#OC:R.C | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

essie-essex · 2 months ago

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WoD OC Meet Cute:

"Only When We Run Do We Become Prey"

My entry for the World of Darkness OC Meet Cute Event. Thanks so much to @crownedinmarigolds @porcelainseashore and @vampemoqueen for organizing this! This was super fun!

I was paired up with @calyshine and their VTM OC R.C. You can find their amazing art contribution of our OCs' antagonistic meeting here: https://www.tumblr.com/calyshine/782127023456976896/wod-meet-cute

Meet? Yes. Cute? No.

Amid a backdrop of tension between the Anarchs and the Camarilla, R.C arrives to The City as part of a road trip in search of someone from their past. After meeting the local anarchs, they organize a race along the deserted nighttime streets, attracting a variety of racers and spectators. All proceeds as normal, until R.C is approached by a mysterious Kindred, looking to join the race.

Asha Mariam crosses into anarch territory in pursuit of information about an attack on a Tremere Regent. Of course, the anarchs will not trust a member of the Camarilla, but in disguise, perhaps R.C will tell her the names of the Regent's assailants. If not, then there are other ways of persuading them to give her the answers she needs.

R.C should have known that something was off when the woman approached them. The bulk of the group attending the street race had assembled by the starting line, surrounding the columns of cars modified especially for the occasion. They conversed in a mashup of voices along with the hum of idling engines. The young Toreador had broken off from the rest of the crowd, finding a spot farther back on the road, underneath a streetlight. R.C, as the organizer of the event, filed through all the steps in their head, various requirements for running a successful street race. Road blocks had been set up in all the necessary places, and the route selected. Racers had started to arrive, rides rigged for speed and style.

It was the click of her heels on the hard ground that alerted R.C to the woman making her way towards them. She approached with a casual saunter, her boots clapping out a sluggish rhythm that echoed down the empty section of road, and her shadow followed silently, stretched along the black pavement. R.C didn't recognize her, but she locked eyes with them, clearly wanting to talk.

“Hey,” she said, moving out of the darkness and into the halo of light from the lamp above. “How's it goin'?” She smiled.

R.C effortlessly mirrored her grin.

“Hey, you, uh, need something?”

R.C studied the woman's face, noting that what had at first seemed like a genuine smile lost a bit of its shine as she closed the distance between them. She reached up, lightly brushing a few locks from a cascade of curls behind her ear.

“You the one who organizes these races?” she asked, her dark eyes peering out from under thick lashes.

“Yeah, for the next few nights, at least,” they responded, their enthusiasm apparent. R.C had just arrived two nights ago, stopping in the city as part of their cross country road trip, the reason for which, well, was both looking for and running from someone. R.C had no intention of staying in the same place for too long. A few nights was all they needed to hit some of the local bars, check out the anarch scene, and organize a few street races. If any word of the Kindred they were looking for surfaced, they would know before it was time to leave.

R.C hadn't met this particular woman before, but it was nothing out of the ordinary with the limited time they had spent in the city. Still, a strange chill trickled up their spine as they made eye contact with her. Something about her vibe, R.C thought. It didn't match what they expected from an anarch. They figured it was probably nothing, but the woman made them tense nonetheless. Chasing their doubts from their mind, they assumed a friendly demeanor.

“I'm R.C,” they said with an upward nod of the head.

“R.C,” she repeated, thoughtfully. “Call me Mara.”

“Wassup?” They greeted her, their hands shooting finger guns before pointing at the gathered crowd. “You here to bet? There's a few people taking wagers over there.”

“Actually, I was looking to race,” said Mara. Her white fangs, although retracted, displayed sharp tips as she spoke.

R.C rubbed the back of their head, jostling their green-tipped half ponytail before giving the woman an awkward smile.

“Aw, we've already got our racers for tonight, but I can totes put you in tomorrow's race,” they offered. “What kinda ride you got?”

Mara recited a description, listing all the customizations she had made to her car.

“Awesome, sounds like a sick rig,” said R.C, a sparkle in their eye. “Can't wait to see it. You park here?”

“Uh, no. I left it a few blocks away. Figured I wouldn't be racing tonight, so I just came to watch.”

“Nice, the race is gonna be hella dope. You come here solo?” R.C's arms rested at their side, thumbs gripping the striped black and green straps hanging from their belt.

“Yeah,” Mara answered, a nervous chuckle escaping her throat. “I, uh, don't know too many folks around here, you know?”

“Ha, me neither. I just got here—only planning on staying a few nights—so most of the folks I've met were at that bar, what's it called?” R.C took a moment to think before Mara chimed in.

“Coarse & Crass.”

“Yeah! Coarse & Crass. You go there a lot?”

“Not really,” she answered with a shrug. “I might stop by for the occasional gossip, get to know what's going on around town.” She paused for a beat. “Speaking of which, did you hear about that crazy fight a few nights ago? I heard someone managed to injure a Tremere pretty bad.”

R.C had heard of the event from more than one of the local anarchs, three of whom had boasted about taking part in the attack. The ones who had faced off against the solo Tremere had burst into the bar, unaware of R.C's presence, loudly declaring themselves the victorious warriors against tyranny and defenders of justice before the others yelled a variety of phrases, all of which basically translated to: “shut up, you idiots.” Personally, R.C didn't see the point in provoking the cammies, especially the Tremere, but it wasn't like anyone would care about the opinion of someone just passing through town. Still, in the short time they had spent in the city, they had managed to gain some trust from the anarchs. R.C wasn't about to give up info on them to a stranger. Especially one with... weird vibes.

They studied Mara as she stood before them. Her outfit seemed strangely formal, her legs wrapped in a knee-length black skirt and heeled boots of the same color on her feet. At least the sweater was more like what R.C would expect in the alternative scene, holes of various sizes ripped into the fabric, giving it a worn look. Under her curly black hair and pencil lined eyes, her mouth was accented by a silver hoop around the right side of her bottom lip. R.C 's tongue automatically moved to their own snakebites, nudging each stud in turn. Really it was only the skirt that bothered them. It seemed almost inappropriate for the occasion. Like she tried to dress in a style that her closet couldn't quite accommodate.

“Nice 'fit,” said R.C, changing the subject from the battered Tremere. “Prolly not the best to race in, just f.y.i., but y'know it's your choice. I'm not about to tell you what to wear.” They chuckled briefly, rubbing the back of their neck. R.C couldn't quite figure out why Mara made them uneasy, but they stood on edge, ready to move at a moment's notice.

“Thanks. I'll keep that in mind,” Mara said, a curious impatience in her voice. She veered the conversation back to the previous subject. “Can you imagine getting to beat up a Tremere, though? Must have been awesome. You know any details about it?”

“Nah, like I said, I just got here,” R.C repeated.

“Right, of course.” Mara laughed, slapping herself lightly on the forehead. “I'd love to hear about it though. Do you know the ones who fought him?”

Maybe it was her posture. The way she stood, back straight, hands folded in front of her. Also, her manner of speaking. It was casual, but behind her words, her tone almost seemed practiced. As though she were acting. Plus, why was she so interested in the fight with the Tremere? R.C, once again, changed the subject.

“How'd you hear about the race?” R.C asked, doing their best to mask their intentions. Mara didn't seem bothered, the same fake casual smile scrawled on her face.

“Through Kat,” she answered, referencing a bartender at Coarse & Crass. R.C hadn't been in town for long but knew that the anarch hangout was the place to go if you were looking for information about the local scene. The night bartender, Kat, knew almost all the kindred around town, anarch or independent. Of course, she stayed out of Camarilla business, but it didn't hurt to at least know who they were.

“You ever race before?” R.C asked, crossing their arms.

“Of course,” Mara replied, the confusion in her voice apparent.

“You ever win?”

“Me? No,” Mara said, chuckling lightly. “Never.”

“What place did you come in for your previous races?”

She paused, her mouth twisting as she wiggled her lip ring with her tongue.

“Here and there. Doesn't matter.”

“Doesn't matter?” R.C repeated, clearly skeptical.

R.C doubted that this woman was here to race, but they had no proof. If they wanted to uncover her rouse, they were going to have to ask harder questions.

“How long you been racing?” R.C inquired. They leaned back against the light post, assuming a casual stance, but still ready to move if needed. The Toreador's eyes flitted towards the area where the racers were gathered. If they needed it, help was only a short dash away.

“On and off for about a year now. I've only been in a couple of races,” Mara answered. “I'll race every now and then, but not enough to really be known for it.” She made eye contact with R.C, seemingly amused by their attempts to trip her up.

“You're racing on a rainy day. Short Ram intake or Cold Air?” R.C asked. Mara replied quickly.

“Short Ram.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Works better in wet conditions since it won't take in water and hydrolock the engine.” She crossed her arms, a smug grin forming on her face.

There was no doubt in R.C's mind. Mara was thoroughly enjoying their little trivia session.

R.C considered using Auspex. It wouldn't hurt, would it? They would at least get an idea of who she was and maybe determine if she was lying. Concentrating, they expended their blood, reaching out to Mara's energy field for a clear view of her aura. However, they were instead sucked into a vision.

Finding themself in a hallway, they confusedly pivoted in place, attempting to get their bearings on their surroundings. The long corridor consisted of red carpet and white walls, lined with an alternating pattern of wooden doors and ornate golden lamps. R.C had no idea how they had gotten to this place when all they wanted to do was view Mara's aura, but maybe they had accidentally accessed her mind, and this was some sort of space within it. If they were correct, then it was possible that they would be able to find something that would tell them more about the strange woman. They needed to explore. Choosing a way to go, they walked down the hallway until it branched into other hallways on the left and right. R.C turned a corner, coming to another intersection.

“What the... ”

R.C could easily get lost in this place, which they perceived, branched out into countless halls and doorways. Not wanting to advance any more than they already had, they focused on the nearby doors, noting that each one had a symbol engraved into it.

“Okay, just pick one,” they told themself. Choosing a random one on the right, they turned the handle, opening the door to a room filled with objects and furniture. It didn't look out of the ordinary. The only odd detail they noticed was that there were no matching items. The lamps were different shades and sizes, chairs, various colors and styles. On a wooden desk, sat a jar of pens, each one unique. R.C approached the desk, picking up a pen and holding it in their hand, but all that came to them was a detailed render of the pen, which they could study closely, pivoting and flipping it, and zooming in and out at will. They replaced the pen, feeling various objects around the room, only to produce the same result. Returning to the hallway, they tried a different door, which led to another room, but still the objects refused to surrender their secrets. It was the same for any room they tried. Any item they touched. Defeated, R.C left Mara's mind, only to emerge from what they realized was a trance. They found her standing before them, a shrewd gleam in her eye.

“Get anything?” she asked.

Mara's expression alone nearly activated their fight or flight instinct. R.C managed to suppress it for only a few seconds before quickly excusing themself and heading back toward the race. They weren't running away, they reasoned, they just needed some backup. If this Mara, or whoever she was, had dark intentions for them, she would have to fight off a bunch of pissed off anarchs too. R.C slipped their phone from their pocket—a burner, flip phone, only to be used for the few days they planned on spending in the city—and texted Kat.

R.C: u knw a mara? rcr

Kat texted them back quickly.

Kat: Rcr?? R.C: racer Kat: No never heard the name. Pic? R.C: 1 sec

Mara had followed R.C to the mass of people gathered near the start line and now passed them to join the bulk of the group. The street, a dark river between the mountains of high-rise buildings, reflected the rear lights of customized vehicles, glimmering red under the crowd's feet. Various racers hung out by their cars, chatting up the onlookers as others placed their bets. Mara mingled among them, starting a conversation with a group near a bright yellow car. They seemed to get along fine, Mara smiling and laughing easily. R.C crept forward, aiming the flip phone at her and discreetly snapping a photo just before a line of people pushed past them, blocking the view. Reviewing the picture, it was a bit dark and blurry and also showed her at an angle, but they could still make out most of her face. It would have to do. R.C sent it to Kat and waited for a reply, receiving a text a few seconds later.

Kat: What did u take this with? A ducking potato? R.C: ya

There was about a fifteen second gap before Kat texted them again.

Kat: Gimme a sec R.C: k

Directing their attention back to Mara, they noted that she was still busy conversing with the small group of anarchs, but the mood was much different from before. The others were not smiling anymore, the atmosphere growing tense. Soon, they all turned, leaving to speak with one of the racers. They eyed her suspiciously as she scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on R.C.

Flashing them a wide grin, she waved. This time, R.C's face did not mirror hers, and they turned away, reluctant to interact with her again. However, as the time dragged on, they found themself wondering if they had possibly overreacted. Maybe Mara was just a bit strange. Nothing to fret over.

Finally, Kat texted back, but relief turned to dread as R.C read the note.

Kat: Thats the fuckign tremere regent

Puzzled, R.C replied.

R.C: da 1 tht got jumpd? Kat: No thats his replacement. Asha marie or smth. Got here after the fight. Heard shes got a rep for being dangerous. Get out

R.C's stomach fluttered as they snapped the phone shut and tucked it back into their pocket before turning to search for Mara. She had disappeared. If they could put out an announcement, warn everyone, she wouldn't be able to hide among the crowd anymore. They headed toward the bettors' table, eyeing a megaphone placed on a chair behind it.

Suddenly, Mara's persistence in asking about the attack on the Tremere made sense. She was here to figure out what happened and identify the culprits. The Tremere weren't known for doing things halfway. If she managed to find out who the Regent's attackers were, they were dead. R.C pushed past a tightly packed group of people next to a flame-painted car. They were almost to the megaphone.

“Looking for someone?” R.C jumped, startled as Mara appeared behind them. They turned, locking eyes with the Tremere as she began to speak again. “COME WITH ME,” she ordered, dominating their will until all there was left to do was obey.

Together, the two left the main crowd, heading out and away from the race.

It wasn't difficult for Asha to obtain the anarchs' text messages. Her hacker ghouls had cracked their network nights ago, remotely installing Thaumaturgically-enhanced spyware and leaving the opposition's texts open to Regent Mariam and the other members of the Camarilla who sought access through her. So, when she went to make contact with them one night, hoping to gain the advantage by pretending to be new to the group, she had no worries. If the local anarchs wouldn't talk to her, there was another option. A new anarch had come to town, hanging out at various Kindred hotspots and organizing street races, and Asha hoped that the newcomer would simply assume that she was another one of the sect and speak to her openly. If her plan worked, obtaining the information she needed would be simple and quick.

Asha had only just arrived to the city less than a week ago, an emergency replacement for the Regent of the city's chantry, Lemuel Dominguez, who had been badly beaten by a group of unruly anarchs, falling into torpor. Her superiors had demanded a full investigation into why the Regent had traveled into anarch territory and the identities of his assailants.

Honestly, the story wasn't that complicated. It started with a missing novice. Dominguez had sent some of the apprentices out to search for her, but when they returned without the neonate, the Regent took it upon himself to make contact with the anarchs, believing that perhaps they had seen her. Unfortunately, his presence was not well-received, and he ended up in a physical altercation with more than one anarch goon. Asha felt that it was truly a cowardly act on the anarchs' part, pitting several against one. Dominguez was a very competent sorcerer, but his specialty was in scholarship, magical alphabets and lore. He was barely able to make it back to the chantry before collapsing in the foyer.

Of course, the missing novice returned on her own. She hadn't left the building at all, but had inadvertently walked into a pocket dimension created by a journeyman apprentice. The journeyman claimed that his leaving the portal open was simple oversight, but Asha suspected that it was no accident at all. How better to test out the stability of one's artificial dimension than to have a novice walk into and subsequently get lost in it? By the time the novice had found her way out, she was near frenzy, stressed to her limits and desperately hungry, but after feeding and taking some time to recover, she was no worse for wear, having returned to normal, with the exception of her newly-acquired phobia of walking down chantry hallways alone.

Now, Asha needed to complete the second part of her investigation: finding the culprits behind the attack on Regent Dominguez. However, once she had made contact with the other anarchs, and then R.C, she realized that obtaining her objective would not be so simple. The anarchs refused to talk about the attack with her, and the newcomer was sharper than they seemed. Despite the Toreador's easygoing demeanor, they were still aware enough to question her assumed identity.

It was a mistake on Asha's part, underestimating R.C, and now that her cover was blown, she would have to confront the anarch in a more direct manner. She suspected that they had no intention of submitting to her, and if it came to that, they would not make it easy. They were a fighter.

She had taken her captive to an abandoned garage, far enough away from the race to not be heard. Still, the fluorescent lights surrounding the meeting of racers, bettors, and spectators were visible in the far distance, and the sound of roaring engines reached the two faintly in the light breeze. However, in the immediate area, aside from the light in the garage, darkness surrounded them. Even the streetlights seemed to glow dimly, their light unable to penetrate the thick void. They shrank back towards their source, as though in fear.

R.C had backed into the far corner of the structure as Asha entered and stood in front of the only open exit. The Regent eyed the anarch before her, the two contrasting like a passionflower next to ash. R.C's facial piercings and chain link necklace glittered under the glow of the single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling, complemented by the blues and yellow-greens of their outfit.

Asha cleared her throat.

“As I'm sure you've figured out, I am not here to race, and the name I gave you was false,” she started.

“Yeah, no shit,” R.C said, crossing their arms.

“If you would allow me to introduce myself again?” The Tremere stood with her back straight, hands folded in front of her.

“Like I really have a choice?” Their tone flat, R.C faced down their captor with a defiant glare. Asha stared back, lips pursed, on her face an expression given only to the most pitiful of creatures.

“I suppose not,” she answered, continuing on to her second introduction. “My name is Asha Mariam. I am currently filling in for Regent Lemuel Dominguez after his encounter with a group of anarchs that left him incapacitated. Please understand that I have no intention of harming you. I'm just here to figure out what exactly happened to Regent Dominguez and find the perpetrators of this spineless attack.” Asha spoke softly, keeping her distance from the Toreador. “You anarchs have become more than just a nuisance lately. What would you say is behind this sudden increase in violence? Dominguez meant no harm when he crossed into anarch territory. Why start a fight when all he wanted to do was talk?”

“If anyone started anything, I'd suspect it was the cammy,” R.C spat, the agreeable smile wiped from their face. “I'm just here to race. I don't know shit about the anarchs' business, and I don't wanna know. I hang out, I race, I have fun, and then I leave. That's it.”

“Maybe you've heard rumors. About the perpetrators. That's all I really want to know.”

“Even if I knew, I tell you, and they're goners.”

Asha paused, shadows in her eyes, as she faced R.C.

“I know you're lying to me,” she murmured. “I truly don't want to hurt you, R.C. I just want names.”

“You can't hurt me. By the time you got over here, I'd have my blade in your neck.” R.C reached toward the knife on the back of their belt, freezing as Asha spoke.

“That would be a mistake. It would take only seconds for me to have you engulfed in flames,” she threatened.

“Not if I get to you first,” they said, grinning darkly. Before Asha could stop them, they briefly reached their right hand into the large pocket of their blue cargo pants, a wooden stake appearing in their grip. The Tremere stayed in place, eyeing the object in R.C's hand.

“You just keep that with you?” the Regent said flatly, moving her hands to her hips.

“Hey, doesn't hurt to be prepared, right?” R.C answered with a shrug.

Asha nodded, regarding the Toreador with calculating eyes as she went through scenarios in her head. She could attack: Raise her hand, a quick scratch to release the blood, establishing the connection to the element of fire, its symbol seemingly forming before her eyes, injecting her vitae into the stream as fuel, and then... ignition. To someone less skilled, it may have seemed like a fair number of steps to achieve the final product, but the Regent knew the spell intimately. The steps, she could execute consecutively, without thought, a rapid succession of cause and effect.

But, would it be the best action for her to take in this situation?

Meanwhile, R.C waited, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Their blood buzzed, adrenaline accumulating within them. Any sudden movement from the Tremere, and they would be on her in an instant.

Come on, they thought. Make your move. Just give me an excuse. No one dominated them against their will and got away with it.

The Beast clawed at them from the inside, creating butterflies in their stomach, a savage intensity building within them, showing in their eyes. They almost seemed to glow. Saliva filled their mouth, as though their Beast were a starving dog, a feast of meat set before it.

The Toreador waited in anticipation while the Tremere's cool demeanor masked her racing thoughts. She really should have had one of the apprentices take care of this business. Asha was far too old to be confronting anarchs herself. They could be temperamental and unpredictable. However, selecting the right apprentice for the job was difficult when she had hardly gotten to know them. She was sure that this would have been a good teaching moment for some of the novices, but obviously, it was too late for all of that now. She was here, and she would have to decide what to do.

Attacking R.C physically would be a bad idea, she concluded.

She would have to talk to them.

“Tell me,” the Regent started. “Why did you come here?” She hoped to throw her opponent off by asking a personal question.

“No offense, lady, but that's none of your business, plus you're hella uncomfy to talk to. You gonna let me go or what?” R.C held up the stake, ready to move.

The Regent didn't answer right away. Instead, she examined them. She looked them from head to toe, noting their stance, the tension in their muscles and face. She peeled away the mask, gazing deeper, under the hard shell.

Asha's face softened, pity in her eyes.

“Perhaps this is how the situation went with Dominguez, as well,” she considered.

R.C blinked.

“What?”

“I mean, the anger, the threats. This doesn't have to be an unpleasant exchange,” Asha said, trying to appeal to R.C.

“You're the one making it unpleasant,” they countered.

Taking a moment to carefully construct her next sentence, the Regent spoke softly.

“Is it usual for you to stay only a few nights in one place before taking off again?” she asked, concern in her voice. “Why is that? What are you running from?”

“I said, none of your—” R.C started, but a sudden chill ran up their spine, silencing them abruptly.

Asha sighed.

“You know, I deal with many Kindred much younger than myself. I teach them how to successfully navigate through unlife. One of the many things that can lead to our undoing is running from our demons, because no matter how fast or far you run, they will always catch up with you, and by that point, they've had time to grow. To become powerful. More powerful than you could ever be so long as you continue to flee.”

The Tremere's words resonated somewhere in R.C's mind, bringing forward memories of the life they left behind.

“It's complicated...” they started, trailing off into silence.

“We are predators, R.C. Only when we run do we become prey.” Asha's voice had become richer, smoother. Almost calming. “So, will you at least tell me where you come from? Surely, it won't hurt to share just a bit of yourself with me.”

R.C seriously considered her words.

“L.A.,” they said finally.

“What do you know,” answered the Regent. “I lived in L.A. as well. As a neonate.”

“For real?” asked R.C. Asha nodded, and they locked eyes, both sharing a secretive but genuine smile.

“I have fond memories of it,” Asha shared, her gaze growing wistful. “I still visit occasionally. Maybe I was there when you were. We were unlikely to meet, of course. Different circles and all.” She paused. “Were you familiar with the more prominent anarchs?”

“Uh, not so much.” R.C tugged at their turtleneck with their left hand, wooden stake forgotten in their right. “I was a—I mean, I...” Should they really tell her this? It wouldn't hurt, would it? “I got involved in a car theft ring. It was pretty great for a while, y'know? The thrill and all that, but it was dangerous at times. Things got a little too... real. It, uh, really drove a wedge between me and my partner.”

“I see.” Asha nodded sympathetically. “Is it your... partner you're running from?”

“Yeah.” Rowan. The name echoed through R.C's mind. “It just... it sucks that things went so bad, y'know?”

“A very common theme among Kindred, I'm afraid. Maybe there is something inherent in us that eventually sours all of our relationships.” The Regent projected genuine concern. “It's best to focus on the good times you had.”

“Honestly, I just can't. I try not to think about him at all.” They shook their head, as though trying to fling their thoughts from their mind.

“And how's that going?”

“Real shitty,” R.C answered, they and Asha briefly chuckling.

“Your demon,” the Regent warned. “Will only get stronger if you continue to run from it. I've seen it before. We have to turn and face them, and either accept their judgment or fight.”

Icy fear gripped R.C's heart. Face Rowan? And then what? Surely, it would end with one of them dead, and R.C had no desire for either outcome.

“Your care for your partner makes you fear confronting him,” the Tremere stated. R.C couldn't help but agree.

“Yeah.” R.C looked the Regent up and down, truly seeing her for the first time.

“There was a time when I wanted to run,” Asha admitted, her voice quiet.

“Really? Did you?” The Toreador's posture had relaxed significantly, and they idly reached their left arm behind their shoulder to play with their hair.

“No. However, I wasn't given the chance. I was made to take responsibility for my actions. My punishment, it was unpleasant, to say the least, but it was justice.” Her eyes connected with R.C's, a rueful smile on her face. “Do you believe in justice, R.C?” Asha asked.

“Of course.”

“So, why are you so against justice for Lemuel Dominguez?”

The name snapped R.C back to the reality of the current situation.

She's nice for a second, and you turn it into a damn therapy session, R.C scolded themself.

“I—dammit.” Anger built up within the Toreador's body, and they clenched the wooden stake, still present in their right hand. “You're good,” R.C admitted. “I, for real, believed you weren't a soul sucking Tremere for a second. You done playing me? I meant what I said. I'm not telling you a thing. Last time for you to bail before shit gets real.” They brandished the stake, the point facing Asha who still stood on the other side of the garage.

She glared at them with an expression that could only be read as treacherous.

“Or what?” she replied. “Do you really think you're going to get me with that stake? Think of the odds. If you're untrue in your aim, even just a bit, you'll be standing inches away from a very pissed off, non-paralyzed sorceress. I don't think you want to die your final death tonight. I know I don't.” She paused and then added, “and I probably won't.”

R.C realized that they truly despised this woman. So far, she had done nothing but lie and manipulate them. And she was so... arrogant about it too. Time to turn the tables. Physically, R.C had the advantage, and Asha knew it. That's why she had insisted on talking.

“Let's find out,” R.C hissed, a gleam in their eye. Activating Celerity, they crossed the vacant space and reached Asha in less than a second, thrusting the stake forward and jamming it into her...

She shifted, the stake entering just below her rib cage, and then stumbled backwards.

“Shit...” R.C froze, unsure of what action to take next as they both stared at each other, Asha gripping the stake protruding from her abdomen. She yanked it out with a grunt, clutching it in her right hand as blood dripped from the point onto the cement floor.

“Uh,” an awkward smile formed on R.C's face in the silence that followed as they searched for the correct words that would help them out of this increasingly sticky situation. Unfortunately, the only thing their mind could conjure was : “Sorry.”

A few more seconds passed, Asha seemingly stunned, before she moved, hurling the stake at R.C's chest. The Toreador dodged it right before the Regent started towards them. They clearly had no intention of waiting around to be roasted by an angry Tremere, and activated Celerity once again, sidestepping Asha and exiting the garage. Leaving the light of the building, the night seemed to engulf them as they ran. They picked up speed, aiming to get back to the crowd at the race, as the Tremere followed, falling increasingly behind. A blossom of blue flame erupted to R.C's right. The sudden heat only motivated them to move faster as they swerved towards the left. They then veered right, more fire to their left side altering their course. Only after dodging the third fountain of flame did they realize the Regent's intent. They were being herded straight towards a circle of blood smeared on the dark asphalt. R.C tried to stop, but it was too late.

As soon as the Toreador entered it, a ring of sigils appeared around its circumference. R.C smacked into the circle's edge, as though hitting a solid wall. They fell back to the ground, blood running from their nose before they were able to direct their vitae away from the injury, and ran their tongue along their teeth, hoping they hadn't broken any. As for the pain in their face, arms, and knees, there wasn't much they could do for it, especially right now as Asha caught up to them and approached the invisible cage.

She flashed them a mocking smile, pacing the edge of the circle as her hand moved to the hole in her abdomen. “Guess luck's on my side, tonight,” she said, wiping blood from the open wound with her sleeve. The Regent stopped and folded her arms, her voice taking on a more serious tone. “Now, why don't you tell me what I want to know? All I need are the names of those who were involved in the assault of Regent Dominguez.”

“I'm not telling you shit, cammy.” R.C rose to their feet, determined to keep up the fight, despite being trapped.

“So, you admit you do know something,” Asha surmised. “What is your allegiance to these Kindred? You arrived here but a few nights ago, correct? Surely you haven't found solid allies in that short of a time. So, why protect them?”

“'Cause we don't give in to bullies like you.”

Asha paused, considering her words before speaking again.

“Bullies,” she repeated. “The Kindred you protect ganged up on a member of my clan, several against one. His arm was torn off, head cracked, bones broken.” Her voice grew more intense as she continued to speak. “He is now in torpor after being mercilessly beaten with no provocation. So, tell me, in this situation, which one is the bully?”

“I don't snitch to cammies, period,” R.C answered. “You done asking me the same question over and over again? 'Cause I'm about zonked from all that running, and all I wanna do now is get outta here.”

The Tremere's eyes narrowed.

“Perhaps a different approach, then. You've already breached my mind...” Asha started.

“Yeah, gnarly trick you pulled on me with that hallway thing,” R.C said flatly.

“...So, it wouldn't be inappropriate for me to do the same to you.”

R.C's eyes widened.

“Oh, come on, I didn't even mean to do that. I just wanted to view your aura. You're the one who pulled me in!”

“Doesn't matter. Anyway, you practically project your thoughts. I won't have to go far to find the ones I need.” Despite R.C's protests, Asha breached the barrier of their mind, taking care not to delve in too deep. The information she needed would be towards the surface, the subject fresh among the Toreador's thoughts. She came to a memory. A bar, faces, all bragging about how they defeated the Tremere who had trespassed into anarch territory. Asha could view the image, but she received no names.

Another thought came to the forefront, a strong one. Asha detected longing, regret. A name: Maverick. It bounced through R.C's mind and was clearly something they thought of often. Only after further examining the thought did the Regent realize what she had captured.

If R.C truly didn't know the names of Dominguez's assailants, then maybe they would be willing to find out. For the right price, of course.

“You're not just running from someone. You're searching for someone, too. Your sire... what's his name? Maverick Sutton,” Asha started. R.C suddenly stilled, their eyes darting to hers. “You're here looking for him, aren't you?”

“I—” R.C stopped themself from confirming her question, but their body cues gave the answer away immediately.

“I see.” Asha stepped partially into the circle, seemingly unaffected by the invisible wall. “Your sire wasn't too happy about your decision to become a car thief, was he?” The Regent paused, noting the guilty expression on the Toreador's face. She grinned thoughtfully. “What if I could give you information on his whereabouts?” She took another step forward.

As soon as the Tremere crossed the barrier, R.C didn't hesitate. Throwing all caution to the wind, they leapt forward, grabbing the Regent by the front of her sweater.

“What do you know?” they hissed, pulling her towards them. “Tell me!” R.C held Asha in place, lips curled back and fangs bared. Their sire's face flashed before them, followed by a cascade of emotions. Anger. Regret. Frustration. So far, their quest to find their sire had been fruitless, but now the Tremere standing right in front of them claimed to know the information for which they had desperately searched.

Asha cleared her throat, gaining R.C's attention. Clearly displeased, the Regent stared down at the Toreador's hands as they gripped the fabric of her black sweater.

“First,” she said calmly, the slight edge in her voice betraying the rage beneath her words. “Unhand me, please.”

R.C came to their senses, letting go of Asha's sweater and stepping back.

“Right, I just, uh—what do you know?” R.C repeated in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “About Maverick?”

Asha straightened her sweater before answering.

“I have many contacts in various cities. You give me the names of Regent Dominguez's assailants, and I will give you all the information I can find on your sire. Perhaps I'll even be able to locate him for you.”

R.C swallowed, a sensation building up inside of them that they hadn't felt in a long time.

Could it really be? Hope.

“I—” they said, hesitating. “I know who they are, but not their names. I can find out, though.” If they gave up the names of the Kindred who attacked the Regent, the anarchs would discover R.C's treachery. They would turn on them. Asha would kill the ones they named. Still, this was a chance to finally find their sire. Wasn't that what truly mattered to them? “Okay,” R.C answered, finally. “I'll do it, but I want info first. Then I'll give you names.”

There was a pause as an overly sweet smile bloomed onto Asha's face.

“Of course,” she said, her voice taking on a pleasant, almost motherly, quality. However, soon her tone dropped, a heavy darkness settling in the air. “But, we bind this agreement in blood.” The two stood facing each other under the moonless sky, Asha eyeing R.C expectantly. “Your knife,” she clarified, as the Toreador stared back at her in confusion.

“Oh,” they breathed, slipping the knife from their belt and offering it to Asha. The Regent held it by the handle, running the blade along her palm. Blood swelled from the cut, the flow controlled at her will. R.C took the knife from her, cutting their own hand before wiping the blade on the side of their pants and slipping it back into their belt.

Asha held out her hand, and R.C gripped it in return, both feeling the sensation of their vitae mingling. R.C knew that whatever kind of deal this was, there had to be some sort of trick to it, but it was all worth it, right? To find Maverick.

The Tremere locked eyes with R.C, iridescent pools flowing in her dark irises.

“I am so glad that we were able to come to a resolution. Our agreement is sealed in blood,” the Regent recited. “Let it be so.”

#wodmeetcute #vampire the masquerade #vtm #world of darkness #wodmeetcute 2025 #OC Asha Mariam #OC:R.C #tremere #toreador #vtm tremere #vtm toreador #essie writing

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calyshine · 2 months ago

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AMAZING!! Such a fun collab <3