It's like the rain stopped and the heat swooped in to bring summer all at once. It's later in the evening when Rachel is approached by a shrouded figure, wrapped in layers of cloth to obscure their firgure, and cast the woman's face into shadows. "Are you known as Rachel, miss?" There's a picture clasped in a twisted, gnarled hand that seems far older than the voce implies. "Prince Tillo requests your presence."
Shadows are part and parcel to Rachel's existence, and have been since she was abducted. It might seem like it would clash with her embrace of Summer, and it's embrace of her; but someone once said that shadows only exist because they are cast by light. She examines the shrouded figure with wariness in her expression, and glances down at the picture. Just for a moment, taking her eyes off this figure does not seem like the wisest idea. "I see. Urgently?"
"It would not be wise to delay, but he did not say either way." The woman replies. The picture is from a place after the exploration of the Pure packhouse. It disappears into a fold of the woman's clothing. "I can guide you to the Oubliette, where he holds court and waits for you?"
"Well then... let's be wise," she accents to being guided, pausing only to pull out her cell phone and tap out some quick texts. Millennials, always glued to their devices.
No words or glances to the appearance of the phone - maybe not expected, but not surprised by the device. The woman bows her head and turns, leading Rachel down a nearby alley to take the quickest route to the tunnels. It's a bit of a hike, and not always a pleasant one, given the state of the tunnels themselves.
It's a proper labyrinth down here, but the woman knows the way and leads to a big, heavy steel door, pulling it open and motioning inside. There's no one, but for the throne, the scythe that leans against it, and the tall, gaunt figure of Tillo himself.
In theory, a Changeling rarely needs to worry about escape. Portaling is done by a small expenditure of glamour. Whatsmore, as a Darkling, Rachel is capable of transubstantiating her body into emphemeral substances; mist, shadow, a ray of light, all things which can normally pass through most physical barriers. None the less, having been kept and caged for years, even with the tools of escape at hand, being herded into a confined room with only one, guarded, exit... is disconcerting.
Rachel takes measured breaths through her mouth. Keeping herself calm, keeping herself from being worked up. Really, she should probably be more afraid of Tilo than she should be of the mere possibility of forced confinement. And in a way she is; he brought her here. And he has power. You don't need to be in Chicago long to learn that.
"Price Tilo," she inclins her head towards him, but doesn't take her eyes off him. Nor does she meet his gaze; she's familiar with stories of vampire mesmerism, though she's not sure how much stock to place in them.
The door is gently shut, though gentle, it is weighty, and the change in pressure with the exit closed can be felt in the way the air moves, then stills.
Rising from his throne of rebar and bone and old, charred timbers, Tillo comes awfully close to seven feet tall. Long limbed and gaunt, he takes a step forward to study her better. "What do you know of the werewolf known as John?" he asks. He speaks slowly, drawing out some sounds until he is almost purring or growling the words, leonine and low pitched. That sensation of pure, unsatisfied hunger radiating off of him.
As quickly as the fear comes, the anger follows it. Who is this creature to make Rachel feel trapped and afraid? By what right does he invade the boundaries of safety and agency she sets? Summer's warmth pushes fingers into her ribs, not quite chasing away the chill of fear, but reminding her; she too is strong. Strong enough to live if the Prince decides to claim her life? Maybe not. But strong enough to not be cowed by that monstrous hunger? Yes. Yes, she must be.
She must be.
She straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin. It might seem defiant, but it's also necessary so she can keep looking up at Tillo. "Not much," she answers at first, but not out of hesitantly. She expands; "He's been friendly, to me anyway. He's interested in the black ooze stuff," a confused frown comes to her brow for a moment, "He said it was 'nanites' once, which sounded weird. But I guess we're all pretty weird, so why shouldn't we have some scifi with our fantasy?"
She shrugs. "He's involved with a community center, I think. He hangs out with a lot of the other werewolves, sometimes they seem kinda... deferential to him."
She pauses, remembering, "And he's the one who told be about the Werewolf Fascists that are apprently coming to down. He found one of them, and I guess fought one. I helped him check out where another one was hiding."
The answer must satisfy, for there is a hum of acknowledgment from the Prince. "Do you think he is a strong leader? Do you think the black ooze will be brought down? Can he, is he capable of, leading people to victory?" He is so still, so utterly inhuman. Long ago he gave up the ruse, and now he lets his body become as still as a statue - he does not blink, breathe, sway... there is nothing about him that does not seem dead.
"Well how would I know?" It's not a question in an accusing tone, more an expression of ignorance. It comes with a shrug, and an upward wave of one hand, "I've only known him for a couple weeks." She folds her arms over her chest, expression going pensive, "But I guess, looking at his track record over those weeks, he's been doing pretty well so far."
She archs a brow, looking up towards Tillo again, "Why? IS he a leader? I don't really know how the werewolves organize. Or your people, for that matter."
"Why? He made me a promise, and I wish to know if he is *capable* of keeping it. Only a fool would invest without researching it. I don't like being surprised by failure. And if it seems likely, then I can prepare for what will follow." Tillo says, almost dismissively - as if the idea of failure or successful follow through matters not to him nearly as much as being ready for either outcome.
"Ahh, so you are one of the Lost? Interesting. The skills of your kind are many and varied."
"That's one way of putting it. Diplomatic, my mother would call it." Rachel allows. And diplomatic is certainly preferable to many alternatives when deeling with a who-the-hell-knows-how-ancient vampire. "And we're pretty picky about our promises too. I hope John knows what he's doing."
"A wise John would also hope he knows what he is doing." His tone reflecting the tiniest trace of amusement - humor so dry the desert would be an oasis. "It certainly sounds like many people hold faith in his abilities, but not many have seen his follow through. The nights ahead should prove interesting, don't you think?"
Hah! The old vampire has a sense of humor. A small one, maybe, but at least it's not a 'oh look at all this pretty gore, don't you love how people scream' kind of twisted sadistic humor. That's good! Rachel can work with this.
"Interesting in a 'may you live in interesting times' sorta way, yeah I'd say so," she cocks a hip and her lips adopt a small upwards curl.
A thought occurs to her, you can see the moment it does on her face, the way she blinks. "Hey, by the way; can I ask you a question? If it wouldn't be like... a faux pas or something. I'm not sure what the etiquette is when you're summoned by a powerful Vampire Prince."
"Precisely. Things are always interesting beneath the city, where the things walk between the worlds with ease."
There is a pause, and then he beckons her to continue. "Ask, child of thorn, but know, I may not answer. Or you may not like the answer."
She tilts her head slightly, acknowledging his conditions, and also his... allowance of her question. Then she archs a brow, "Is there like... something similar to the Accord in DC?" She leans slightly more forward, "I mean somebody's gotta be protecting those jerks, right? Or else one of my kind would be changing their minds for them." Surely there are those among the Fairest who could fix the Supreme Court, the corruption of Congress and the Senate, etc. Or become sources of such corruption themselves.
DC? It's so far from here that it takes a moment for the elder crone to switch gears from local to far away politics. And he laughs. "Many serve my kind. Many serves others. Demons and witches and those that hunt all of us. There is no salvation, their hell is coming." Sell your soul to the devil, and expect heaven? Those poor fools.
"Well could it hurry the fuck up?" Again, not a question laden with expectation, more... expressing exasperation and frustration, without requiring a reply. Rachel's body is her's. It took a lot of work for it to make it her's, after it was stolen. It takes a lot of work every day to keep it how she wants it. And even then sometimes it's... a negotiation. But, "Nobody gets to decide what I do with my body. Not the Fae, and sure as hell not six assholes with lifetime appointments."
"When you live forever, a century IS hurrying." Tillo says, studying her a long moment. "Surely one as can blend with shadows and grow claws and move as one born to darkness can go and take care of a few old white men?" Nevermind that he told her there are demons and vampires and worse controlling the leashes of the wrinkled nutsacks.
"If that's all that stood between me and them, they'd never find the bodies," she assures Tillo with a grin that is all vicious, all predatory, all righteous wrath anticipating being fulfilled. Not for him, of course, for her imagind targets. But it dies to a frustrated frown, "But it's not, you just said so. I'm not an idiot. If any Lost or Vampire or Werewolf could decide to change a politician's mind or make them dissappear, it'd be happening all the time. It'd be obvious. No, of course they're protected."
She shrugs, "I just hoped there'd be a weregild I could pay or something, some reasonable terms to come to with whoever holds the contracts on their souls. But I didn't really expect it."
"Being in the public is a shield all its own." Tillo offers, though it is poor condolences, surely. "DC is far outside the range of my influence. The cost and resources to do something like that? I would have to being in possession of the entire city."
"Bring me the city. And I will see about bringing you their heads."
She chuckles softly. "Well, I'm not going to make an unwise promise. But I'll keep your offer in mind." It's not as though the city is in her power to give. And even if it were, her loyalty to the Freehold will probably always outweigh her loyalty to Tillo.
Another thought makes her cock her head, "Do you WANT the city? You've had... I don't even know how long to try to take it, if that was your first priority. But I suspect it isn't."
"Nothing is so simple, is it? Do you think the city would follow one such as I? Or do you think the Triumvirate would unite against me and my blood magic? My unorthodox methods? No. I stand tallest among the kindred, but the others would never accept me without losing everything first."
"Well that reveals a priority; you have something to lose." Uhoh. Maybe you shouldn't say that to a vampire, Rachel. Since you just told him he has an exploitable weakness. "Which is a good thing," she hastens to add, "Having something to lose means you have something you care about." Not better! "Caring is good. I think so anyway. Becoming detached from the world... well, the Lost go through something like that. I can't recommend the experience."
Something to lose. That implies an interest in leverage. And that will not do. Shadows shift, and then he is simply gone. All seven feet of gaunt elder. One heart beat. Two. Five. Seven is the magic number, when perhaps, realization dawns, when the weight of the darkness in the room begins to twist oppressive.
From right near her ear, comes a low growl - bestial, animalistic and decidedly inhuman.
"Watch your words, /girl/."
When Tilo vanishes, Rachel takes a half step back. Bends her knees. Lifts her hands slightly. Feels her heartbeat hammering in her chest. Lets blood flow to her long muscles. And listens. Not for him. Not for the Vampire. She listens to the Wyrd. She listens to Summer. She listens for that innaudible song of Ares. The song of battle. The song of war. The song of fighting for your life.
It does not come.
Instead, she hears only the growl of something no longer holding onto even the vague pretense of humanity. Are vampires just another kind of fae? That's a chilling thought. But she doesn't shiver, even as her throat grows dry. She's spent a year now training herself to fight the monsters, and at least six years before that being one. Summer's warmth still curls through her body. She refuses to be cowed.
"My apologies, Prince Tillo," she says, keeping her voice as steady as she can. There's still a faint waver in it.
"Hmm." He turns his head, taking in breath into undead lungs as if he can scent that unsteadiness and finds it *delicious*. Or perhaps it is the lure of her warmth, her pulse, the way it has quickened. The Beast is there, barely under the surface, leaning in a little more before he forces himself away.
"Go, morsel. I am done with you." The threat unspoken, but seen in the length of fangs that have descended, and the coil of serpentine tongue that wraps around one before sliding away.
'You are not the scarries thing out there,' Rachel thinks to herself. It's true, but she has to repeat it to herself several times as she turns towards the door. It's either going to open or she's going to portal right through it. But honestly, she'd rather it open; she hopes Tillo doesn't know about portaling. She might need that advantage some day.
The woman must be listening very closely, the door opening just before Rachel's hand might touch it. She moves as if not formed quite right beneath the wrappings, and silently begins to lead the way back out of the catacombs.
Rachel takes her mind off how unpleasantly, disturbingly that conversation ended by trying to memorize the twisting path out of this place, and by focusing on her guide's gait. She know what it's like to have an uncomfortable shape. But mainly, she's just happy to be leaving in one piece.
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