|
|
|
Unbelievable. Surely, she didn’t think she was going to eliminate them on her own. Surely, she knew better than that. He had spent a good twenty years helping her towards her goal; he did not intend to see that work go to waste. It was not the first lost cause he had served, and most certainly would not be the last, but he refused to even see it as such. Upon her agreement, he began to formulate the night’s plan of attack.
“It would be best if we were consistently seen together; as lovers, perhaps? Numbers are typically a discouragement, even if only two.”
She laughed. “It’s a sound idea, but despite the quaintness of cross-species dating, we hardly look the part. A bare-chested, pot-bellied wolf and a red-eyed, pale-as-death woman in a ballgown? We’d be targets, more likely than not.”
He scowled at her, ears against his head. “Then perhaps it is time for a change of appearance.” Gauging the distance to the rafters, he leapt and pulled himself onto the bar’s ceiling floor. Checking under the cushions of rather plainly sewn couch, he pulled out the set of clothes hidden underneath. Holding them securely, he made the jump back down, narrowly avoiding a stool. He cleared his mind once more, and released the instincts of the wolf.
She gasped. In front of her stood a bearded man only slightly taller than she, short white hair tied in a tail at the nape of the neck. Looking at his face, it was nearly impossible to put an age to him; his beard had not yet come in full, covering only his chin, and his face carried the relative softness of youth, but sky blue eyes carried experience and hardness far beyond that of a young man, eyes his amused grin never touched. Unaccustomed to modesty after having taken the more comfortable form, he unconcernedly began to dress. Pulling on the gray shirt and doing up the buttons, he put his arms though the sleeves of a thick black coat, embroidered on the sleeves and collar with thread-of-gold in an elaborate Greek maze, and fastened its clasps and buttons. Cinching his belt though the waist of now fairly baggy trousers, he tied the ends at his ankles as he eased feet that had been paws a minute before into low-topped boots.
“I should think I look the part now,” he said in a higher, musical voice. Gesturing a hand mirror into existence, he checked his reflection, made his eyes blood red, and blocked his reflection from the mirror. As an afterthought, he unwove the safeguard he had placed on her earlier; had she looked in a mirror herself, she would now see nothing, as she had probably seen for the last score of years. The pair of them looked like what so many others in the warehouse did: a vampire couple, come to the bar on a date for refreshment and conversation.
He held out his hand. She hesitated before taking it; this was hardly the first time she had seen him take human guise, though he supposed he did not shift very often in front of her. Hand in hand, they made their way through the furniture and out the bar's doors.
 Tezke · Fri Jun 12, 2009 @ 02:45pm · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
