Closed [Tarsin's] Dr. Hyena Might Have Met His Match (Alisdair)

[Dye]

5 Fall, 512 AV Stalking through the Docks was never an issue. I just need to find a place where I can stay without having to act like a complete whore... It got tiring, having to use her femininity and her... Assets to get good rates at the little chapterhouses dotting the city. But there was always word of a different spot, a place with better rates that would cost her little but give her the amenities needed. Today's venture was to Tarsin's. The vulture already had a room for the night, which had cost her a whole gold miza for the barest of amenities. But Dye had heard about Tarsin's Boarding House, an inn popular among foreigners and travelers, that was one of the best deals in Ravok - or so she had heard. It was always smart to scope out a boarding house; the Kelvic had found herself surprised more than once by an inn being much less... Clean than originally expected. Her stroll took her through tiny walkways beside canals, weaving and turning multiple times until, finally, she caught sight of the very place she had been looking for. Dye smiled, pulling her lengthy ebony-and-gold hair over one shoulder as her dress slipped down ever so slightly, attempting to make herself looks sultry and inviting before walking into the inn. Always good to be prepared... The lobby was quite spacious, considering the dank chapterhouses she had experienced some nights and the even more dreary drugdens she experienced others. Few things caught her eye, but Dye distinctly noticed tapestries of lake scenes, the lake surrounding them now. Swiftly stepping to one, she inspected it curiously before turning and surveying the customers of the Boarding House. Now what is this place like, hmmm?

[Alisdair McKennan]

Ahh, the fresh scent of night at the docks. From his cramped, spartan room at Tarsin’s, Alasdair could smell the fragrance of rotting fish and overripe apples not long for this world through the open window overlooking the sea. He thought to close it, but figured why bother? He would sleep in his pelt tonight. It was time to attend to more important matters than watching late night travelers get ripped off with rotted fruit. Mainly, the matter of finding himself a proper drink. None of that weak, watered wine that the other wench had served him at the bar down the street just a few days ago. He was going to go out and acquire a proper spot of absinthe to calm his nerves. Otherwise he feared he may go mad and tear some toddler’s throat out, and he was not one for patching up humans. He shrugged on his coat and gloves and walked down the narrow, creaky stairwell that led to the lobby, where there were a few patrons milling about. The usual crowd, they were sitting at tables playing poker, drinking, and talking. There was one odd couple in the dark back corner that seemed to be having a heated argument. Not his problem. He stalked into the room with languid elegance, shoulders hunched as if circling prey. Most chatter grew quiet when he entered a room here. Alisdair liked that. Tonight though, there was a change in the clientele. While most of the customers at this place would turn their gaze from his hollow cheeks and hungry yellow eyes, there she was, simply looking curiously around her, sizing everything up as if determining which of these soft, sweaty animals was good enough to eat. Forget the absinthe. At once he noticed the very long dip in the front of her dress, the tangle of silky ebony-gold hair cascading down one side of a lovely throat that just begged to be nibbled, and the piercing blue eyes of a predator behind long, thick red lashes. In all honestly, it was mostly her very appealing breasts that caught him, but then his eyes roved further, taking in her figure, the tattoo spread across her sternum, her creamy skin, the very tension of her body like a dirty-minded bowstring...he would swear that his sudden befuddlement was from lack of alcohol, but in truth what little blood the doctor had in him could not be further from his brain. As of right now, Alasdair’s only thought was conquest. His face twisted into a grim smile, and he continued stealthily across the room to where this temptress was assessing a lake tapestry. He knew that look she was giving the customers seconds before. With that in mind he leaned against the wall next to her and crossed his arms. “Find anything interesting, sweetling?” he purred lecherously. "Have you ever looked a cute, fluffy bunny directly in the eye, right before you snap its little neck? Priceless."

[Dye]

The city, so wondrous, so divine, laying directly in the shadow of the god Rhysol. Just as she loved it. The tapestry showed a scene of the city from the East, Syna's glow fading away into the reds, oranges, and deep infrareds of sunset in the West. These colours clashed with the pure, unwavering aquamarine of the water itself. Shadows blanketed Ravok's cityscape, but a dazzling spark of bright light emanated from the centre of the marvellous city. The Temple of the Black Sun shone as a beacon of hope for the Ravokians - Rhysol's protection reigned supreme, and it was evident in the symbolism that the creator saw this city as the most prominent of blessings. Dye knew the city's true colours. Knew the slavery and the intoxicants and the whores. The vulture loved the city all the more for it; there was always new prey, always unfortunate or foolish men to feed from. The gold in their pockets, almost as good as the marrow in their bones, both supplying the woman with the sustenance she needs. I shall feed well, Lord Rhysol, hmm? Her mind rang with pleasure, the sound of her own thoughts and prayers to the god almost as fulfilling as the feeling of flesh rent and torn, bones cracking in her beak and talons. A voice slid from the air behind her, near-startling. Only a predator could be so stealthy, only one stronger and near-silent could have crept behind the Kelvic as if she were totally unaware. Well, she was unaware. Careless, Vagik... she cursed herself, turning hastily and flexing the muscles of her hands, preparing to defend herself. Her nails were useful for more than looks, and Dye knew they hurt so badly from the screams of some of her victims... Eyes piercing, the vulture inspected the man before her warily. She took in the mess of hair atop his head, his lean physique coiled to pounce, and locked her gaze on those unnerving eyes of his. They shone a yellow unlike any she had seen before, carrying tinges of browns and greens and colours she had not even been able to describe... Yet they still spoke volumes of this man. "Interesting? Only a man who's snuck up on me, eyes betraying his nature plainly yet he still stalks about." Conveying wariness, ferocity and curiosity, her voice was still sultry and unwavering as she addressed the man. "And who are you, hmm?"

[Alisdair McKennan]

Alisdair raised an eyebrow at the quick whirl around and the fierce display of long nails, nearly talons, that the woman exhibited for him. He enjoyed scaring people, especially the ladies. Something about a single gasp of panic or a shocked little jump, or a tremble. This one seemed remarkably calm however, and surely had been close to clawing his lovely face off if there hadn’t been witnesses to the act. While the thought should have been threatening, he found it rather inviting. What an amusing change of pace to talk to an independent and beautiful girl such as this. "Interesting? Only a man who's snuck up on me, eyes betraying his nature plainly yet he still stalks about." A smart one too, it seemed. Alisdair chuckled quietly at the elegant response and moved so his back was to the wall. “Hm, tricky tricky. I do enjoy a good stalk once in a while,” he said, bored gaze traversing the patrons and, finding nothing of great value, returning to gaze unblinkingly at her as a predator stares down its prey. "And who are you, hmm?" He straightened up and now simply leaned with one gloved hand. “Who am I? I think the question is who are you. I’ve been here longer.” Too long, in fact. One can only crush so many flies. The hyena was not shy in his blatant admiration of this woman’s...assets, so to speak. It was simply his nature. If he was hungry, he killed. If there was no kill, he stole the kill that grew foul in the sun...and if there was a busty wench to be had he’d be damned if he would avert his eyes like some bashful schoolboy. There was more to this wench though, this woman. Her eyes were hypnotically beautiful, but cruel as well. She looked like the type who loved as ferociously as she killed, perhaps more so. The thought was both unnerving and arousing. Still, he did his best to insult her as he did everyone, just to see how this strange new creature would react. “So, you, whoever you are, here at the docks. What gutter did you crawl out of then? Perhaps you came here by chance, washed up ashore, all wet and slimy with seaweed and sewage?” The thought made him giggle. He was proving his namesake all too much tonight. ooc...I’ve created a monster. O_O "Have you ever looked a cute, fluffy bunny directly in the eye, right before you snap its little neck? Priceless."

[Dye]

Dye's distinct, melodious laughter rang true once, twice, and more until she was left almost cackling, bent slightly at the waist to accommodate the awkward action. She laughed too sparsely these days, but this man? This man was hilarious. Not funny, just... Almost pathetic. At least, that's how the vulture viewed him. "That's no way to woo a lass, vagik. But I'll forgive you, this once." The flash of her eyes was noticeable as she raised her left hand to toy with the brooch that kept her low dress up, the silver glinting in the light to make the bird look as if it were alive, the wings moving slightly and the eye gleaming with some faux intelligence that no object truly has - a trick of the light, but a fascinating one. Eyes gleaming herself, the kelvic smiled malevolently at the obviously staring man, voice dropping to her deepest register as she shifted from protection to seduction, smooth as a bird in flight yet still with an eye for scavenging, for the things to steal and bones to pick and sweet passion to take from the willing and unwilling alike; as long as she could fit them into her talons' grasp, figuratively, then she would look for any way to get what she wanted - often overstepping a boundary and sometimes getting hurt. Or worse, enslaved. Teaches me to leave the city unprepared, hmm? But her bitterness left almost as swiftly as it has descended, its wings casting a shadow as firmly as her own until she dragged herself back to the man with his eerie eyes and messy hair and stubble and intoxicating scent whose throat was so exposed but she couldn't attack, wouldn't dare attack in the place she would possibly dwell for a season, maybe more if it were just what she wanted. No, she had to pull back a bit, observe. "Dye is my name, sweet. And what are you, love?"

[Alisdair McKennan]

The wench seemed to find that extremely funny, and Alasdair allowed himself a smirk, but something about the way she cackled so madly made him question her reaction to the jest. It was no matter though. How many times had he himself laughed hard enough to be doubled over in public? In fact what the woman said next brought him to chuckle at its absurdity. “Who said I was wooing you, gorgeous? I’m just admiring that needy little dip in your dress. A man has needs too, see, and I’m not one for wooing to satisfy them,” he leered, eyes drawn again to her body, and to the shiny thing that she kept fiddling with. It was distracting, the shiny thing. It was a decorative brooch that held her dress together, winking and reflecting in the light, the bird’s wings seemingly in flight. It was so very shiny. Alasdair snapped himself out of the trance that took him so often. It was enough that his growing collection of wind chimes and bits of bloody, broken glass was threatening to spill from the small closet in the tiny upstairs room that his monthly rent allowed. He would not let himself be drawn in by another crow’s trinket, especially in the company of this dangerous avian vixen. As soon as he pried his eyes from the damn shiny object he made note of her malicious smile. It worked well with her face, as if she was born with the expression by default. The face of a predator, on a fellow scavenger. Interesting. He was all about the chain of life, but it was when someone fiddled with it that it became really interesting. The vulture’s voice became low and husky in her reply to him. In the space of a second he had gone from defending herself from him to seducing him. Well that wouldn’t do. “Alasdair,” he answered after a moment, leaning against the wood banister of the stairs and stroking his dark stubble with a long, yellow nail, almost a claw but not quite. He did have some occasion to trim the things, for if he allowed them to grow too long he might burst a vein while cutting open a precious patient with them. Tricky tricky again. “Dye...Dye Dye Dye,” he marveled, savoring the name. It was an interesting name he found, very interesting. Then again he found most things interesting. “So, Dye, foul sweetling, what brings you up from the muck and weeds to visit this humble establishment?” "Have you ever looked a cute, fluffy bunny directly in the eye, right before you snap its little neck? Priceless."