I've painted up my lips and rolled and curled my tinted hair

[pigeonsblood]

It hurts. Not that Ruby didn't expect it to; she made that knife herself, and she made it to hurt. She'd also entirely expected Dean to turn it on her as soon as he got through that door, but she didn't flinch. She'd done what she had set out to do; if Lilith could engineer her own death out of loyalty, her most loyal handmaiden could hardly do

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[gettin2old4this]

If Ruby were to go outside in the late afternoon, she might find that the wind is tad more overbearing for the late winter. Somewhere near the lake there's a really tiny old woman with wavy grayish-pink hair walking. She suddenly stops with widened brown eyes.

A demon...

Genkai is a hunter, though her expertise is usually in the Eastern supernatural. (But then again, 60% of demons she meets are enemies to her, no matter what the origin.) She has a LARGE amount of psychic power, but she's not willing to harm anyone unless they do something to bother her, the people, or the mansion period. (Or if the typist asks.) ^_^

[pigeonsblood]

Ruby's plan was to catch the old lady's eye, nod and smile, and maybe go on to discuss the weather, cats or cooking while she probes gently between the lines to find out who this person is and where she stands in the social tapestry of what is apparently Ruby's new home for the foreseeable.

That was before she sees her jerk into alert mode like a hound airscenting. She knows that look right enough, and she's lived too long to underestimate a hunter just because she happens to be a little old lady. Ruby's been little old ladies before and she knows what a mistake that can be.

So she meets the hunter's eyes squarely, her back straight and her face serious.
"If you're going to try and kill me, I'd appreciate getting it over with right away. Being ambushed over dinner ruins the digestion."

[gettin2old4this]

Her eye furrow even more, trying to mentally read this creature. Genkai calms down...

“ I don't have to you're smart. You're a demon of the Christian hell, black-eyed.”, she speaks as if Ruby's eye color was a rank.

“Tell me your name.” Genkai is already trying to deal with the strangest possession she's ever come across, now actual demons are coming out the woodwork.

[pigeonsblood]

Well, it is a sort of rank. It's also not an especially high one, though Ruby insists she could have reached a higher one if so much of her work hadn't been deep-cover.

Not much can disconcert Ruby, much less visibly, but having her rank and number reeled off casually on first acquaintance kind of does. She lets that show for the briefest moment, then smirks and does a sort of little bow that isn't more than around 50% sarcastic.
"Glad to hear it, ma'am. I'm Ruby." Then, because despite the ma'am she's not easily cowed,
"Who the hell are you?"

[survivingson]

Brett has been enjoying the steadily warming weather, finding it more comfortable to indulge in his favorite pasttime as the need for sweats and sweaters begins to taper off. It's warm enough that he can get away with running in just a t-shirt and track pants, and cool enough that he can throw a hoodie on afterwards to keep him warm from his shower.

The teenage werewolf has, in fact, only finished doing just that when he brings a book he borrowed from the library out to a common area with the sandwich he just made himself, and flops down onto a couch in a common area to enjoy recharging.

[pigeonsblood]

Oh look, it's a boy. Ruby would have walked right past him - perhaps with a deliberate, eyecatching little swagger, because while teenage boys are too easy to be worth much as entertainment, a bit of tease is never not fun.

There's something about him, though. It doesn't show on the surface and Ruby's not sure just what it actually is; but she's lived a long time and she knows not everything that looks human is. It's enough to make her look twice, to catch his eye in passing and nod Hi at him. It's enough to make her watch carefully for his reaction instead of taking it for granted.

[survivingson]

Brett still doesn't know too many people here, mainly due to the fact that he's not as certain of himself without his pack as he would like to think he would've been; he wouldn't have, before arriving at the Mansion, called himself a particularly wary person, but the things one learns about oneself. He's aware of her long before she comes into range, really, though he's learned to delay the reaction. The teenager glances up from his book, smiles when he sees her, and takes a little longer to look back down.

Or, well, he would've looked back down except she catches his attention right back and instead, he blinks and begins to lower the book.

[eyrienprince]

Not Lucifer? But Lucivar, and he certainly looks the part. Towering and golden-eyed and supremely aware of himself. He has to be, after all. Warlord Princes who don't mind themselves end up creating war zones. (Anyway.)

He's coming down the stairs, later in the day, looking relatively relaxed, actually, his dark-silk colored bat wings folded in tight to his body to accomodate for the stairwell. He's not exactly friendly, but he does better with ladies, and demons translate to demon-dead for him anyway, and therefore aren't a problem. At least not in that way.

[pigeonsblood]

Amusing as it'd be to mistake him for Lucifer, the typist can't quite swing that. Ruby would know. But when she sees him coming down the stairs, she's visibly taken aback - in, as she decides equally visibly, the good way. His trajectory allows her to look him appreciatively, leisurely up and down as he descends, and as soon as he's in conversation range she smiles - the quiet little half smile like the cat that's already had the cream and can see the canary approaching.
"Very nice. The scenery round here just keeps getting better. Who would you be?" And what, she wonders; everyone else she's met so far has at least looked human.

[eyrienprince]

An almost amusingly common mistake, actually. Lucivar has actually almost gotten used to correcting others on it who aren't so...perceptive.

He glances up when Ruby talks, having apparently been thinking, and goes from zero to tense in three point five. His expression doesn't do the lazy, relaxed thing that his brother's does when he's wary; rather goes almost inexpressive, blank. "Lucivar Yaslana," he says, stopping, right hand twitching once, at his side. "You just got here."

It's not a question, not really. (He can't justify bristling audibly about the looking over at this point. It is a...sore spot, though. He used to be much better at preening.)

[surfaceshine]

So, things were better. Then things were worse. They're starting to get better again, but Dean is guarded now, wary and ready for something he'd begun to think would never happen - a number of things, actually.

He knows better. He does. The other shoe always drops, and this time, its name is Ruby.

The elder hunter is walking back into the house, worn out from pacing the grounds outside and too much anxiety and too much whiskey and not enough food. He's not armed, unless one counts the khukri blade that lives at his hip and his bad attitude, but that's no reason to underestimate him.

[pigeonsblood]

Underestimate Dean? Who, me? XD

[surfaceshine]

Dean is lost in his own thoughts, carefully reciting the list of supernatural creatures he knows of that can be weakened or killed or bound with any involvement whatsoever of rosewood, first forwards and then backwards to make sure he got them all, but not so lost that he misses that there's someone standing on the porch.

It's just the fact of who it is that escaped his notice until he glances up to guide his way up the stairs and freezes, though he doesn't mimic his brother's stunned trout face. No. His own features go dangerously, glass-surfaced blank for a moment, and then honest to god hatred floods in the sides and frosts the narrowed eyes.

He doesn't bother with cliche things like you or any growled threats; he doesn't have the knife, he doesn't have holy water, he doesn't have a Devil's Trap on a rug handy or anything at all. What he does have is Latin, and when he says the first syllables of the exorcism, the words hit the air like the punches he knows won't do any good, his tongue crisp and brutal around the sounds.

"

[pigeonsblood]

Not this shit again. Ruby already knows it's not going to work; more importantly, it hurts, an immediate dislocating pain that starts right where the knife twisted under her ribs and stretches, reverberating through all of her. Her sharp indrawn breath, if anything, makes it worse; her anger surges black into her eyes and her cheekbones stand out, suddenly stark in her white face.

Somewhere underneath the immediacy of pain, her mind works away on its own. Dean's hatred is refreshing in its straightforward burning clarity, like a shot of peppered vodka. No wasted words from her either; she's going to drink deep and not look back.

She doesn't hesitate, only snarls like a cornered animal and lunges. Not with the knife, not yet; her rage and pain demands its satisfaction at first hand. She aims a vicious right hook upwards at his face, following through with a feinted bodyslam that, if she can, mutates at the last instant to an attempted knee in the groin.

[fckingperfect]

Natalie has been around--though quiet, really, and today she's in the common area, reading a music theory book. Hey, one's always got to hone their mad piano-playing skills. She's sort of bored with the book, though, and flops it on a little coffee table before sighing loudly and probably over-dramatically.

"Whatever," she says aloud to no one in particular.

[pigeonsblood]

Ruby, always unfailingly nosy and alert for mischief opportunities, pricks her metaphorical ears up at the sound of teenaged discontent. In the right hands, that can be a powerful force for chaos and destruction.

She picks up the discarded book without asking permission and leafs through it; then she grins down at the girl.
"Seems a bit on the dry side," she says. "This what people do for fun around here?"

[fckingperfect]

"It's like, whatever," she says with a little shrug. "I read to learn, not for fun. Well, sometimes for fun. But this stuff's important to me, so."