives ruminating through the stone walls that were once in his mind massive echoing halls like those in the Castle. Yet that they were old, and open to the night sky seemed so perfect to him that he couldn't ignore spending those long hours staring off into space. But what perfect evening could exist without the tragic ruination of an outside source turning it from blissful silence into complete and utter crap? Bradshaw Black, and Alice Caderyn had been selected for a very important task. Given to them by his highness Cael Caderyn himself! Of course it was bitchwork. Head North, and seek out ingredients for one of the Archmages many experiments, or maybe it was for more. Eitherway, the idea of wasting time romping in the forest for mushrooms, would normally have excited him if Cael had not demanded he take Alice along in order to 'achieve' a better rapport with her. They'd Rapport alright! A tension that snapped and bit like a whip when left uncontrolled, and where his bitterness in having been forced to drag her along with him on a simple errand existed, there was a hint of pleasure in it. Alice, was for lack of a better word a royal bitch, and she annoyed him to no ends with the constant nagging. But the sound of her voice was dulcet and beautiful. The scent of her perfume was heaven to his wolf influenced supernatural senses, and she was brilliantly radiant in her existence. She was the aurora on a full moon, a reason to write sonnets, and sing poetry. Yet for all those beautiful thoughts and desires Bradshaw could only prickle and peck at her. Like a child on the playground. The Evening had brought forth an unnatural chill to the world, and Bradshaw had despite Adelaide's protests chose to hunker down for the evening, Which had inadvertently led him to take her to one of his favorite places. A spot that harbored the remnants of catacombs that come morning light she could hide within and remain safe, and sound from the suns cruelty. Bradshaw thusly decided that traveling with a vampire and no carriage was entirely inconvenient, and that if they would be forced to do such errands he would request a carriage. " It is another three days to Sovereign City " he spoke, cutting the thick silence that had developed between them with pointless facts. " If we travel the main roads, there should be plenty of Inn's for you to take refuge in " He absently brought a strip of dried meat from his satchel and tossed it into boiling pot of water collected from a nearby stream. " Or you can stay here, and I'll return from you by the evening with Cael's Parcel "

Adelaide
:Ѻ:Using a pair of dextrous hands, the ophidian femme pulled her hair to one side of her cheek, curling the ends around a slender digit as she skirted the outside of the campfire, well out of the reach of stray embers and popping knots. It was tied in a high ponytail, drawn back off of her face to keep clear of her sight (and focus, but apparently, that wasn't working.) She inspected the freshly washed tresses' ends as if she had nothing better to do. You know, other than consider the way Bradshaw held himself while out prowling around old stomping grounds. Granted, it was like a small boy with a wooden sword. Or a cub daring big bad wolves to come out. But still, his cander and tenor had shifted while on the task. Power and courage played at the lines of his shoulders, pushed back to expose a heft of toned muscle. His wide stance, while borderline cocky, was one of dominance and strength. He knew where they were, so presumably she didn't have to. Which would have gone a long way-- if she trusted him. Cael did, though, so that would have to do. He wasn't a complete idiot, she could admit. He'd chosen a fair spot to rest for the evening (though far too early, by her standards.) The catacombs would be light-tight, which would come in handy at day-break. Along the way, the pair had bickered to a point that had her downright irate. Did he really need to tell her every fucking time there was a rut in their path? She wasn't blind. It was insulting. The vespertine was thankful to have fed prior to leaving the Estate-- she'd need it if she was going to put up with his constant pestering. Her rational, completely acceptable response to his pygalgia? Be an absolute, raging bitch. Okay, maybe that was exaggerated. But like a meal which the spice builds until your tolerance yeilds and cries out for relief, so was her method. Of course, it was all to get a rise out of him. (Not that she was self aware to realize that's what she was doing.) Because he was even more endearing when he was red in the face with the Sisyphean effort of quelling her bitch craft. At present, he seemed entirely content with the setting. Cue: Alice. "Oh, excellent. You just go take care of everything and I'll hang out here with the rest of the corpses." she retorted, "I'm sure that's -exactly- what Cael had in mind." Her tone dripped in acerbic sarcasm, pesky right brow piquing over lambent hues to punctuate her tenor. She hovered behind him, as he provided a decent cover from the heat of the flames, which were god damn luciferous. But his profile was nice, cast in silhouette against the orange backdrop. Whoops, better be an unrelenting viper. "If you go alone, I seriously doubt it'll be done right, anyway." she added, dropping the ends of her ponytail with the light flick of her toe to kick a pebble at the back of his neck. :Ѻ:

Bradshaw
" And what do you think you can provide to the situation? " He lifted his brow curiously toward the woman near cowering from the flames at his back " It's fairly simple, go to said place at said time and pick up said parcel and return it to Immortalis " He shifted some letting the light of the flames illuminate her features, and briefly he admired them before turning his admiration to what resembled a feigned disgust " I'm sure Cael expected you to be of some use to which point you've NOT been since we left Immortalis " He absently lifted his shoulders " So if you'd be so kind as to shut up for a few moments, maybe I can at the very least enjoy the sounds of the forest for a bit " He lifted his hand and absently waved her off. But truthfully, he didn't mind the tenor of her voice which to his ears was a wonderful near diaphanous silk that caressed his ears and brought forth feelings of comfort and contentment. " And I'd agree with your statement but you're too loud to be a corpse. " He snorted some " Damned Banshee " He turned to toss more wood into the fire adding absently " Besides, I've made this trip before, we'll need to travel as much as we're able tomorrow to even reach the midway point in Neith " Then with a stick he stirred the meat in the pot and added a few bits of potato and the likes to ensure it turned into a proper strew. " Have you been to Neith? " He glanced over his shoulder briefly before glancing back to the flames " The Duchess is the owner of a shop in Immortalis called the Mithril Starling " he absently tossed a wrapped parcel over his shoulder. " This is for your dress " he said absently " It wouldn't do my honor to replace something I ruined with familial connections. So I hope this will tide you over until my father has the time to do your measurements " With that he stood, to give the strew time to finish cooking and moved away from the flames, pulling his cloak over his form and giving a slight shiver. allowing himself to distance from the woman, and the vexing emotions she pulled from within him to look into the woods from what used to be a window. ~ Amid the woods, within the shadows did something turn its attentions towards the illuminated halls of a dilapidated castle. Within, there was a scent that was more inviting then the warmth of the flames, or the stew cooking over the fire. It was a sirens call, that reached out with claws to ensnare ignorant masses half starved and desiring of something tangible to sink their fangs into. Like a swarm of insects they began to gather in the wood. Guided by the allure of the un-dead curse. They skittered slowly toward this place of refuge and rest.

Adelaide
:Ѻ: "Finesse." she said, eyes flitting from her hand to his features, brow still piqued as she smirked over her knuckles as the light dawned on her face. "Ugh, why? Fuck." and just as quickly as he turned to gaze upon those effulgent eyes, her mouth and brow contorted, eyes closing as she launched into a colorful verbal assault. "As if staring into the fire alone wasn't torture enough, don't make that face at me." she added onerously. He meant to add insult to injury by counting her as useless, but it humored her to let him think she was just some vacuous fawning parasite obsessed with dresses and hair. Her appointment to the Lunar Chevalier title was, she was sure, some kind of mystery to Shaw. One which she indulgently allowed him to think was placed simply for familial preference. She curtsied with overtly feminine mannerism, emphasizing her copacetic thoughts on the matter of her usefulness. "I'm just here to keep you company." she added lightly, "Or maybe I'm here to keep track of your progress." she continued, tenor shifting masterfully into practiced farce. She was lying, of course, but the thought would get under his skin. Drop like a tiny bomb in his head, and wait hours before exploding into manly, competitive rage. She had no experience in the field at all, as far as Bradshaw was concerned. And was entirely inept, to boot. "-One- of us has to be socially charmed, after all. We can't have your gauche self dropping into a fine establishment and making a mess out of the place." she concluded, holding her hands up as he waved dismissively, lips tugging into an impish grin. She waited for a long time before responding to his question about Neith until he looked back at her for a response. "Oh, sorry, I was practicing being more quiet so I can fit in with my brethren later." she nodded off toward the catacombs with a humored smirk. "No, I've never been to Neith." she answered, finally. When he looked back at the flames and spoke, he did so while tossing something over his shoulder. "Ah, uh--" she caught it with ease in the limited light, features briefly surprised. "Oh." she replied, less acid, and a bit more soft. Her fingers plucked at the parcel to reveal the necklace hiding within. He removed himself from the fire and she tilted the parcel toward the light to survey it, absently smiling to herself as it glinted in the light. "Your taste isn't so bad." she said, clearing her thoughts as she held out the box toward him. "Give me a hand?" she asked, free hand pulling her hair to one side of her neck. But he was distracted, and soon, so was she. "Shit." she hissed, knowing the scent and sounds of her kind when she heard them. "Bradshaw, we have company." Her voice had lost its charm, no longer playful or toying with him. The vespertine's composure shifted defensively, shoulders hunching as her lips parted to expose those tiny fangs of hers. They were outnumbered, as far as she could tell. And their company was hungry. The smell of decay rolled off of them, but it carried a putrid, spoiled scent that she'd never encountered. Suffice to say, they weren't vegetarians.:Ѻ:

Bradshaw
Hours, had gone into finding something that would suit that dainty neck. He'd a father who was a tailor and thus he did have SOME knowledge of what suited a woman and where. There were times as a pup that he'd provided his father assistance on picking out clothing or fabrics suitable to young woman. But the necklace was also in some fashion akin to what you'd expect of getting from a dog. A Beautifully carved ivory moon, encased in Mithril hanging from a thin and strong chain. He didn't remark to her quip about taste, both of them now entirely aware of the skittering death that was coming toward them. Bradshaw's first indication had come with the scent of peculiar rotting. Not like a corpse that was ages old, but fresh and bloody. Then it was the sound, that sickly sound of flesh moving in ways it should not move. The droplets of blood and saliva that hit the stone beyond the edge of their sanctuary. " Smells of death " He said honestly as his hand moved for the thin and sharp rapier at his hip. Bradshaw unlike Cael had a talent for the more refined and practiced movements of the rapier, while it was bladed and could cut through flesh. the sword was limber enough to pass around bone by bending just slightly and pierce vitals. A talent for accuracy that worked in short as well as it did from a far. But the malice that came toward them any beasty could recognize. It was hungry, it was voracious, and it didn't seem too keen on talking nice and joining them for stew. Bradshaw's first instinct was to kick over the pot of water, lowering the light around them to a dull orange glow, and then to withdraw his rapier and dagger in a single fluid motion. Instinct taking over and putting the hell hound between the entry to their ruined room, and Adelaide. No doubt she could see the near physical shifting of his body. Muscles tensing under the wool tunic he'd been wearing. The way his hair seemed to stand on end, and the bearing of canines, like...well the canine he was. A vicious growl rumbling from deep in his chest outward. Bradshaw, was young yet, and while a competent combatant. He had not developed a 'sense' for the flow of conflict like others before him. Yet what he lacked in being able to read, he made up for in his ability to react. However he was not prepared for the 'flood' that was about to begin in the most horridly biblical proportions. ~ The smell of life was sweet and glorious, it called to them, and they would answer it without hesitation. But like any pack they were intelligent enough to send a scout forth. Better to lose one life, then all the others. Thus the weakest of them would be sent forward. A small, fragile being with flesh gaunt and stretched over its bones. A Vampire starved became like a zombie in many ways, their skin ashen, eyes empty and soulless, their only desire to wrend the flesh and drink the blood, and that was exactly what crawled through the dimly let entry of their preys refuge.  a creature with a thin limbs, a stomach inflated by lack of nourishment, with nails elongated to claws, made sharp by clawing through the dirt and grime. It's filth covered hand grasping the edge of the door as it forced it's way through and leapt at the warm body before it without hesitation or care for its life.~ A single moment, and Bradshaw was in action, the grotesquely thin body before him flexed and so did Shaw, with the whip of his blade, and extension of his arm he drove the point of his blade through the mouth and out the other side of the skull, before the weight forced the blade to the ground, and his boot kicked it free. Giving just enough time for the flood of crazed un dead their opportunity to haphazardly force their way through the slim opening of the door, and windows around them. Bodies piling upon bodies clawing one another with a single focus in mind. Blood, and more blood. Shaw could not account for Adelaide, but she was no doubt not without her own defenses, but that did not stop the Hell hound from drawing back a step and bringing other hand back to ensure he created a barrier between her and any clawed hands, or jagged broken sticks and worn blades that might have crossed paths. He parried, stabbed, and struck out as often and as swiftly a he could. But against an army, one would only hurt so many before something would find home, and it was Bradshaw's shoulder, that would become the fleshy sheath for a jagged rusty broken sword. He snarled, and if human voices could bark he became that much more vicious. Like a dog, striking out at what hurt it he began to push against the horse stabbing, grabbing throwing and forgetting any kind of finesse he might have been taught in order to hurt them more then he had been hurt. But that tactic only served to ruin a tunic, create cuts on skin, and make him that much more appealing to the hungry mass before them. In a single moment of clarity he called to Adelaide. " The Catacombs. I'll hold them off, save yourself "

Adelaide
:Ѻ: The small parcel was tucked away beneath the deep-cut collar of her shirt. It was a fitted material that left little to the imagination, and at present, one could see the parcel tucked securely against her breast. "It -is- death." she answered him shortly, though the comment was aimed to remind him of his own mortality. Among the freshly dead, she would be a welcome guest. A hell hound? Not as much. As he stepped in front of her, she shook her head and mumbled. "You reckless idiot." As the light from their fire died, steam drove into the sky overhead. Water sizzled in the coils. Which, if hadn't been put out, might have proved an effective weapon against. fucking. vampires. She didn't have time to navigate the mental gymnastics required to understand animal instinct, the hoard crawled closer by the second. Ironically, Bradshaw was convinced she needed protection when he was the prime motivation for the hungry un-dead. They were all driven by bloodlust, with no real structure other than 'strength in numbers', so there was no parley to be had. Bradshaw dove in, rapier first. While he meant well, it was only a matter of time before he'd be swallowed by a swarm of lifeless, gaunt bodies. She didn't need to do anything, actually. And if he hadn't just went balls-deep into them, she'd have been able to negotiate far less bloody terms. After all, the only blood needed to convince them was hers. "Damn it." she breathed as she watched his muscles broil under his clothing, hair raising manically with the anticipation of violence. Bodies crawled through windows and bled through the small door of the collapsed fort. As Bradshaw went into harvest-mode, she walked toward him, untouched by the crazed hungry crepusculars. Was she afraid? Fuck yes. But not for her own well being, but his. While she was one among hundreds (it seemed), she was also the strongest by one standard alone-- she was older. Accounting for a full stomach, she had somewhat of a distinct edge and she hoped--persuasive gait. As she approached Bradshaw from the back, she reached out and tore the vampire at his back off of him, baring her fangs as she did. With a hideously un-ladylike, guttural growl, she turned to face the other vampire with wide, angry eyes. Once his back was clear and the opposing vampire cowered backward, she turned to grasp the hell hound around his shoulders. With a swift, strong pull, she pulled him down so that he leaned into her chest. With his rapier still going, she internally begged him not to assume she was one of them and offer an instinctual stab. It would be hard to discern her from the others with his senses overwhelmed. Don't be an idiot. Don't be an idiot, she chanted internally as she stepped backward with him to drag him along with her. She snarled at those surrounding them, hating the sounds she made as she made them. It was fucking barbaric. She whispered against his neck as she moved, staging alpha mannerisms as they went. It gave them a small space of time, but not much. "Cut my hand with your blade and don't ask questions." she insisted, eyes darkly staring down approaching leeches. When she spoke, there was a sharp insistence to her tenor. The vespertine held one hand out in front of Bradshaw's face while holding him by the shoulders with the other. Once cut, she wouldn't waver before pressing her palm to the side of his face and dragging it down his temple, jaw, and neck. "See this?" she yelled over the low moaning and susurrant growling of the other vampires. "He's mine." she added with acid, daring them to challenge her claim. With dark, dead blood dripping off of her palm, she waited with bated breath.:Ѻ:

Bradshaw
There was, and likely would be no way out of the situation that didn't end with bloodshed. Adelaide was not wrong, that perhaps at a time this action of hers, in slitting her hand open and slathering her blood across the Hell hound would have stopped the horde from attacking, and in honesty they were weak from lack of blood, their bodies gave easily, and their minds did not grasp the concept of combat, but rather feed and feed. Thus they were not particularly challenging opponents, their strength was numbers, and Adelaide and Bradshaw's was their ability to fight with reason. (Mind you Brad's reason was becoming more muddled by the moment. Made worse by the blood smeared on his face.) But nonetheless Bradshaw compiled for the moment, and it did offer a momentary reprieve as the vampires seemed to anticipate Adelaide's right to first bite. But soon their need for blood, and desire for Bradshaw's life overrode the pack social mentality. Which left them with little to no options. " Adelaide " Shaw's voice was strained with both pain and effort. " Tell Cael, I'm sorry I couldn't make it back, and tell my family I didn't go down easy. " It hit him, that Adelaide could leave unscathed, she was un-dead, they wouldn't bother attacking her, unless she got in the way. Which at this point she seemed keen to do so. His choice was easy, he after all was a Chevalier, meant to live and die by the Knights code. (And what a time to get Knightly) Thus he brought his free arm around the tiny waist of the Vampiress, and in a moment of desperation (Believing entirely that he was done for) He turned himself toward her, and brought his chest to her own, and brought his lips down firmly against her own. After all if he was going to die, it would not be without at least experiencing what it 'could' have been like to kiss Adelaide. He'd never openly admit that it had been somewhat of a fantasy of his since their first meeting. When he finished and that 'moment' of reprieve ended. He brought his blade forward releasing Adelaide's thin form and made to throw himself into the oncoming collection of frenzied vampires.

Adelaide
:Ѻ: Bradshaw's heart hammered inside of his chest, and it was like a siren's call to the agitated, feral crowd. The pause was brief, and in that shining moment of hope, Adelaide (falsely) felt pride. Damn, was that all it took to establish dominance? The pair realized that it wasn't going to work as they watched a rift in the crowd of unknowns develop. Anticipating his death, Bradshaw began writing his own damn eulogy. "Stop being such a drama qu--" and before she knew it, he was kissing her. Oh. -Oh.- Well, that was...unexpected. And lovely. Given just about any other timing, she might have strangled him for forcing himself onto her. It was recourse for just about anyone to take anything (a small kiss included) without consent. But this was no small kiss, and it was also not the best timing. Her head was swimming with thoughts that were entirely inconvenient, but her body seemed to respond just fine. Her hands framed his cheeks, blood thick between his skin and her palms. Her hips shifted toward him, nesting in between the prominent landmarks of his frame comfortably as full lips closed on one of his while he clutched her by the waist. And then he was gone. She was left standing in the midst of conflicted, confused feral vampires as he danced merrily to his death wearing an imaginary white cape. Without warning, Adelaide reached out and punched one of the stray feral vampires square in the face. Unapologetic, she massaged her closed fist before glaring at those left staring at her like docile puppies. "Get fucked." she growled. She didn't want any of them. A lady had no reason to run a coven like something out of a horribly racist folktale. And they scattered. Thankfully, not in Shaw's direction. Ten or so less, had to count for something. Realizing that her need to blow off steam was greatly outweighed by the time pressing in around Bradshaw, she followed him into the crowd like an angry bull. Grabbing, clawing (ah, finally a reason for those pristine manicured talons of hers,) and tearing as she fought through the crowd of ravenous fiends, she wasn't letting him off the hook so easily. He had years (years!) of torture left to experience by her hand. Carving a pathway of vivisected vampires as she went, it took her far too long to get to him. As she finally closed in on where he fought, she grasped the jaw of one of his pursuants and tore it clean off with a bit of leverage and an angry snarl. Alice was covered in dark blood, pretty features painted in a macabre smattering. Her clothing was stuck to her where it pulled tightest, and her nails were caked with rotting flesh. Bradshaw was bleeding. His clothes were torn and he wasn't going to make it out without help. She grabbed his arm and yanked him back toward her, down the path of the dead that the rest of them wouldn't touch. "If you can shift, do it now." she said, though she wouldn't make eye contact. She was busy staring down every tool that tried to cross her. "The smell of you as a canine will make the fight less appealing." she said, as blase as she could manage while baring her fangs at an oncoming male twice her size. "Run for the catacombs, I'll follow." she assured him, tagging on "I'm not going in until you do." She wasn't really asking. She was dragging him as he continued to fend them off from the sides. It was slow, but it was progress. Their hesitation to attack Alice was waning, and she wasn't going to let the gap close before she assured he wasn't going to die. :Ѻ:

Bradshaw
Bradshaw had a revelation amid the strife, one that perhaps was a bit late in coming but it was one that struck hard at the core of him. He was enjoying himself. Each thrust of the rapier, each torn limb, every slice of flesh that hit the ground in sickening clumps. Blood and gore covered his form, causing that white woolen tunic to stick to his form and forever stain it red with the memory of this moment. He had handed himself over to the resignation of death, and reviled in it like a hedonistic sycophant. But perhaps it wasn't the combat so much as the fact that in that moment of 'risky affection.' Shaw had yet to realize that she had done exactly what he hadn't expected. Oh how he enjoyed the taste upon his lips, untouched by the blood and gore. That cold remaining pressed upon him as teeth gnashed into the flesh of an un-dead and tore its throat out without reservation. But he could feel the fatigue of his wounds, and the slow dripping of blood from those oozing wounds It would end soon, he could feel them gathering around him, and he was contented to go out like a hero. At least he felt that way. But the impending doom never came, those behind him had seemingly disappeared, and those before him for the moment were contemplating their fates it seemed. But at the joining of the woman beside him, and the demand for him to shift he snorted some. " It's impossible right now " Which it was, shifting for him was entirely more painful then the wounds on his body, but added blood loss to shifting and snapping bones didn't make for a intelligent time for him to shift his form from human to hell hound. So he searched, used his head for something more than just crushing the skulls of un-dead. Seeing a support shift as bodies hit a near by wall. He took aim with the next kick and kicked a vampire directly into the shifting beam. The creaking, soon brought part of the roof down upon the collective mass before them. " There We go together " He snatched  at her wrist and made to lead her down into the darkness of the catacombs, his body so near to collapsing held afloat only by his adrenaline. Beyond them the walls continued to crumble, bringing stone after stone upon the earth and marble floor until all that remained was a pile of rubble. rubble that cascaded like a deadly waterfall into the depths of the catacombs scathingly close to the pair of blood soaked Chevalier. ~Amid the ranks of the hoard of hungry un-dead was one just intelligent enough to halt the flood as the buildings collapsed. Their prey, gone, and their hopes dashed they swarmed the bodies of the fallen hoping for remnants of a meal. Before their path lead them southeast toward the pulsing veins of Immortalis.

Adelaide
:Ѻ: Of course, what the hell did she know about shape shifting? About as much as vampirical politics (which was slim to none.) Having counted on that as a method of extraction, she was brought up a bit short. But! Not to worry, the masochistic wonder was at it again. As Bradshaw punted one of the feral vampires into a supporting beam, Adelaide could have killed him -for- them. "What are you doing?" she hissed, as the structure overhead groaned. The remains of the roof overhead started to buckle, and Bradshaw grabbed her by the wrist to usher her out of the way and into a tunnel. She ran, eventually pulling ahead of him for lengthy strides. Not needing to breathe and having not been wounded had its advantages. Which... Bradshaw was not enjoying. The rubble was boiling at their heels as they ran. Adelaide slowed to Bradshaw's pace to pull his arm over her shoulders and bear his weight until they didn't need to run any longer. Left in the cimmerian catacombs, Adelaide's foot falls came to a pause. Soot filled the air around them. While temporarily blinded by it, she stood in place, holding her breath to listen for any tag-alongs. She could hear Bradshaw's labored breathing, and in the tight-closed space, the smell of his blood running freely was overwhelming. His heart was thunderous in the dead quiet of their temporary apartment, surrounded by ancestors. "Bradshaw?" she asked in the darkness once she was sure they were alone. Cool hands surveying the landscape of broken flesh and blood-stained linen. Nearby, the sound of dripping water signaled a possible exit. The vespertine shifted her weight to move him against the wall, lithe frame surprisingly firm underneath his weight. "Sit." she said sternly, though not exactly meaning to speak to him like a dog. Without warning, if he fought her, a little ballet kick met the backs of his knees with enough pressure to knock his balance off. With one hand to his chest, and the other to his back, she'd guide him to a seat and kneel beside him in the darkness. Adelaide didn't hesitate to start groping at him in the dark. Cool fingertips scanned the surface of his skin, sussing out gashes and bites as she went. Concern contorted her features, and she was thankful for the darkness. "You're an idiot, you know that?" she asked after a long silence, despite any complaints or groans on his behalf. Tension was audible in her tenor, though its source wasn't easily discerned. A pause followed while she peeled fabric back off of his wounds in scraps, trying to collect any of the material from them to prevent infection. "You're going to need a healer." she said quietly, realizing that getting anywhere quickly was going to be a problem, and daylight would come before she could reach town. "Or." she said before breathing in hesitantly. "Or I can help." she said with resignation. "But there are consequences to that. Do you know them already?" she asked, brow quirking in the darkness. She had to assume from years in Cael's service, that he had -some- knowledge of how things worked. :Ѻ:

Bradshaw
For Bradshaw, who needed to breath, and was doing so in labored breaths. The dust was likely the most destructive thing to him. By the time they arrived at their halt, he was coughing and her command to sit, and ensuing forcing him to do so showed a great bit of weakness in the Canine as she could have toppled him with a fingertip push to the chest. But he was toppled and hit the ground with a grunt and long moments of silence as the darkness became darker in a sense. HE was not superhuman by any length of the world. Endurance, yes, faster sure, but his strength and healing were exactly what one would expect from a human. Perhaps given more training, and more time to discover himself he might learn how to mitigate these weaknesses. But for now, he was content to just lay there with the cool earth on his back. The sound of shredding cloth and fabric had him reaching up to stop her, capturing her wrists in a lucky swipe of his hands. "Don't...I've already ruined one dress" yes he was blissfully ignorant of the scraps of cloth she was tearing away from HIS body, too much pain to be able to tell the difference. But like a dumb dog he took it and soon his hands fell away from her wrists. To rest at either side of him. " Heh, did you see their fucking faces when I brought the roof down on them " He said between gasping breaths, trying to catch even just one like a frantic dog chasing his tail only to realize it would never be fully caught. " They won't soon forget the name of Bradshaw Black! " Then silence " I forgot to fucking tell them my name " He chuckled some and closed his eyes now finally finding some comfort. " Cael's going to be upset " he said after a few moments " I let them wound me...A lot " Truthfully Cael would be upset, and concerned for his godson whom truthfully was more or less his own sun as he'd practically raised Bradshaw from his earliest years. Thus when she asked her question he let his eyes focus in on her shape for a moment then upward " Yeah, 'cording to Cael, Vampire blood can heal wounds, but unless your dead, or you kill the vampire you drank from swiftly. It can fuck you up " Which was of course his way of basically saying he got the just. " Granted, I can't move to well right now, so I doubt I'm going to be able to find a healer, and the sun's coming up so doubtful I'll get healing anytime soon " He closed his eyes slowly and released a small whine as he tried to move himself to a sitting position his fingers moving upward to feel the blood running from a wound on his face. " What you're getting at is, Drink or Die " He said with his own resignation. " I ain't dead, so don't you go turning me into a vampire you get me? " he glanced in her direction. " But I'm not...I'm not ready to die either.."

Adelaide
:Ѻ: "...lucky for you, I'm not wearing a dress." she retorted, voice reverberating in the cool cavern. She let him hold her wrists still for a moment, sighing audibly before he released his grip. She went back to clearing his torso of the remnants of his tunic as he prattled on about his winning strike, shaking her head as he concluded with the regret of not having given them his name. After laughing and settling down a bit, he was quiet for a minute. She'd moved to his legs, inspecting the wounds there. As was her pace, she wasn't concerned with chastity as she felt around, mind primarily on feeling for broken bones or significant open wounds. "Cael's going to be fine." she replied in the pause, "He'll just be glad we're not dead. Again." she said, quietly as her fingers skimmed his inner thighs and ran the length of his legs to his knees. She didn't linger or mess around. Adelaide was focused on his well being, not what was in the shreds of his pants. She listened when he rattled off the list of facts and side effects of vampire blood, nodding as she finished feeling out the length of his legs. She was pleased that nothing was broken, given that she'd never tried to heal anyone before and wasn't sure how potent the blood would actually be. "That's exactly what I'm getting at." she said, leaning back onto her folded legs. "I would never." she said, insult apparent in her tone. "Ever force this life on you." she added. He'd struck something deep in her, and she had snapped a bit in response, offering her first vulnerability up to him. "Listen, there's another side effect. It doesn't always affect people, but it's pretty common with me." she cleared her throat and ran her hand back through blood-dampened hair. "It's this weird thing that will happen when you sleep. You'll have a few vivid dreams. Just disregard them, they're not real." she added. "And if you don't have any... great. Even better." she internally hoped he'd be one of the lucky resistant few to the effects of her charm. (A rare hope, in her case.) "Don't get funny on me. I'm letting you do this because I'm certain Cael would be disappointed with me if I let you die. And seeing as I just found him again, I'm not eager to earn a spot in the doghouse." she said woodenly. (It would be obvious she didn't mean it, and was fighting any inclination to be affectionate.) After the sound of shifting, she'd end up beside him. Her hair was pulled to one side, figuring he'd take the same approach anyone else did, by default. "I can bite myself for you, or you can do it yourself. I don't care." she said, tilting her head so that her chin inclined regally. The vespertine was quiet, then. One cool hand slipped to his neck, finding its way to cradle his jaw encouragingly. :Ѻ:

Bradshaw