undergrounds | she's a vamp, but she still kills the dance

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she's a vamp, but she still kills the dance

Dance In The Dark
(February 13th)

Lately, there's been a rise in parties at hidden venues. Secret locations around London that you can only get to if you know the right people. Getting there is difficult, but once you're there, it's sure to be a night you'll never forget- if you remember it in the first place.

Tonight's party is held in an abandoned tube station. Climbing down what feel like thousands of steps you step off through a dark tunnel, the old stone walls slick with condensation. After following the winding walkway, you emerge in a cavernous room, with alcoves filled with pillows, the entire place is lit by candle light. Music blares through speakers as a DJ plays all sorts of dance and techno rave music. Alcohol is plentiful, in multi-color cocktails, and the air is thick with the smell of sweat and magic.

But behind all of that is a new nest of five vampires, watching, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. At the signal, the lights will be doused, the doors shut, and what will later be called the Valentine's Eve Massacre will begin.

If you're lucky, there are some ways out. Back tunnels, sewers, ways to escape. You could always fight, too- the vampires are young and inexperienced. Either way, it's up to you to save yourself: there's no mobile phone reception down here.

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Nancy Fagin. [closest to a last name as she ever got.

she keeps climbing the ladder.] but you won't find me in any phone book. [dod those even exist anymore?

his question about the spells gets her to pause if only to shoot him a dirty look.]

no. they're illegal.

[He smiles at her remark about phone books, wondering if she's joking or if she's oblivious. Either way, it's oddly endearing to think of something simpler right now.

The smile disappears with her look, however, and he scowls.] Like I know. It's good you don't then.

[Nancy's at the top of the ladder now, and reaches one hand above her to try to push open the grate. with a little difficulty, she manages to lift it up, and places her shoulder under it to keep pushing it higher.]

We're not evil, despite what Redbright would have you think.

You got it? [He calls up. Maybe he should have gone first, both for the dress and the grate. At least this way she can't be attacked. Kyle's not always the brightest when it comes to his plans, often lost in good intentions.]

I don't think you are. [He replies honestly. He offered to help Abigail, after all. Truth be told, he's still not entirely sure what the difference is if they're not busy sacrificing goats or babies or virgins or whatever the hell it is evil witches would sacrifice.]

Yes, [She says back as she manages to get the grate up far enough that it falls open with a loud 'clang'.]

We should go quick, they're bound to have heard that. [There's urgency in her voice as she climbs up off the ladder, and promptly turns around to offer him a hand.]

Then you're smarter than a lot of people, Kyle.

[Kyle agrees and follows her as quickly as he can, accepting her hand up and grunting as he wiggles his way out. The soldier wastes no time in helping her to push the grate closed again and then he's on his feet.]

A lot of people would disagree with you on that. [He replies jovially before reaching out to offer her a hand.] Come on. We should put some distance between us and this area.

[This time, Nancy doesn't hesitate to take his hand.] And a lot of people are quick to label us all evil. So there you have it.

It's too late for the tube. [that stops at around midnight, dear American boy.] we'll have to walk.

People are oblivious. [He jokes. It's somewhat true, but overall, Kyle believes in people and the good in them. And he knows he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to certain things.]

I'll walk you home. [Kyle slides his hands into his pockets, holding his elbow away from his side as an offer to her if she wants it.]

You can say that again. [But please don't actually.

Nancy accepts his arm.] You're sweet. But I'm fine walking home alone.

What, you think this is about you? [He teases with a smile, folding his arm lightly against his body again as they walk together.] I need someone to protect me. This place can be pretty dangerous, you know.

[She has to laugh, moving in as he shifts his arm.] So maybe I should be walking you home, then.

Oh, you are. We're just detouring to your place on the way back. [He flashes her a bright grin before softening it and switching to a more genuine and less joking tone.] I wasn't kidding about giving you my number. I want you to text me in a few days, let me know you're alright. Or at least pretend like you will right now, so I can get a decent night's sleep. Whether you actually do it or not is up to you.

Oh are we? [She raises an eyebrow, looking over at him.] So you'll still be walking home alone.

Oh. [That was a little unexpected. But it was good to know. And so she'd do him the favor and text him.] I will. [But] But only if you do the same.

I guess so. [Anything to get her home safely without too much protest.] Good thing I'll have your number.

Yeah, I will. Wouldn't dream of a double standard. [Another smile. Although he's still reeling a little from the massacre downstairs, Nancy's a nice girl and he's actually glad to have met her. Maybe if they talk more, the association of her and death will dissipate.] So what did you mean before, when you said you could help me with my cuts and bruises?

a good thing.

[She repeats, and looks over at him.] I meant what I said. I can help you with 'em. I'm pretty good at healing, as it were. [Had to be.]

Like magical healing? How does that work? [Kyle's oblivious about magic in general, but especially the nuances of specific spells. He has a a few deeper bruises from a fight the other day that he's more interested in getting taken care of than any of the shallow scrapes and bumps from tonight.]

It... does? [Nancy doesn't know the science behind it, the specifics, like some of the more educated witches out there.] Honestly, no one's asked me that question before. I... do it. I think the words and imagine, and concentrate, but it happens.

Some of the first things I learned to do.

When we get to your place, will you take a look? On your porch or whatever, I'm not asking to come in. [They just met, after all, and the last thing he wants is to sound like he's trying to sleep with her.] How long does it take?

The front steps. [Under a terrible light. Sure, why not? It'd make bruises look even more sallow than usual.

She won't sleep with him. That's not her plan.] Not too long. But if you did want to come in... I'll put some tea on. Help calm our nerves, I don't want to do anything with unsteady hands. [it was hard to concentrate when they shook.]

Cool. Sounds even better. [He nods, the smile he offers slightly strained with the mention of calming nerves. Kyle's trying to focus on the now to avoid those exact nerves. He glances around, not having been in this area before and glad she's leading him.] Are we close?

[Nancy glances up at the cross-section they were approaching.] Oh- yeah, surprisingly.

Must have walked a way in the tunnels, then. It's a bit up ahead.

[Because magic or something and narrative coincidences am i rite?] Not the greatest part of town, you'll have to forgive me. I'm far from wealthy.

[Totes mah goats there they were.]

You don't need to apologize for how you live. [He replies with a light shrug. It doesn't bother him at all, beyond concern for her well being.]

[Woah. Woooah. Nancy nearly chokes. He doesn't expect her to apologize. Which is brilliant, but- oh. The realization settles in her stomach that she's apologizing for herself. toherself.

She swallows it down.]

And here we are. [She's leading him up the front steps and into the building, up a flight of stairs and down a small hallway before arriving at her doorstep. Standing in front of it, Nancy fiddles with her purse. Her fingers shake and she nearly drops the keys a few times before she finally gets it into lock and opens up the door.]

Don't mind my cat.

[She flicks the lights on and kicks off her heels, taking her down to her 5' 2''.] Sit anywhere, I'll put the kettle on. [She gestures at her stove-top where the flames instantly jump to life under the kettle.] Just a few minutes and we'll have tea. In the meanwhile, let's take a look at you.

[And in the light of her apartment, well, damn. Not bad.]

[Kyle follows along easily enough, keeping a paranoid eye out for signs of life or any suspicious persons. It all seems innocent enough. At the door, he's about to offer to help when she finally unlocks the door and allows him inside. It only worries him more.]

Thanks. [He replies lightly, looking around the small apartment before accepting her invitation to take a seat on her couch. Kyle watches the fire for a moment, wondering if she really lives her magical life with such nonchalance. It's amazing to him to think about.

At her comment about taking a look, he nods a little and stands again to slide his jacket off and then lift his shirt over his head and lay both on the arm of the couch beside him. He's fit, with more than a normal amount of scars dotting his torso, and a few tattoos: a small silver heart, like a locket, on his left pec; a set of sergeant stripes with an American flag peeking through on his right shoulder; and a celtic cross with the letters 'VQP' woven inside on the center of his back.

Kyle indicates his left abs, where a dark purple bruise dots the area. He also has a few scrapes on his cheek and arms from tonight, but it's the slight older bruise that concerns him.] Think you can help?

[She tries not to admire, she really, really does. But his arms and torso were really, really impressive. Slowly, Nancy approached him, coming to sit at his feet on her knees. Easier to see the damage from here.

She reaches out and gently touches some of the bruises and scrapes, her hands trembling. Nerves fried, that's all, she knows. But he's counting on her to try to heal him, and she can't look like she's faltering. So carefully, she runs the pad of her forefinger over his particularly dark bruise.

He has soft skin, she notices.]

I'm good at bruises, [she promises him, and, closing her eyes, focuses on the bruise, healing it, coaxing the blood cells to dissapate. Her touch will feel a bit warmer to him, as slowly the color fades from the nasty purple to green, then yellow, and finally brown before disappearing all together.

When it's done, she lifts her hand and takes a deep breath. That was harder than usual, but as she pushes herself to her feet to go tend to the tea, she doesn't want to let on.] I've got salves for the cuts, too.

[But she's curious about the scars, as she always is. She pushes it to the side, entering her kitchen to manually take the kettle off the stove and grab them some mugs of tea.] Milk or sugar? [She looks over her shoulder, catching the initials on his back. More questions for another time.]

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