A Self Called Nowhere [Active, Open]

[machitobaye]

Characters: Machi Tobaye, Rayne, Lorenzo Belli
Setting: First floor, kinda... around.
Time: Night 004, after the conference thread.
Summary: Angry Machi meets an angry Lorenzo and a very hungry Rayne. He provokes one of the two with his liar's temper and gets killed.
Warnings: Extreme violence, insanity.

Comments

[blood_n_leather]

Leaning and partially collapsing against the wall to try and keep herself steady, Rayne's eyes were unfocused and tinged red, lips parted as she panted for breath. Skin covered in a sheen of cold sweat, her legs shook as she did her best to fully put her weight back on them, her lower half and left side was nearly completely covered in blood. While her stomach was healed, with no physical sign to show that she had been disemboweled, it was hard to not noticed the fact that her arm was completely missing, shoulder ending at a rough and bloody scab of a stump. That might be a good reason that Rayne is loosely, very loosely, carrying one blade in her hand, doing her best to keep it from dragging on the ground. She was half dead, and near losing her marbles, but she wasn't leaving either of her angels behind for someone to steal

[returntoyouth]

Lorenzo was doing surprisingly well by this point given the night's events. He was starting to get sick from downing alchemic pills so frequently for the better part of three weeks, he was still moody from the kidnappings (although Zetsu had successful enough at calming him down) and his alchemy was still spotty at best, but he certainly could have been worse. He was, at the very least, doing better than the two individuals he could see as he walked down the stairs.

He didn't recognize either of them and so he might have simply moved on, but the woman's injury caught his attention. That was..ah, she was missing an arm. How unpleasant. He stopped halfway down. He would watch and wait for a minute or two before moving forward. At the present time it seemed safer, easier to simply avoid conflict when and where he could.

[machitobaye]

Machi saw Lorenzo first, but he smelled the blood even before that. He pulled back, almost ducking slightly behind the doorway to the library when he saw motion, but it was only a man... one he'd never seen before, not clearly, at any rate. The pianist spent much more time avoiding people than interacting with them, but he'd caught a glimpse of this one before--just distantly, he was still a stranger, and the smell of the blood, combined with the current situation, made him agitated, more suspicious and paranoid than normal.

He stood his ground, though, gun in hand. He was oddly unafraid--it was like his mind was wiped, and either very clear or suffused with fog--anxiety anbd tension, frustration and pent-up energy made him twitchy. He held on to his gun tightly, though, one hand resting atop the barrel and the other on the handgrip.

[blood_n_leather]

Suddenly stumbling as a leg went out from under her, Rayne heavily landed on one knee, as the blade held in her hand struck against the floor, the dhampir shakily putting her weight against it to keep her from fully collapsing. It was perhaps only the fact that the house was immune to damage that the blade didn't pierce and crack the marble tiling. Trembling as she did her best to gather her strength to stand again, a bead of sweat slid from her forehead to her chin, before dropping down to the floor below. The red that tinged her green eyes darkened as a little more of her humanity was temporarily lost, the redhead slowly pushed herself to her feet, growling under her breath. Food.

[returntoyouth]

Lorenzo turned his attention to the blond as he continued down, stopping momentarily as he came closer to the library. The redhead seemed to be going her own way and so the alchemist's attention was drawn more to the child in front of him. He looked young - couldn't have been older than fourteen, maybe fifteen - and so he might have not drawn any alert were it not for the gun in his hand. Lorenzo eyed it curiously, at first only silently questioning his intentions before eventually speaking up, "...I hope you don't intend to use that thing carelessly."

Or if he was going to, he hoped it at least wouldn't be pointed at him. He'd already seen a certain plant man get shot up by a particularly incompetent woman the other night, he didn't care to have a similar experience with a kid. Not when he still had things to do.