dreamer_fray | (no subject)

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Harth massages his temples.

It's more for dramatic effect than anything else, but the minions need everything blatant. The few in front of him shuffle back nervously - more nervously than they have been for a while. After Icarus' death, Harth had more of less ignored them, short of a few clipped instructions, mostly involving the Slayer. But a few weeks ago he'd suddenly got... organised.

If organised here means controlling, short tempered, and vicious when displeased. Those few who'd thought the diminutive vampire with the face of a kid would be easy to take on hadn't continued to think for long.

Well, 'cept for Hadran. Sometimes they still hear him screaming.

A thin white finger points thoughtfully at a particularly unlucky minion.

"Right. You two? Kill him, he's a moron."

The boy continues thoughtfully over the instant scuffle. "Not that y'aren't, both of you, but that time was really his fault. See? I can be fair."

Dust billows, and attention is returned to him. "So, y'failed to grab her before she handed the statue over. Dumb, but not unfixable. You'll pay attention next time?"

"Yes, Master."

"Excellent. Now rut off, if y'would. Little Katya's gonna be freaked enough with just me."

And Harth grins. Since that's fine with him.

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It takes a while for Katya to wake, as she's no pump, and her head took a heavy blow, but as soon as she first begins to surface to consciousness, she knows something's wrong.

She's lying on hard ground, for a start. And the light's wrong. It's unfamiliar, disorientating. So her first waking thought is actually the cliche one, and she would hate herself for it if she was capable of being objective right now.

As she blinks open her eyes, peering into the gloom, she gets no answers, partly because she's lying on her left side, and her right eye doesn't see so good.

When Katya lifts her head to clear her good eye, she instantly regrets it as a sharp pain flood throw her brain from a spot on the top of her head, and she remembers the heavy blow that knocked her out.

And then she remembers more. Lurks. A Hand over her mouth, lifting her up.

Why isn't she dead?

There's little time to worry about that, though as the blur of a freshly opened eye clears and she sees who's standing in front of her.

The first sound she makes is a gasp of fright.

Harth turns around, and his first expression is one of sympathy.

"Hit you pretty hard, must've," he says. "You've been out hours. Might not wanna sit up too sudden."

He sits down crosslegged close by, adjusting his glasses.

"Take your time."

She had indeed arrested her movement up due to the pain, but that doesn't really explain how she's here, with this kid, and not... well, dead. Katya's never heard of anyone surviving a lurk attack. Lurks don't let people survive lurk attacks.

But she's alive, and he's here, and he's not a lurk (they all look pretty distinctive).

So she does take her time, trying not to wince too visibly at the pain, she slowly pushes herself up to sit, one hand cupping her head tenderly, all previous fear of the kid dropping away with empathy.

"Where are we?"

"Underground," he says, tilting his head upwards.

He stays where he is, looking up. The ceiling's damp, and drips every so often. The stillness of the air lends support to the notion. It's musty, despite the size of the room.

Katya slowly moves her head up to follow his gaze, but pauses, eyes hovering on his face.

He's even smaller than her. If they hit her this hard...

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he says, with a shrug and an inward smile.

"How's your head?"

Like he doesn't know. He can almost taste her bood, know how fast it flows, how fresh each drop is.

Most vampires make fairly good monitoring instruments when it comes to open wounds.

"Hurts," Katya says, pulling her hand down from the injury now and inspecting the blood on the fingers.

"Head wounds always bleed a lot, though," she says, to reassure herself as much as him. "I'll be okay."

She even brings her hand to her mouth, an automatic, unselfconscious act, cleaning off her own blood from her own fingers.

Harth watches her in silence, eyes gleaming behind the deadening lenses of his glasses. She'd really be a natural.

Maybe. He's open to whatever whims he may have at this point.

"Yeah," he says softly.

OK from the wound, maybe. Not OK from...

Shuddering quickly, she glances around the underground hall in which she suddenly finds herself with this strange - and familiar - boy, trying to scope out the situation. Right before she gives him a warm, friendly smile.

"We met before, didn't we? Over Aska way?"

He nods.

"Yeah. We're actually near there right now, just... down a lot."

He knows, seeing as he'd set up here specifically because of it. Just one of those things.

"You know where we are? Like... exactly?"

Katya winces again at the pain in her head as she starts up, not quite making it to stand, but at least almost ready to try.

"Can you get us to the surface?"

Harth smiles.

Yeah, she's like Mel all right. Not in everything, but that...

"Not exactly, but I probably could. You sure you can move okay, though?"

Why not? It's night out there, and she can't get away.

Katya would be flattered no end if he voiced those thoughts. She'd probably blush. Which would probably put an end to the comparison.

She's not sure she can move OK, actually, and her hand hovers by her head, as she forces herself to stand, slowly.

"Hafta try," she says, "afore they come back. You ever hear of lurks knockin' people out and leaving them places?"

Harth gets up too, extending a sheepish hand to her as she stands shakily.

"Well. S'not unknown," he says innocently. "They won't be back for a while, though. We got time, and I'll help you if y'need."

"Thanks," she says, warmly.

Notably warmer than his hand, actually, and she frowns slightly at the cold of him, concerned.

"You know a lot about them?"

"Yeah, quite a bit," he says, looking about before tugging her gently over to a nearby wall. He could be up most of them with little trouble, but it's unlikely Katya could deal unless there are better handholds.

"What there is t'know. I mean, most are pretty simple. Kind of like animals, only... cleverer."

"Really?"

Katya lets herself be led over, finding thinking hard enough to do with her head.

"Animals don't usually take prisoners, do they?"

"No. But like I said... clever. And they can be led, if one's strong or smart enough. Or both, that helps. Here, can you reach that?"

He points to a hold.

"If y'can get up on this wall-thing, that'll be a good start. Need a boost?"

"No," she says, with a hint of ingratitude. "I can manage..."

Her vision's rocking very gently, but there's pride in her job at stake here when she reaches up. "What about you, can I help you up?"

Harth grins when her back's turned. Oh, this is fun.

"Sure, if I could get a hand up, that'd be jake..."

He scrambles up after her, still peering about.

"If it's steady enough t'get along, there a hole in the roof over that way, we can try..."

"Which way?"

She doesn't have her visor with her, so Katya's eyesight is decidedly poor, and it's easy to take for granted that her companion would have better vision than her. She doesn't look very hard, and just follows his gestures, stopping briefly when a wave of pain washes over her head again.

"Straight on, follow the top o'the wall."

He pauses when she does, and reaches out gingerly to touch her elbow.

"Y'okay? Don't fall."

"Jake," she says sharply, and shies away from his touch, which comes closer to overbalancing her than merely stopping had. The fright solicits a quick gasp, and she takes a moment to steady herself.

"My head."

"Sit down if you need a rest," he says. "No good passin' out again."

Idiots. None of them ever study their food source enough t'figure what they can and can't take. But she'll be all right. For a while, anyway.

Katya wants to. She really wants to. But... but if she stays too long it would be as good as passing out. At least if she can get him out of here first...

Mel would get the kid out of here first.

"I'm not going to pass out," she says, pressing on. "I'm jake, really."

"Just... yeah," he says, articulately, watching her. If she passes out, fine, but it'll sure cut the fun short.

"Watch your footing, s'crumbly here."

"I know," and she does. She knows where to shift her weight, how to respond to weaker footholds, how to move along quietly while barely disturbing the wall. Now she just watches him, to make sure he's OK.

Part of her's tempted to ask what he does that makes him move so much like a grabber her age, but Katya's learned from living in Versi not to ask questions like that.

"You think you're going to slip, you let me know."

Harth hops lightly over a gap in the wall.

"I will."

Hmm, maybe he should at that. Let the girl feel a little achievement. Then again, if she doesn't catch him, things could get tricky to explain.

Or... He grins briefly at her back, thinking.

It's hard, definitely. And it shouldn't be that hard. She's a grabber, she's supposed to be good at this kind of thing...

But Katya's head is pounding, her vision slightly blurry, and there's really cold, empty feeling in her chest. The lurks will be back any second, and then they'll kill them both.

Unless...

Everyone knows Melaka fights lurks. Mel knew that Katya would have gone to Gunther's. Maybe she's coming to find them now.

Katya risks a glance over her shoulder to smile share the hopeful thought with the boy, but moving her head makes her dizzy again, her vision tightens and she feels herself swaying.

The foothold beneath her shifts.

"Try gettin' closer t'the wall, an' we can pull ourselves up..." Then he feels the shudder and represses a fierce grin.

"Hey- It's movin'" he yelps, slightly melodramatically, and stretches out a hand to clutch at the wall, and the other to her. "Grab somethin'..."

It takes a second for Katya to realise that it's not just her head, but the actual building shaking, and she digs her fingers hard into the brickwork, resting her sore head against the wall while the building stills.

"Ruttin' Upway," she mutters. "Least we're not that far underground."

"No," he says, still clinging to the wall.

"If we can get out, 'least we stand a chance when they come back."

The boy peers backwards, looking for all the world as if he were afraid.

Katya swallows, hard.

No, they don't. They really don't.

"Come on," she says, pressing on. "I'd rather not risk them coming back at all. But if they do come after us, we can get to a safe place."

Harth nods and follows, letting go of the wall almost reluctantly.

Above them, a slow trickle of dirty water seeps from the bottom of a crack in the ceiling, leading all the way to a small hole.

"There. Should probably be able t'fit through, yeah?"

Katya peers at it, and nods.

"Yeah, I think so," she says, reaching up and carefully pulling herself up to start to scale the crack. She hesitates after a few feet, and asks, "You're OK climbing, right?"

"Should be," he says, reaching for a hold.

"I'm okay at climbing, usually."

Harth is currently resisting the temptation to somersault over her head. The urge to show off is one he never did quite conquer.

Katya, luckily, is completely unaware of his urges. As far as she's concerned, she's dealing with a boy of about 13 to 14, skinny, and too pretty to have lived a particularly rough life. But he does seem to understand lurks.

"You live around here?" she asks, talking rather than letting her headache return. "If you can get home, they can't come in."

Harth keeps climbing for a few seconds, quiet, thin hands fumbling for each hold.

"I don't- really live anywhere much," he says awkwardly, after a moment. "Just, y'know. Around. It was better."

Katya hesitates.

"Oh."

She doesn't say a word more until she's reached the outside, and offered a hand, only slightly aware of the missing fingers, to help pull him out.

"You'd better... Come on, I'll take you where it's safe."

Harth hesitates, only for a second - just long enough to be noticed - then reaches for her hand, accepting help up and out.

"Thanks."

"It's just..."

Katya hesitates, and glances over her shoulder.

"We have to run. We're only safe inside."

Harth glances back over his shoulder, too, biting his lip as he scrambles over the ledge - and wincing as the edge of one stone crumbles under his shoe.

"...Ruttin'... W-which way?"

The stone fragments clatter their way down.

Katya starts at the noise, but forces a reassuring smile, before gesturing him towards the nearest flyway.

"Com'on. You know Versi?"

He shifts in that direction, peering beyond the dusky light through his glasses.

"Lil' bit, yeah. Think we can get there?"

From below, just within hearing, a snarl.

They have to try.

"If we catch a ride, and if we

run

,"

But she hesitates just to make sure he can catch up, despite the obvious fear from the snarl.

Harth's quick, and pretty nimble, but he still lags inexplicably behind her despite the frightened look on his face as they run across rooftops and over walls.

"I- I think- they're followin' us," he gasps between ragged breaths.

Katya squeaks in terror, and continually checks behind her for him and for the lurks, until her side is splitting and she can hardly see for effort and terror.

Then she just puts her head down and races, forgetting the boy.

Harth inhales her fear with every panting, unnecessary breath as he runs easily along, letting himself lag, but never lose Katya.

Killing in Haddyn tends t'be quick, all about the kill, skip to the end. But Harth remembers the games, the chase of older days, when there was space. The love of uncertainty that colors every fight with Mel, there's a little bit here, in the long hunt. Most humans rely so much on machines now, so few run like this, it's a rare joy even when the object of the game is something else.

One fist shatters a crumbling wall corner, scars the old brick as he runs on by and begins to climb after the terrified grabber-girl.

Stupid, most lurks. Need a sign to follow a chase this simple.

This way...

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