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[[if you don't like this idea, disregard the cursing.]] Clad in her favorite jeans and black v-neck t-shirt with a pair of rhinestone encrusted flip-flops on her feet, Tarot walked down the grimy sidewalk, Beltane's black satin leash draped over the crook of her elbow. Her white arms were covered by the sleeves of a red trench coat, open, untied and billowing out behind her in a swirl of autumnal winds, dying leaves and street rubbish. Her crimson hair was down around her jaw, accented by a red-embroidered black headband. Unlike usual, her emerald eyes were devoid of heavy black makeup, today accented by the barest stripe of golden glitter. Fairy and Hound padded alongside each other, taking comfort from each other's company. The emerald normally nestled in the valley between her breasts was proudly displayed today, danging from a chain on the bared space of her chest. As they continued their romp, Tarot begin to scent the air. Beltane followed suit, growling quietly under his breath. They caught the odor at the exact same moment. Mister Balazarriwhaty. However you said it. What kind of nationality was he, anyways? Scandbritimoldorusso? She had no idea. Etymology was he strong suit but she... couldn't bring herself to think hard enough. Zethy's blood, bright and strong. It was an odor someone had tried to cleanse but failed. The smell of a misdeed always remained. Tarot followed the lead, up the curb of the street and into an industrial building. Ugh. There was only one place this could be. A cop shop. Police station. Guardroom. Whatever the hell it was; she didn't like it. It stank of the blood of immortals, the blood of oddballs and the blood of mystics and... the odor of mortals. There was nothing but humans working here. Fools. She snapped the door handle open, forcing her entry. The space was the usual sort of industrial building. "Hi, um, I hate cops in general... and you're a mortal which means you're inferior." Tarot felt her vampiric growl rising in her throat, an expression she normally strove to hide. "How the hell do you think you can run a city overridden by beasts?" She glowered around the empty space, shoving a desk clear of it's papers. "NOT WELL, THAT'S HOW! VAMPIRES ARE JUST AS NICE- well, occasionally- AS I AM!" Tarot pulled her gem from it's chain holding it in the air above the desk that reeked most strongly of Zeth's blood and began to swing it back and forth, drawing a pattern in the air."So, you know, I curse you. For just sucking in general." She hesitated, tracing the symbols of her curse into the desktop. "And for harming a friend and former guardian." Her damage done, she whistled for Beltane- glaring back into the station's space before slipping out, unseen by the cameras and passersby. "Tata, governmental officials." [[author's note: yes, Seth's been cursed. With what? Ohohohohohoho. His injuries will heal and his blood will cease flowing but he'll feel the pain of every wound, physical or psychological, forevermore. And that applies to previous instances. So, erm, yeah. Appease the fairy ^_^ and it just gets worse with time, you know, with arthritis and stuffs. And then there's the fact that even nightmares and dreams can get excruciatingly painful o_O please, if you don't like the idea, disregard the previous and just yell at me.]] |