undergrounds | may the odds be ever in your favor- mid-july

Most news reaches Evie's ears at a rapid pace- she has her sources, from years and years of working in London and around the world, allies from the unlikeliest of places, and her ears to the ground. So naturally, it doesn't take long for her to hear that a very enterprising young man (vampire) has been using his own sources to locate and capture wolves and shifters alike. Instead of skinning them and sending them to Raymond, however, as would be significantly less-messy, he's been doing the unthinkable: forcing them to fight to the death.

The loser, as imaginable, is skinned and sent to Raymond. The winner lives to fight another day, until they are no longer able to fight, and then the result is the same: skinned and sent to Raymond. There's no winning, except for the spectators, those who choose to bet on the outcome of these literal cage matches.

It's enough to set Evie's blood boiling- these are innocent people, forced to fight against one another. Regardless of race, it's wrong. Nothing she wants to see, to deal with. So when the news reaches her ear, she's off, gathering as much information as quickly as she can. And tonight just happens to be the night. The night of another match, and the night she's going to strike.

It's early, before the fight is set to begin, when she makes her way into the warehouse where this thing is supposed to take place. Using her finest stealth, she's able to find the first cage where a man, around the age she had been when she had been turned, perhaps older is.

She can recognize him. She's seen him around, heard his name. Daryl Dixon. How long he's been fighting, she can't say. All she can say is that she will get him out. Him, his opponent, and anyone else waiting in the wings. And on top of that? The man who organized all of this.

But first things first.

Evie leans down towards the man in the cage, her hood pulled low. "Hullo- I'm here to rescue you." Perhaps not the greatest opening line, but it's worked in the past.

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The last couple days had been a bit of a blur. All anger and fear mixing in with a need to fight, to hunt, to kill. It was a mix of sensations that even as the cat he'd never felt so intensely before. Never so sharply. The lack of proper food, the occasional bowl of water and slab of meat they tossed him didn't help on anything.

Hell, he didn't even know if it'd been two days or a five. It was just bad. He had already 'won' three fights. Two werewolves and another shifter he hadn't known the names of. Just been tossed into the cage with after being brought to an instinctual frenzy by the lack of food, poking and prodding to make him angrier, and that overwhelming need to hunt that confused his senses.

Moments of lucidity were few and far between. And when one of the people - not people, monsters like them didn't count as people no more - leaned in close to get a look at him, he bared his teeth - his completely human teeth - in warning. Cage or no cage, if he got a chance to rip one of their throats out, he would.

The words were either a lie or a hallucination.

Evie knows that need. The one that she kept buried deep inside of her, that she refused to ever give into if she could help it. That deep down blood lust, the drive to fight and kill. It scared her. Animal instincts were nothing to scoff at.

So she understood the way Daryl barred his teeth at her, and she held a hand up as a gesture. "I promise you, I will get you out. You can trust me." She looked into the cage, meeting his eyes. "I'm not here to hurt you." He could likely smell she was a vampire, and that alone was working against her.

"I'm going to unlock this cage, but before I do, I want to know, can I trust you?" To not attack.

Daryl stared at her long and hard. The scent of death and the dead was all around. Rubbed deep into his skin. Couldn't shake it even after shifting out of his fur.

But he was desperate, too.

"Need clothes," he said as his shoulders came up, his body curling in on itself. Not trusting. But giving a her a way to prove herself. All of his, except his vest, had been wrecked in the last few fights. Victims of claws and teeth and the blood that came after they landed.

You know what, she'll take it.

Evie empties the pockets of her coat and takes it off. She makes quick work of the lock, breaking it rather than picking the lock. It was faster. Opening the cage door, she held out the coat to him. She was tall enough that it should fit.

"Once were clear of this place, we can get you something else." She had no problem footing the bill.

The jacket wasn't much. Wouldn't cover the bottom half of him well, but it would make him feel a lot more comfortable because he could finally hide his back again. His scars. The ones that were far more shameful than the ones he'd earned the last few days.

Daryl reached out cautiously and, once his fingers were on the cloth, snatched the coat away from her. Pushed himself as far back in the cage, as far from her, as he could. It wasn't more than a couple feet. The cages weren't big. Cramped. Not tall enough to even walk in properly. But he could struggle to get the coat put on properly and not have to roll around like a pig in a wallow. Some dignity was saved.

When it was on - and it fit pretty tight despite her height since Daryl was much broader in the chest - he stilled and stayed quiet. Waiting.

This isn't her place to judge or ask questions. It's her place to make sure Daryl, and the others, are safe. Though she can't give all of them the shirt off her back. She can also make sure their fed- he looks like he needs it.

"Can you walk?" She asks softly. She'll carry him if she has to.

Daryl flinched at the question. He couldn't stop the reaction. He didn't know why, couldn't think it through just then. But he nodded, "yeah." The word soft, quiet, able to be heard by those with better hearing than a regular human, but only just.

He gulped and continued his staring. Waiting for her to move.

"Good." She steps away and gestures for him to follow. "Keep close- there's a tunnel in the basement we can use to get a good few blocks away, abandoned tube lines. It's a little ways, but it'll get you safe. Then we can do something about clothing and food. Follow me."

she is a natural predictor, and Daryl is a lost man. She isn't upset by his wariness or skittishness. Jacob was the same when she rescued him from the Ripper.

"my name is evie frye." because names help.

He scooted himself out of the cage, still cautious, keeping his distance from her. Half-walked, half crawled as his hands found their way to the floor like he was more used to moving on four legs and not two. Which wasn't exactly true. Just that he'd been in his animal form a lot more lately than he usually was and when instinct took over, so did the cat.

"Daryl," he said back after a long moment of silence. Not out of any urge to withhold it, but because he'd had to find that name again. He'd lost it somewhere in the disorientation and shock that came with actually getting out of the cage without someone beating him into submission or putting a choker around his neck to lead him to the fighting ring.

ooc: My apologies for the wait on this. July ended up being a really bad month for me RP wise.

may the odds be ever in your favor- mid-july

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