~~Beatrice~~
Climbing down into the cavern was getting easier. But no matter how good she was getting at it, if the clouds decided to cover the night sky, the obsidian shadow below her was an easy way to get some broken, mangled limbs. God damn the canyon was a bitch, with no good footing anywhere, and enough jagged rocks to kill any kine who fell down, guaranteed.
But she was familiar with it now, knew where the good rocks for grabbing were, knew where to put her weight into a crevice to get a foothold. Easy does it, easy does it. Through the sharp stone and sharper twigs and brush.
The tunnel into the cave was far more forgiving. Hard to find, but smooth and inviting compared to the canyon it connected to. And once through that, she was greeted by the colossal cavern of the Circle of the Crone. So damn metal, with bones on the walls for decorations, a blood bowl of bone in the center, and with rooms and hollows carved into the rock walls.
"Hey."
"Hey." She gave Aaron a small nod as she stepped in. The pale-skinned Gangrel returned it, but his eyes were busy, looking the contents of a book up and down. Not sure what kind of book had your eyes going up as well as down, but she didn't bother to check.
"Mission go ok?" he said.
"Yeah. Garry's got people riding the Invictus edge on purpose, like I thought." She shrugged and raised a claw to pick at the crocodile teeth along her cheek. "He knows it'll cause trouble. Thought he was done with trouble."
"Carthians, done with trouble?"
"Hey fuck you, we didn't all just look for trouble all the time. Dickhead. Carthians just try to change old stupid shit. Or do you enjoy that Dolareido is practically a monarchy?"
He mirrored the shrug and smiled. "Prince lets us do what we want. Mostly."
"Yeah when the mostly part changes, you'll understand."
She really had no business getting in Aaron's face. Man was nice, for a Gangrel, but a bit naive, and kind of the odd man out in their weird little cult. Too nice.
Ugh, for a second, she wanted to use the term 'beta' to describe him. Joe was the sort of moron to think in terms of alpha and beta; and if she was turning into Joe, she'd be better off ash.
Moans grabbed her attention. At this point, moans when entering the cavern were more common than silence, since Othello and Jennifer often liked to bring their meals to their rooms, instead of showing a little decency and fucking them where they found them. Want to fuck them in the club? No one would even blink. But bringing them back to fuck in the cavern, where the stone walls captured sound so everyone could hear everything, was rude.
And she was too weak to not sneak a peek. As long as she didn't do anything, it was alright. Right?
Definitely do something nice for Julias later, Beatrice, you guilty bitch.
Smirking to herself, she walked over to Othello's room, and stood in the opening of the large alcove. Othello was lying on top of a woman, and beneath them was a bunch of blankets, with a pillow underneath the girl's hips. And of course they were fucking, with a deep and heavy, fast-but-not-too-fast rhythm. Anal sex of course, Othello's main interest, and the girl underneath him didn't seem to mind.
In fact she barely seemed to be aware. Her arms were limp along the blankets, and her moans were quiet, exhausted things. Othello must have already drank from her. Poor girl was borderline comatose while the muscley, dark-skinned Daeva sank his cock into her ass. Comatose or not, the kine was soaking the pillow underneath her cunt, and her body was trembling, toes curled and thighs quivering. A long, deep, slow stroke, and the girl squirted onto the pillow, with a wavering, weak moan to follow. Another one, and another little squirt; girl was cumming her brains out.
Ok, enough staring. You have a boyfriend, and this is very uncool.
She kept watching for another ten seconds before she moved on. Course then she was just watching it in her head, and she raised her claws to her hair as she shook her skull.
Jacob was sitting in the back of the cave on a chair, a simple thing of wood with a leather cushion. For some reason, it went well with the bones that covered the rock wall behind him. The ancient Nosferatu was wearing some old brown pants, black shoes, and an open brown vest, with nothing underneath. She could see his chest and arms, and found herself a little surprised; the man was in good shape for what would have passed for a fifty-year-old kine. A bit thin, but strong. Whoever had sired him had picked a weird time for the embrace.
He had the usual bandage over his eyes though, to hide his empty eye sockets.
"Beatrice, how goes scouting?"
"You were right, Garry's stirring up trouble. I know the Invictus have been taking more territory with Xnomina on the border, but it's not like that's a declaration of war."
"If your neighbor, someone you know doesn't want you around, starts marching troops up and down your fence line, would you not respond?" Garry smirked his crazy smirk at her, and leaned back into his chair to bring a leg up onto the other. Knife in hand, and a piece of wood too, he started carving. He'd only just started working on it, so all he had was a block of wood the size of a brick.
"I guess I would. And didn't know you did wood carvings."
"Good." Another grin for her, before the eyeless vampire started back into the wood with the blade. "What is Garry up to, specifically?"
"He's got multiple cells causing mayhem for the encroaching Xnomina institutions. Breaking down machinery, causing accidents for the kine, shit like that. He has other cells, his older Kindred, roughing up Invictus who walk the neutral line. No one's been killed yet thank god, but some kid is going to go too far eventually."
"Undoubtedly." The old Nosferatu worked quick, shavings of wood falling and exposing a knife-like shape from the block. "Probably what Garry is hoping for."
"Say what?"
