multiversallogs | (no subject)

Who:Gaheris Rhade and whoever helps him out...
What: Rhade is running from Candlelighters after he's been found out.
Where: Right on the outskirts of Dog Fenn, coming in from Syriac Well.
When: Late in the evening. Date flexible to mun necessity.
Warnings & Notes: Blood. Violence likely. Always with the angst warning. Until his boneblades grow back they won't be readily visible.

This section of Baedal has gotten cool and crisp at the late hour. The families in Syriac Well are probably enjoying their sleep, or their firelit night in one another's company. No doubt a couple of tired parents are interrupted by children disturbed by sounds outside, or the folks themselves are left to stare at the ceiling at the sound of thumping or a heavy impact. At least one block will have something to talk about the next day, unfortunate though it was they would probably have entirely the wrong idea later.

The source of these noises hits the pavement with a roll, before continuing up the sidewalk toward more busy, populated areas. Somewhere that might have more signs of night life and decent lighting. He fumbles with a blood soaked hand to try to send off a message from his CiD- not even of himself at that moment. Recordings of a few conversations he'd been privvy to, because no one suspects boyish expressions and demure natures (that were excruciatingly against his instincts to emulate) to be anything but honest. The screen lights up a smear of red from his thumb.

These shoes are impractical and too loud. He puts the device in the pocket of his overcoat and begins to sprint, realizing that he couldn't abandon the wingtips like some sort of bizarre pastiche on a Grimm fairytale. He'll be just asking for the militia to hunt him down on some manufactured charge.

He's so close to Dog Fenn. He can smell the restaurants closing down for the night, and still hear the buzz of a few more people out. He doesn't stop running. In fact, he throws himself into it. Faster than any normal human, but not like a vampire. He still has to strain, feel the pounding of blood in his chest and his head grow dizzy. As long as he stays ahead, as long as they don't stop the message from going through, he'll have accomplished something.

He hurks at the feeling of sharp metal in his shoulder-blade. He will have to commend the man for having impeccable aim with that crossbow. He's barely made it past the first shop and he had to slip into an alley and pull that one free of his body, too.

Few people here knew Gaheris Rhade before he "vanished". He'd not made a point to be personable, and when he'd discovered what was happening in the city it had filled him with a sense of resentment. A reminder of what drove his people to subjugation over the humans. A reminder that the lives of his people were simply offered to the Magog, that they weren't entitled to compensation after the planets they brought life to were obliterated by the horrors of their invaders.

And then he had gotten his mind stuck on Dylan, on Dylan's face, and that last question to him.

Gaheris. What have you done?

And he'd vanished, he'd become another person, a Mr. Emory Morris (a poor boy with a home education and a fear of the unfamiliar city, needing his new employer to show him around and all the kinds of people that he needed to be wary of). A poster-boy smile and a chipper tone for all the old hands he worked around and impressive to the haughty ladies. And he remained that person until the nasty moment that finished his recording, where someone grabbed his arm and realized that the boneblades he'd sanded down were still there. They'd asked him what sort of freak he was. He said the proper insult was Uber, and it was after that final word that it cut off. That's the final thing Hasi would recieve.

Rhade does his level best to keep from leaving more blood than necessary. A trail will defeat the purpose of losing the men following him. He hangs onto the bolt with slick fingers because he'll need something to make a last stand with.

Threaded | Flat

Certainly training in four-inch high heels is a stupid idea on the outside, but to Cindy, it's a necessary adventure. One never knows how they'll be dressed in case of a sneak attack. Dressed in said shoes, tight jeans, and a plain t-shirt under a light jacket too thin for the actual weather, she's been jogging across Baedal and it's none too nice neighborhoods.

Cindy's barely breaking a sweat or out of breath due to her Fable nature and the only reason why she stops halfway down a block is the trail of red that begins at her feet. She smiles a little, in that knowing curious way, and begins following it with super-light almost inaudible steps. This'll be interesting.

It's a good thing that it's late at night as Cindy strolls through the streets with an unconscious Rhade thrown over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Granted, it'll look weird any time of the day, but right now, it'll look extra special and suspicious now if the streets weren't empty. His blood is now on more than just her shoes and it's pretty annoying, but Cindy considers this as no good deed going unpunished.

Finally at her point of destitination, Cindy stops in front of an unremarkable door that blends in with the rest of the doors surrounding it, knocking on it with her free hand. Hopefully, the resident behind it is still awake.

It took Hasibe a little time to extricate herself from the outing she was having with none other than Sandor Zendak, and she hasn't had time to change since. She turns up still in her leopard print pumps and red dress, knocking at Benny's front door. Her expression is inscrutably cordial, a little appropriate worry sneaking through.

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some time after gaheris is secured at benny's!