The Quiet

[rhiannon_lee]

“Ah, shit…”

Rhiannon inspected a hairline crack in her wooden stake. No way was this thing making it through a chest cavity, unless the vamp was excessively fleshy. Well, that’s what happens when you use it as a doorstop, she chided. Her motel, a rustic place called the El Rey, needed a few upgrades, chief among them doors with working locks. Upon discovering hers was on the fritz, Rhiannon had shoved her stake in the threshold as a stop-gap, put on headphones to block the sounds of rampant sex next door, and crashed. She never heard the 10 a.m. housekeeper knock, just her efforts to shove the door open.

“Here’s hoping this place is as dead as it looks,” she muttered, flipping the stake in her palm. The cemetery was four acres of gravel, cacti, iron crosses, and graves outlined with rocks. No proper crypts, but a few above-ground vaults that could protect the undead in a pinch. She had gone there for lack of a better idea. Vegas would be fertile hunting ground. This town? All Rhiannon knew was that it was cheap and, on some level, its simplicity appealed to her. The sky full of stars appealed to her. The lack of traffic appealed to her. The fact that no one would think to look for her in Searchlight definitely appealed to her.

She sat cross-legged on a vault and listened to the sand shifting in the wind.

[Thread: Open to Tristan]

Comments

[tristan_vamp]

Tristan knew he shouldn't linger. It had taken him a bit longer at the monastery than he'd predicted. Yet, he still felt restless. The hunger was abated, but the lust, the anxiousness... whatever it was, remained. And he wanted to be 'still' inside before confronting Erika.

He was tired of being alone. He was not certain this plan was the answer. He was not sure he could even carry it out. Tristan knew for a fact he couldn't face his prisoner in his present condition.

He longed for control, but the demon inside had other ideas.

The cemetery came into view and Tristan paused. Perhaps he could find some fun here, some action to abate the conflict within. Something to help ease the restlessness inside. He cocked his head and stilled himself within the shadows towards the rear gates.

[rhiannon_lee]

‘Be still…’

Long after the training stint in England, she heard their voices shaping, guiding, cajoling. As a teenager, Rhiannon had been difficult. She was stubborn; she both yearned for and rejected praise. She bristled in public and cried in private. She was a mysterious combination of ‘chin up’ proud and ‘I’m just so happy to have been chosen’ humble. But by the end of that year, when she had been tagged and released into the wild (that’s how she thought of it), she marched to the right tune and held herself the way a Slayer was meant to do.

Some lessons stuck better than others.

‘Be still. Tune out the world. Listen with your guts, not your ears.’

She closed her eyes and exhaled. In a moment, she picked up on another presence. She imagined her sixth sense like a radio dial scanning, scanning, until it caught a fragment. She honed in.

In a fluid movement, she was on her feet and looking at the back gate, compromised stake at the ready.

[tristan_vamp]

Even though Tristan was now well fed, his nose still twitched at her scent. He could hear the blood pumping and flushing her body. He licked his lips, and smiled.

Still, he waited. Whoever she was, he surmised she wasn't average. He didn't sense much fear. She didn't flee from the night's shadows. No, it seemed to him perhaps that she was even seeking what lurked in the dark.

His smile widened. In one quick motion, he jumped over the gate and into the cemetery, softly whistling a jaunty tune.

[rhiannon_lee]

Rhiannon saw a man leap the fence. From that distance, she couldn’t tell much else; she presumed he was a vampire. Tall, blonde-haired, one hell of a jumper. The stake shifted between her fingers. She walked in his direction. Stealth went out the window, since nothing separated them but graves and open air. She evaluated her situation. Questionable primary weapon. Knife in boot. Lighter in pocket. Working hands. Maybe he’s just lost.. .

Yeah, right.

The wind picked up. Long strands of hair slapped her cheeks. “What’s with the tunes?” she called. “If you’re trying to creep me out, a better bet is the theme from Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. I get chills every time.”

She wasn’t afraid. She couldn’t remember proper fear. Dread and alarm, sure, but not fear. Six years had passed since her calling. She felt prepared. So now she either performed up to her capabilities or she didn’t. There were times when Rhiannon wondered if she was still improving at a normal rate. No Watcher was around to say and Slayers weren’t advised to congregate in one city. They were encouraged to come in once a year for re-evaluation, but to Rhiannon’s thoughts, no one in her right mind would do it. What if they decided she was over the hill and knocked her off, or worse, performed some kind of mojo to exorcise the demonic influence and give it to a fresh fourteen-year-old?

No one believed the Council was that Draconian.

But honestly, who knew?

He was closer now. Rhiannon made out his human features. A strong jaw, deep-set eyes, larger than average lips. Oh, she just bet this guy knew he was pretty.

[tristan_vamp]

Tristan actually smiled, then he gave a shiver with his shoulders. "Mr. Rogers always creeped me out." He jumped up on top of a crypt so he could look down on her. "Figured him for a pedophile."

The vampire took in the stake and the clothing, and the look in the girl's eyes. "Slayer?" He asked the question more to himself than of her. For the most part he'd avoided them. Oh, he'd heard of slayers. Most vampires had. But Tristan had preferred to avoid them up until this moment.

"I like music," he shrugged, his face sticking to the shadows. He knew she knew what he was though. That was obvious. "Music is good for the soul." He gave a little chuckle and then stepped more into the light. "Wait...oops, I don't have a soul!" He spun around again and lifted his arms out and upwards. He glanced at the moon and chuckled to himself once again. It seemed he was full of confessions tonight. But was he absolved? Never... he snorted and the smile left his face.

[rhiannon_lee]

“I never bought that,” she said. “Demons can coexist with souls. I should know.”

Rhiannon didn’t make any immediate moves. She wanted to talk to him, to size him up and decide whether it was worth picking a fight tonight. The stake might also deter him. He didn’t have to know about the splintered center.

How old was he? Rhiannon looked him over. Age could be deceptive. He wasn’t freshly risen because he knew about her kind, and he hadn’t come here to eat. The cemetery was too small to see much nighttime action.

So he’s a wanderer.

She walked the perimeter of his monument.

[tristan_vamp]

Interesting... Tristan quirked an eyebrow at her. He dropped so he was sitting on the edge of the crypt with his feet dangling over the edge. He casually rocked his feet back and forth. Casual on the outside, but alert enough on the inside for any sudden movements with that stake.

"And how is it that you should know?" he asked her.

Tristan had always believed that vampires had no souls. That was part of the eternal conflict and torture within him. Wasn't it?

Yes, interesting. Interesting subject of conversation, interesting interaction... and very interesting slayer. He had forgotten all about Erika for the moment.

[rhiannon_lee]

“Because Slayers are possessed,” she said. “It’s what gives us strength.”

Rhiannon had a way of stating her opinions as fact. As a girl, she had believed every word of the books the Watchers put beneath her nose. However, the longer she spent in the field, and the more isolated she became, the more she began to believe a tweaked version of what they sold as truth. Egotistical, they had called it. Gall. But things needed to add up in her brain or she couldn’t function, so she sorted through her faith, their alternate history of the world, and her experience before settling on a version that jived…. A version that felt true in her gut.

“They won’t call it that, but that’s exactly what it is, and I still have a soul. So why not you?” His shoes were at eye level. If they were going to fight, she’d grab his ankles and pull, watch him crack his skull on the way down. Instead, she added, “Vampires are just like people. Anyone can bury a conscience. It’s just easier if you believe your soul doesn’t exist.”

[tristan_vamp]

Tristan frowned and tilted his head, giving her a skeptical look. "So if you really believe that, why do you kill vampires?" He jumped up and crossed his arms. "Or do you have this conversation with every vampire you meet before you decide to stake them or not?" If she did, he wasn't sure how he rated.

"And I'm betting your bosses, or whatever... I bet they don't quite agree with that assessment."

Tristan wasn't sure he wanted to believe he had a soul. What did it mean if he did? He thought of his recent meal but either way felt justified. After all, the priest deserved it. Tristan chalked him up in the Mr. Rogers category...

[rhiannon_lee]

“I kill them because they kill us,” she said. “What should I do instead, wait for the justice system to take care of it? Or maybe hope all the vampires will have a change of heart?”

Rhiannon watched him get back up. Raging case of ants in the pants? Or maybe he’d seen that look in her eyes when she studied in his ankles, the wheels turning, and decided to take a better offensive position.

“As for bosses, I don’t have any. I did have teachers, and no, they don’t agree.” She took a couple of steps backward and climbed atop a vault. It was lower than his, but she wouldn’t get a crick in her neck from looking up. Her boots made hollow thumping sounds on the lid. “They say you’re one-hundred percent evil, one-hundred percent of the time. I'm probably wrong. What do you think?”

[tristan_vamp]

Tristan smiled. It didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he shrugged. "I've met some humans that were more evil than any vampire I've ever known."

He jumped down off the crypt and again looked up at the moon. His back was to her, as if giving her an opening if she chose to take it. "I must admit, however... the demon inside... it hungers. It... controls. And that's a constant battle." He turned his head to give her a look in profile. "Perhaps you understand that as well. Not the hunger for blood, but... a hunger nonetheless."

[rhiannon_lee]

“What, to do violence?”

Rhiannon shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah.”

What was he saying? That he tried to tamp down his impulses? Not drink people to death?

Opening… clear opening… jump his back and break his neck.

She tucked her stake inside a Velcro band that fastened around her thigh and pocketed her hands. In the left palm, an obsidian stone felt smooth between her fingers. Rhiannon didn’t notice its presence, at least on a conscious level. If so, she would’ve wondered where it came from.

“I’m lucky. The world is what the military calls a ‘target rich environment’. Lots of monsters to play with.”

[tristan_vamp]

Tristan laughed out loud. "Isn't that the truth." He turned towards her fully and gave a little bow. "It was a pleasure, dear slayer. I am Tristan. I wish you happy hunting." He didn't add that she had given him a lot to think about. Nor did he mention that his restlessness had now passed.

[rhiannon_lee]

“Rhiannon,” she murmured.

She touched two fingers to her temple in a half-assed salute to his departure. It was probably best that he looked to be taking his leave. It wouldn’t be smart to make a habit of trading philosophical notes with vampires. She might start thinking they made better company.

She wondered, if that stake hadn’t been faulty, would she have picked a fight, or struck up a conversation anyway?

The Slayer hopped off the vault, the soles of her shoes crunching in the gravel underfoot.

“Try not to eat anybody,” she whispered. “I don’t want it on my conscience.”