« on: September 28, 2016, 11:17:24 PM »
Sept 27th - Marketplace
The big cat was settled once again on the lip of the fountain, sitting cross-legged upon it, facing the water, dressed in nothing more than his jeans and a tanktop. Gold-green eyes watched the play of water upon water and the splashing of it off the stone as though mesmerized by the sight.
She had been wandering with no real focus on where she was going. In her slender arms was a kitten, matted fur and looking as if it had one heck of a rough life. It was content where it was, purring a kitten's purr. Bare feet was carrying her to the circle and eventually the fountain. It was there she spotted...that cat. The big one. She stopped and lowered her eyes briefly only to look back up and clear her throat.
His back was to the square, his attention focused, but like all of his kind, he was more aware of what went on about him than it seemed. Even as she cleared her throat, he straightened somewhat, head turning just slightly to the side. That sound, that scent. He knew them as intimately as though they were his own, though they held subtle differences between this girl and his beloved. There was a purring note to his voice as he spoke, sounding amused. "I do hope your questions this time are of a less...intimate nature."
Her eyes slipped low, shamed even. "I ...I apologize." The words were meek, almost as if he had scolded her or someone before him had over the event.
That purring chuckle rumbled from him as he turned to face her, a smile on his lips. "You owe me no apology, Sylva. You seem to have no trouble speaking your thoughts when you have a mind to do so. You are much like my Kathryn that way. I will admit, even had I been in this shape, I would have failed to answer you."
She shook her head. "Doran and everyone else made it clear that what I asked was wrong. I didn't mean to upset you. It was just what I was told by Des. I don't really know anything about..what you and her have." She petted the kitten softly while shuffling around. She almost looked..nervous.
He waved her statement away casually, chuckling softly again. "I was not upset, simply...caught off guard. You should feel privileged, that is not something that happens very often." The golden-green eyes regarded her a moment, calm and contemplative. "You seem...unsettled. Do I truly make you so uncomfortable?"
"No.." Pause. "Maybe." She sighed and tried to hide her face against the kitten but it just wasn't big enough. "I upset Doran and his father and his friends and he hasn't talked to me since. And my questions to you were just as bad."
He frowned slightly. "I am sorry. I was under the impression they found it rather amusing to see me so discomfited." Another purring chuckle escaped him. "You caused me no insult, however. Perhaps I should explain that to them."
She shook her head. "N-No! No.. It isn't just you. I ...I asked Doran's father things that I shouldn't of." Her eyes lowered to the kitten and she held it up, under its forepaws to show it off to Clayton. "This little thing has been with me since then."
Teenager troubles. He was a little unsure how to handle that, having had no experience in that area. Rather than address that, he focused his attention on the kitten with a smile. "And what is her name?"
That seemed to be a good question because it made a confused look on Sylva's face. "Name? I do-" While she spoke there was sip, followed a strange little thump, almost sickeningly wet sound which seemed to cause her to right shoulder to jerk. The look of confusion only grew as she wobbled and looked down to her upper right chest where the blossoming of red started to bleed through the fabric of her top. She stumbled a step before crumpling down the ground but ever so careful not to drop the poor little kitten.
He blinked, caught off-guard, unsure of what exactly had happened for a moment, until he caught sight of the blood. He was off the fountain in a flash, movements impossibly swift and fluid. To the outside observer he appeared to be instantaneously at her side, catching her just before her head hit the ground, shielding her body with his own by instinct, though he was unsure of where the shot came from. Urgency touched his voice as he spoke. "Sylva? Sylva!"
The little kitten tumbled out of her grasp and being held by Clayton meant that it settled, cradled against her torso. It showed on her face that she didn't understand what was going on. She felt pain and she wasn't sure why. Bewildered she looked up to Clayton as if he had answers, her eyes glossing over with tears that soon spilled. "I...I'm scared.." The confession left her weakly. It was a matter of moments before her eyelids started to droop.
His voice was calm as he spoke to her, his hand pressing against the wound, heedless of the blood, only focused on getting it to stop. "You have been shot." He had an idea of who might have been behind the trigger. as well. Much as he wanted to go hunt her down right now, too, he could not simply leave Sylva here, either. As her eyelids drooped, he did the only thing he could think of, lifting his other arm and biting into his wrist. Blood welled immediately, thick and dark, which he then pressed to her lips. "You must drink." His voice was not soft, as usual, but a harder thing, full of command.
He was nothing more than a dark blob to her by the time she felt the warm, sticky wrist against her lips. She tried to purse her lips into a thin line and refuse what he was trying to do but her body simply refused to move. He knew. Of course he knew. How couldn't he? "I don't.." want to. It would of been said but it was a little late. The moment she started to speak she felt his blood trickle into her mouth. A hand quickly struggled up to grasp a handful of his shirt while the other pressed into the arm hovering at her. She didn't draw on the vitae but rather just let it drip. What strength there was, was simply to cling on.
He focused slightly on the flow of blood, controlling it, letting it flow faster, but not so fast she would drown in it, his eyes on her. He could feel another set of eyes on himself, he thought, though it might just be his imagination, those of a Hunter, one of his kind. If she was looking he thought, he was sure she was probably holding back the urge to vomit. Feeling Sylva stop struggling, accepting his gift, he spoke quietly. "That's it, little one." He lifted his hand just a little from the wound in her chest, hoping that his blood had the same effect on Sylva as it did on Katt.
She tensed briefly then her smaller frame sunk down, all tension leaving her and her hands releasing their grasp. One hand fell rest on the ground while the other settled just inches from the kitten who was mewling for attention. Oblivious to what was going on. While the wound did indeed begin to heal it was much slower. Painfully slow in fact. Nothing like watching his lover's wounds seal up.
He watched the healing process, slowly, so slowly. Something was definitely different, though he didn't know what. Perhaps Katt would know. A thought suddenly occurred to him, then, as she slumped down further, and he leaned close, his voice soft, reassuring. "I have to get the bullet out. I apologize, little one...this will most likely be painful." And without further preamble he pushed his wrist to her mouth, at the same time plunging a finger into the hole left by the bullet. It took no time to locate the object, his protean flesh curling around it and pulling it out as fast as he could manage.
She made a gawd awful sound against his wrist and this time bit into his flesh but not out of the need for blood. Her eyes shot open with a look of horror before they rolled back and closed and she slumped back down. While it was good he got the bullet out, as they would of likely had to cut her back open to get it out, it didn't help aid in sealing the wound. It would, in time. If she didn't bleed out first. For now Clayton had himself an unconscious, bleeding youth on his hands.
He didn't like causing her pain. He didn't like causing anyone pain, truthfully, but this one more than most. As she surrendered to the pain, falling into unconsciousness, he kept his wrist to her mouth, letting more blood trickle in, even as he was tearing at his shirt with the other, ripping the fabric into strips rapidly. A wad of them was pressed to the wound to staunch the flow, before taking his hand back from her mouth. The wound in his wrist sealed in an eyeblink as he did so, being kept open by his focus on it, and he worked fast, tying strips around her chest and shoulder to hold the other fabric in place. That done, he scooped her up in his arms. The wound was not healing fast enough, he knew, and he needed to get her someplace where she was sheltered and where he could get her patched up. The closest place he knew that might have a first aid kit was the Teas shop, so it was in that direction he headed.