Need to Get Away (Open)

[Michelle Belmont]

Nighttime in Hollowhill Grove was not safe for anyone, especially a human. The risk of running into a vampire or werewolf was exponentially increased, so not only did said human have to worry about being a vampire's next meal, but he or she also had to worry about being eaten, bitten, or scratched by a werewolf. Even other humans were a danger, especially intoxicated ones who stumbled out of bars, looking for easy prey. By most, if not all criteria, Hollowhill Grove was certainly not a pleasant place to reside. Sure, it may have been better during the day, since the supernatural creatures were less likely to be roaming, but where was the fun of staying indoors when adventure was around every corner and down every alley, right? Some people may have enjoyed the thrill of putting their lives in a mild degree of danger. Others stayed inside, making sure their windows and doors were locked tight. There were some, however, that struggled to find a place to hide from the beings that lurked within the shadows.

The wind whipped through her hair as she ran out of the alley, looking around with frantic green eyes. She had to run; she just had to. Not only had the awful visions pulled her from her sleep, but a knocking on her door had disturbed her greatly. At first, she thought it was the night guard, making sure that she was alright. When she opened the door, however, she found that no one was there. At first, she just retreated into her apartment, hiding under her covers until the knocking came again. She had drawn a butter knife from the kitchen and slipped it somewhere where she could hide it and not have to worry about it hurting her. She had heard a thump behind her and fled from her apartment, snatching her keys before slamming the door shut and running as fast as she could. She was sure that the knife had fallen out onto the asphalt a while back, since she had heard a loud clattering sound behind her almost as soon as she had run several feet from her building. The fear coursing through her made her run faster and faster, blurring her peripheral vision. She did not hear anyone who might have been trying to get her attention. Her thoughts were the same mantra, over and over. I have to get away. He'll get me if I don't keep running...

The poor young woman had darted back into an alley to pause for a moment to breathe. The panic was still present in her seafoam green eyes that glittered, even in the dark shadows of the alley. She hoped and prayed that no one was around and that she would be able to breathe in peace. A sound startled her and she backed up slowly, her shoulders hunching. She felt something solid bang against her back and she yelped, whimpering quietly as she slid down the wall and onto the cement. She placed her arms above her head, her entire body trembling as she did so. She continued to whimper a little, the sound absorbed by the brick and mortar around her. She clamped her eyes shut, trying to shop the soft noises coming from her throat and the trembling that had a hold on her curled up form. After a few moments, she opened her eyes again and looked through the small space between her arms, her green eyes clearly displaying her fear and terror. Her small and soft voice seemed to tremble with her entire body as she spoke.

"P-please don't hurt me. I-I'll do anything. Just p-please, leave me alone...

[DOMINICK CAVANAUGH]

Darkness rippled up in front of the woman, a loathsome, horrid figure of smoky blackness, tinged with frozen blue radiating from its shrouded eyes, left arm, and somewhere on its back, the only bit of its nightmarish face visible beneath the low-drawn cowl of inky blackness being the sharp, skeletal lower jaw. Hungry teeth of vicious points lined the gaunt mouth as it leered down at the girl, hissing, a snarling and gutteral sound of unholy fury that shuddered from the intangible form. The head cocked to the right slightly as if somehow curious.

Then it's left arm extended from within the umbral haze. Sharp, blocky runes glowed the same frigid blue just above the bony appendage from the wrist to a third of the way up the bicep area, trailing tendrils of cold cerulean through the wafting smog in which the wraith drifted. Tentatively, with an ethereal aloofness, the sharply clawed hand slid through the shadow toward the girl, the bony fingers twitching just slightly as they neared. The temperature surrounding the shade was nearly freezing as it seemed to inspect the female calmly, a bizarre kind of curiosity coming over its countenance and tinting the way it moved.

"Woman.... You have... Brought insult to me..." The words shuddered out in a deep, almost crystalline resonance, a rime-touched tone of hollow ice and frozen malice, nearly a hiss of a whisper echoing through chasms of frost. "My wrath... shall be complete... absolute... and terrible."

That sounded like something a pissed off wraith would say, right?

[Branton Applegate]

What was the point of having human bars open so late at night? The nighttime was a time when Vampires roamed freely, and Werewolfs could change into their bestially ugly flea bitten faces. Yet, people kept going out into the night, walked into bar and got completely shit faced wasted. Honestly they were nothing more than easy picking for whatever predator lurked in the night. Although, Branton had heard a rumor that if a blood-sucker drank from an intoxicated human. They themselves would in turn shit face wasted. So maybe that was plan? To get so wasted that no vampire in Hollowhill Grove would want to stick their pointy fangs into you. "Oi, I'm over thinking this." he complained. Muttering the words under his breath as he looked around the old fashion american bars. The brunette had managed to choose the biggest redneck hole-in-the-wall in the entire city. Which the irony had not been lost on him.

However, as constricting his being here was, Branton did have a reason that didn't have to do with booze. He was flat broke after having to pay for his rent and other expenses, and he needed some money to help stock up on anti-supernatural materials. Cracking his knuckles, Branton began to look around the room for the easiest targets. Then proceeded to spark up a conversation with these people. All the while sneaking into their pockets, emptying their wallets then putting them back before they had noticed. Once he had his fill he quickly, yet casually left the bar before anyone noticed that they had been robbed. 

Once outside, the emerald eyed lad checked over his shoulder one last time to see if anyone was following him. After he had verified there was no one behind him he gave his head a soft shake as he started to walk. Trying to clear his head off the memories of dreaded country music, and conversation about southern America. Letting loose a sigh he reached into his back pocket, and pulled out the wad of cash he had collected. Carefully counting it as he made his way around the corner when whoosh! Something with bright pink hair, and a huge bust ran right past him. Blinking a few times in confusion it took a few moments for what had happened to register. As he looked over to check what was going on he slide the money back into his pocket. Giving it a soft pat to make sure it was secure before he did anything.  

What Branton saw wouldn't exactly be called normal, but ever since he moved into this condemned city, he had pretty much thrown normal out the window. Not that he was exactly ever normal to begin with, but hey whatever. Now, Branton was left with two choices. he could do the stupid heroic thing and help the big booby lady, or he could the completely logical thing and walk away. And at this point he was leaning pretty close to the latter. He was just about to turn around when he heard the bloody ghost start speaking. "Oh for the love of god." he muttered as he clenched his fist in frustration at his own morality. Letting loose another sigh he hurriedly made his way over the shade, and the girl.  The moment he set foot in the ally he shouted "Ore draconis, adolebit terram!" Form his hands a fast deadly stream of fire jetted from his hands at the shade from the side. So that they would strike it, and only fly past the girl. The normally yellow flames having turned blue from the amount of soul power he had poured into it. Beads of sweat rolling down the frame of his face. 

[Michelle Belmont]

The young woman's back sliding against the wall had surely put a hole in her pajama top. It did, as a matter of fact, because she could feel the brick against her back. She let out a soft yelp as she felt pain signals fire up her back and into her brain. She could not tell if she was bleeding, but one thing was for sure; if she saw the blood, she knew that she would probably start screaming again. A black haze seemed to float in front of her and she started to tremble even more, if it was possible. A guttural sound reached her and she squealed loudly, clasping her fair hands over her sensitive ears. The ethereal creature slowly rising out of the ground made her slam her back against the wall again, causing a loud scream to rip from her throat. She covered her ears as the... thing spoke to her and shook her head, continuing to scream while tears gathered in her eyes. She was going to escape the horrors that Aiden put her through, just to be murdered by a ghost she did not even know. Someone surely put me here purely just to torture me... she thought woefully, feeling the tears fall down her face as she clamped her eyes shut.

She heard another voice echo through the alley and looked up, her green eyes wide once more. She could not see who or what was talking; all she could see were two piercing, emerald colored things. She presumed they were eyes, but she could not be sure, since the other figure was farther away and shrouded in the shadows. She felt heat rush past her and she shakily stood up, running away from the flames and the ghost that had scared the ever-loving daylights out of her. As she came closer to the pop of color in the dark, she began to see an outline of a figure. Uncharacteristically, she darted behind the figure, whimpering rather loudly as she wrapped her arms around herself. She started to mumble 'no' over and over again and shaking her head, her pink hair whipping around behind her. She started to back away from the other person, mumbling an apology. She did not look where she was walking, however and ran into the corner of the wall opposite the one she had slid her back against earlier. Tears dripped out of her eyes and fell onto the pavement as she continued to whimper. She hugged her knees to her chest, looking up at the unfamiliar, emerald-eyed figure before her.

"T-thank you... M-may I ask you a question though? W-who a-are you and w-what was t-that t-thing...?"

[DOMINICK CAVANAUGH]

Holy god in hell that hurt.

Despite that he was mostly intangible in this form, being seen required skirting the line just enough for fire and the like to still scorch like a bitch, and damn was Nick toasty. He was also suddenly regretting picking this particular place and time to sate his boredom on some hapless woman trudging about at night.

Who the hell did that in this place anyway? Granted, he hadn't been here two weeks, but even he knew that was a bad idea.

Nonetheless, the torrential gout of flame poured over him and peeled away what little of him was physically present, washing over his form and searing him before he became fully incorporeal, avoiding a good portion of the inferno as it passed through his now entirely intangible form. Even here, shunted into the Shadow, he could seek the smoke writing off of his vicious form for a moment before it coalesced into his already smoggy appearance. He turned his blazing cerulean gaze to the intruder and surveyed his distorted, warbling form, barely a silhouetted impression in this realm, and saw behind him the form of the female that he had originally decided to haunt a bit. The two indistinct figures almost melded into one to his vision, a single, albeit frighteningly haphazard, humanoid shape set against the vaporous Shadow. And people said he was creepy looking. He took a moment to let the blaze settle and the pain numb in the cold embrace of the deathly realm before remanifesting.

Shadows warped in the alley, twisting as they bent to entwine about his emerging form, laces of frozen blue light threading through the growing mass of darkness. Feet emerged, booted and rather boring, followed by the torn, baggy jeans that Nick wore. His high-collared blue-black jacket fluttered down behind as more and more of the somewhat elaborate adornments emerged: chains and belts clasped somewhat randomly along his legs and waist, two necklaces and a spiked choker around his thin, pale neck that dangled over a shredded black shirt (beneath which was obviously another garment), silver cuff earrings in each ear framing a long, elegant, and frankly handsome face. Beneath the sleeves of his coat could be seen the ends of fingerless leather gloves, and as he fully manifested, bright tousled blond hair and all, the blistering cold blue tendrils slithered up his left arm and up the back of his coat, vanishing. In short, what stepped forth from the receding shadow was some guy who was much to into rock culture between the eighties and now. He offered a nervous, though friendly, smile to the two.

"Alright, alright, geez. I'll leave her alone. Just having a bit of fun is all." He chuckled a little, holding his hands up in surrender, half a joke and half genuine. He had to wonder, though, why people were so uptight about this kind of thing. Doesn't anyone go to haunted houses anymore? Really, it was kind of the same thing, at least to him.

[Branton Applegate]

Flametongue; it was a personal favorite of Branton's, and he knew it's destructive capabilities well. The moment the series of words left his mouth, and he had thrown his hands out in-front of him. He felt part of his essence leaving his body through his arms. Weaving together into a stream of blue fire which washed over whatever-that-ugly-thing-was. The glow of the fiery spell being reflected on his handsome face as he piercing emerald orbs watched as the wrath was seemly destroyed. "That wasn't so bad now was it?" Gesturing over to where the ghost was he looked over his shoulder at the young girl while the dying flames crackled in the background. A mischievous smirk having grown on his face at his seemly great accomplishment. It wasn't exactly everyday that someone gets the bragging rights to say they destroyed a ghost. Something that should have clearly been seen as impossible.

"Uh?" He asked in response to the girl's question before it finally donned on him. "Oh um... How do I put this?" Muttering under his breath. He crossed his arms against his chest, lowered his head, and began to tap his temple. Trying to recall something from a memory. The exact word was right on the tip of his tongue, but atlas whenever he tried to say it the words kept getting stuck in his mouth. Frustrated he punched the palm of his hand, and forced the words out. Making the sentence sound strained as he forced his excitement levels to lower. "A ghost! It's kinda like a ghost." He said with a 'fucking finally tone'. Rolling his eyes at his own speech impediment before he noticed how frighten the girl really was.

Seeing the tears fall from such a pretty girl's face was enough to make even Branton feel awkward. Biting his lips he mauled over what he should do before he finally just giving up and sighing. "Come on beautiful." His voice becoming more soothing, he lowered his hand to her to help pull her up. "It's alright now. The mean ghost thing is gone." Then as if one cue to prove him wrong the shadows seemed to danced about the alley. Collecting in the middle where they fused together while eerily blue lights laced around it. Ultimately creating a person with a very bad sense of fashion from like the eighties. Taking this into consideration with the way he introduced himself something about their newly found friend screamed over dramatic.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Speaking up Branton stepped in front of the girl defensively, but at the time where he could easily run away if things turned sour. "What made you think any part of this was brilliant?" He asked in his strange manner of speaking as he pulled a flask off his belt. The gasoline within whisking around while his bright green hues glanced around the alley for seemly a way out. Although the lack of lighting made it difficult to see, but somehow he was able to make out the shape of a pipe as he eyes glazed over it. He just hoped that it was made of iron before he settled his sights back on the person in front of them. "It's bad enough we've got vampires, and the doggies to worry about, but now we have to add jackass shades now to?" Branton was really trying his hardest to stay serious, but with the side effects of spell weaving still affecting him. The amplified mischievous nature of the brunette had it extremely hard. With a smirk on his face and a trickster's glint in his eye he lowered his hand to the girl again. "You can still stand right?"

[Michelle Belmont]

The fire streaming from the young man's body confused the young woman for a moment before she remembered that he had chanted words before the fire had started. She looked at him in surprise before looking down at her fists, which were curled against the pavement that she sat on. She could feel the pain in her back, though she could only imagine the pain that her attacker was in at the moment. A direct fire attack could surely cause bad second degree and even third degree burns and, for a brief moment, she was tempted to stand and ask the blonde if he was alright. However, the sight before her eyes made her whimper and shrink back against the wall even more, shaking her head as if to deny the reality. Long locks of pink hair were trapped in her eyelashes, so her view of the smoky-looking figure was obscured. She managed to will herself to lift her hand to brush the hairs from her eyes in time to see darkness congealing into what seemed to be a semi-physical state, if such a thing was possible. The terror inside her increased, but her voice did not try to rise about a soft whimper, like she had expected it to. She was expecting a scream to tear through her, but, she simply stayed put. It was like her body was not listening to her mind, despite her mind being the control center of the body. 

Since the ghost-person-thing was shouting at the young man who had saved her, she could not help hearing his statement. The look on her face became indignant and slightly annoyed. All of that, just have a fun? What a jerk... she thought to herself, quickly repressing her anger by closing her eyes tight. The tone of the nearby young man's voice was slightly confused, as if he had not heard her correctly. She was going to repeat her questions again, in case her soft voice had gotten lost in the roar of the flames. His response was a little slow, as if he had forgotten what to call the creature that had nearly attacked her. She waited patiently until he found the right word and started trembling when he said it. G-ghosts? Oh great... The mere thought of the dead haunting the world made her clutch her left wrist involuntarily, visions of blood dancing before her eyes despite there being none actually present. N-No, please-! She let out a soft gasp as her eyelashes fluttered and she saw a hand extended to her in the darkness. Without thinking, she took it and rose from the pavement, feeling a slight stinging in her back. The young man's voice was soothing and gentle, much like her father's had once been. The memory made her swallow thickly, but she managed to keep her composure, despite the tears continually rolling out of her eyes and down her cheeks on their own.

Before she knew it, the young man who had come to her aid was standing in front of her, defending her once again. She looked at her left wrist, which she could not see clearly in the dark; however, she knew that the scars were there. She would have liked to help the emerald-eyed stranger out, but she had no way of properly cutting herself to use the god-awful magic she had been taught. She hated it more than anything in the world, but Aiden had been right; she needed to protect herself in such a horrid place. I just wish I didn't have to do it by such awful means, she thought to herself, clenching her left fist. The young man seemed to pull some kind of container out of this pocket, though she could not be sure what was in it because she could not see very well. She thought she heard some kind of liquid swish around and her green eyes widened. What's in that thing, anyway? she thought frantically, though she did not have time to ask any questions. This time, there was a hand by her side and she looked questioningly at the bright-eyed young man before nodding slowly and putting her hand gingerly in his. She was ready to pull it back, just in case he did not want her to touch him. Of course, that was not to say that she was not uncomfortable; on the contrary, she was quite afraid to trust a stranger so much, but she knew she had to. Otherwise, the results would be disastrous. Why am I so weak?

"Y-yeah. Why?"

[DOMINICK CAVANAUGH]

Nick's attempt at a disarming, jovial expression quickly fell flat at the emerald-eyed guy before him, noting how hard this guy had to try to be the knight in shining armor type. His own vibrant blue gaze narrowed as an eyebrow lofted. Jackass shade? The nerve! Does this bastard have ANY idea what it's like to be dead and have nothing to do?

No. Of course he doesn't.

"I never said it was brilliant, but you can drop the attitude and the big bad savior bit. I'd never actually hurt someone without reason." The severity of his tone was plenty to indicate that there wasn't the slightest touch of falsehood about his words. Where his tenor words were joking and chuckling before, he now spoke with a firm, neigh threatening inflection. He didn't begrudge the guy for thinking that he was dangerous or violent. I mean, given how he had been acting with the girl before, there wouldn't be any reason to think otherwise. There was no way to fully disconnect himself from the implied accusation though, so he was still salty about it. 'Don't get pissed, he doesn't know better..." he reminded himself. He put on a smile again after a deep breath and calmed down. Past the fact that he took the deluge of fire directly to his ethereal face, he had to admit that the spell was powerful and well executed, and he was visibly impressed.

The undead's eyes flickered to the container in the guy's hand, and hearing the sloshing of some as yet unknown fluid, he assumed that it was meant as some kind of threat, or a warning perhaps. He took the hint and stepped a little bit back, relaxing his body and tucking his fingers in his pockets as his weight shifted to one leg. A deep breath later, he looked passive and undaunting, obviously having no intention of fighting and no desire for this to escalate unnecessarily. A part of him knew why someone would react like this. Hell, he even agreed to an extent; he was a little more dramatic on the terrifying bit than he had originally intended. Once this had settled, he'd gladly apologize to the girl and let her know that, while some of the assholes that stalk the streets at night would make a snack out of her, he couldn't be further from them. At least knowing that one supernatural guy was "on their side," so to speak, and a Shade, no less. Maybe he was biased, but frankly, he though of his kind as having a hell of an edge against the rest. Nick's eyes slowly slip to meet the girl's behind angry fire spewer. Offering her a gentle smile and a look that, hopefully, lets her know that he meant no harm to her continues to mean no harm, and frankly thought she was kind of cute. After the brief glance he rebounds his eyes to the guy.


Hell, he was pretty cute too, past the trying too hard to be a hero part. 

[Branton Applegate]

It pained Branton, to see the terrified expression that haunted the young girl's face take such a turn for the worst when he mentioned ghosts. It really tugged at his fading humanity, so in response his own soften as he extended his hand to the girl, and spoke to her soothingly. While his hand grasps around her's a single thought passed through the brunette's head. Such fragile things we humans are... Pulling the pink haired beauty to her feet as gently as humanly possible before subconsciously running the back of his hand against her face. His nimble fingers wiping away her glistening tears, and gave the girl a soft reassuring nod to go along with the words he had given. It was funny. How the very hands that shot fire with the intent to destroy something he didn't understand were now being used to comfort one of his own kind. 

Now, there he was standing in front of the some random stranger with a half-a-mind to protect her while he argued with a ghost. Something that Branton didn't know existed until roughly ten minutes ago. And for what? Just because there was a damsel in distress, or distressing damsel? He might have lived with the supernatural, but this was no Fairy Tale. The chances of any of them not getting a happy ending was very real. However, not even that was enough to get the young man down. A sly smirk grew on his face as he watched the spirit thing's happy expression fell flat, and the look in his eyes changed. "You know, they say actions speak louder than words." The smirk on his face growing. "And oh man! Your's were like a battle cry." Chuckling he shrugged once more. His thumb swirling over the top of the lid before putting it back on his hip. Showing that he was agreeing to put all hard feelings aside. 

"Oh right!" He chimed as he looked back at the young girl. "Well you see... If the odd chance occurred that we needed to run away. I much rather you be able to run opposed to me having to carry you." It had sounded blunt, but there was hidden meaning beneath those words. What the brunette really meant was that if she wouldn't run then he wasn't carrying her. That would only slow him down. "Plus, you look extremely heavy with those milk jugs on your chest."

Looking back to their newly found guest Branton took a moment to look him up and down again. Before his glowing emerald hues ultimately met his vibrant blues. "I never believed in afterlife, religion or God." He said while he shoved his hands into his pockets. "But here you are, and even now I still don't know if I believe." Letting out a sigh. He glanced over his shoulder at the girl to make sure she wasn't doing anything to stupid, returning his sights to the shade. Just in enough time to see that he was trying to give the girl a friendly smile. Rolling his eyes he took a step to the side to give him a clearer shot, but he didn't say anything. Choosing to remain silent so the girl could have a chance to speak for herself. 

[Michelle Belmont]

The tender touch of another human being was a strange thing to the young woman, who seemed to be terrified despite the stranger's kindness. Deep down, she knew it was too good to be true. No one did something for nothing; life in general had taught her that. The hand on her face made her squirm a little, but she tried to keep her breathing even; the least she could do was humor him since he had basically saved her. His hands were not unpleasantly rough, unlike other hands that had touched her before, but she still did not like it. It reminded her too much of what she had gone through and she would rather have not thought about those awful years that were stained red. She smiled at the young man shyly, as if to say thank you before turning her thoughts back to the situation at hand. She was not really aware of the blonde creature's true intentions, so she could not be sure if he was going to hurt her or not. She hoped that the ghost-person-thing would simply go away, since he seemed to have gotten his jollies by busting her chops. She felt something metaphorically piercing through her and she looked up to see blue eyes trained on her and a gentle smile flashed in her direction. She was not sure how to react except to give him a small grimace in response, not saying a word so that she did not upset the eerie quiet that seemed to have settled between the three of them like a blanket of new-fallen snow.

She nodded slowly as the emerald-eyed young man spoke to her. Just because she was terrified did not mean that she was unable to run. Besides, she probably would have not wanted him to carry her anyway. She was slowly learning how to be self-reliant, so she probably would have requested for him not to carry her. She was a big girl and wanted to take care of herself, except when she was being attacked by an unknown assailant; then, she would certainly appreciate some help. She scratched the back of her neck a little, blushing at the mention of her rather large chest. She looked down and her eyelashes fluttered. Was her chest really that large and she did not realize it? She poked lightly at it before shrugging and looking back at the emerald eyed young man. She gave him a weak smile before giggling softly and scratching the back of her neck again. "Well, they're not that heavy to me, but maybe it's because they're attached to me, hehe... But I guess I could loose a little weight." She was suddenly overcome by self-consciousness and bit her lip, pressing her index fingers together. Once again, an awkward silence fell between them until she coughed a little, covering her mouth with a clenched fist. Her sea foam green eyes passed between the two young men who seemed to be staring at her and she felt a blush crawl further across her face. The silence was making her uncomfortable and she started fidgeting a little, making her nervousness all the more obvious. After some time of just looking at both of the young men with blinking, green eyes, she tilted a little more to see the blonde figure more before speaking to him.

"D-did you think it was funny to scare someone half to death, huh?"she squeaked, placing her balled up fists on her hips. Of course, it would be hard-pressed to find someone who took such a young and innocent looking young lady seriously when she was angry. Nevertheless, she tried her best to look stern, threatening, or maybe a mixture of both. After a moment, she let out a puff of breath and muttered to herself, wondering what the hell she was doing. Without a knife, she was defenseless against both of them. It did not seem like they wanted to hurt her, but she was not sure. Honestly, she could never be sure; trust was not something that was built easily for her unless it was a matter of life-or-death. She looked at the emerald eyed young man, who had stepped aside to let her speak and gave him a small grin of appreciation. "T-thank you for helping me out. If I would have had my knife, I would have been okay... But I seem to have dropped it when I-" She shook her head, some of her pink hair sliding from behind her ears and back to embrace the sides of her face and get caught in her eyelashes. The corner of her lips twitched and she placed her hair over one shoulder so it would not get in the way. She did not have to explain herself to these two! Or at least, not if they did not ask, and they had not, so why was she bothering to prattle on? She bit her lip after the awkward pause in her sentence. No one needed to know why a young woman was running around a rather evil city in the middle of the night in only a pajama top and pants. She was safe for now, and that was what mattered, right?

[DOMINICK CAVANAUGH]

This had to be the part that Nick hated the most. After a good haunting, a laugh, a fun little scream or two, it always boiled down to the explanations and justifications. And what was the point? It wasn't like any of them believed him anyway, so frankly, explaining anything was like pulling teeth out of a squid: messy, sticky, and squid don't have teeth, so it's really just a pointless waste. He usually considered it a worthy price to pay, at least, for a bit of a chuckle and the rush he got from freaking the living clean the hell out. That was it really; it was the rush that he was so fond of. The terror, the heart pounding fear, the mind numbing horror, all of these things he couldn't rightly feel anymore, and his only chance to experience them was vicariously through the living. When he terrorized a person in good fun, he got a chance to enjoy the feeling of being in a haunted house again, or a good Halloween scare.

He thought that was how everyone else was too. Apparently not.

Nick contemplated arguing more, but if there were a point to it, he couldn't see it. He had said his piece, the pretty boy was putting his flask of whatever away, and no one was setting anyone else on fire right now. They didn't believe him, but to say that he didn't care would have been an understatement. They just couldn't understand. Like a scolded teenager, Nick's cerulean orbs rolled in his head as the two nagged at him, still complaining despite the fact that no one was hurt. The best that the shade could offer was a brow lofted into a painfully obvious 'really?' sort of expression. The lecture was just annoying now.

"Yeah, I can't tell you about God or an afterlife," he started, glad that the conversation shifted, if only slightly, away from the other two yammering like he was their child. "I don't really think this counts, honestly, but I'd keep not believing if I were you. I can definitely confirm that I'm definitely dead, though, so there's that." It was about this time that he heard the girl chirping about something. Her posture, her stance, the indignation, the huffing... He couldn't help but chuckle a little bit. She was trying too hard now too.

"Actually, I thought it was pretty hilarious." The undead's attention shifted to the girl as he continued laughing. It was a genuine, hearty laugh, full of mirth and echoing with a glee that was, without a doubt, empty of malevolence. He really did just think this was fun. "When you're dead and wandering around a city you've only been in for a week and a half, unable to feel much of anything without external influence, you tend to cling on to the little things." Adjusting his jacket with a tug and a flip of the lapel, he leaned against the closed lid of a garbage can, propping his right leg up a little while his left stayed connected to the pavement, balancing him. A wind kicked up above the towering buildings to either side of the three, and somehow, Nick caught the oddest feeling. Something else was amiss. Almost without thinking, the wraith pulled the girl's knife from a pocket within his jacket, originally intending to keep the souvenir that he found while following her mad retreat, and dropped it to the ground with a loud clatter. He kicked it toward her in what was both an expression of good faith, and a practicality he couldn't ignore.

Closing his vibrant blue eyes, Nick cast his awareness outward, spreading his senses over the next few blocks in every direction. Darkness clung to the corners, shadows hanging more heavily than they should have been and stretching with neigh sentient longing toward the two living individuals, like still black flames to kindling, edges spiking and jabbing outward at angles the light should not have allowed. The dim amber radiance of the lamps nearby seemed to darken into a struggling, strangled orange color. Nick's carefree, semi-jovial expression hollowed as his eyes, now nothing more than deep black wells of Stygian ink, opened once more, a distance within them that saw beyond the walls surrounding them.

"We're not alone anymore," he muttered, his voice even sounding half mumbled and distant, echoing almost as if a whisper off of the nearby concrete.

Guess he'd get a shot at proving his intentions after all.

[Branton Applegate]

As Branton's hand delicately graced the girl's face, his emerald hues held pity for the young girl. However, he never directly looked her in the eyes. Instead, they seemed to shift slightly. Moving to her body when it squirmed uncomfortably, then to her lips when she gave him her silent thanks. Branton was studying her while he tried to ease her tension. Something, her body-language told him was a failed attempt. Nodding back before he pulled away, and stepped back. Giving the girl her much needed space, and allowing himself to observe the two as the awkward silence fell upon them before he addressed the girl's question. Which she followed up with something that stunned the brunette for a moment. 

Not for one second did Branton believe that there was no way this skirt did not discover how big her breasts were. His disbelief clear on his face as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but quickly decided it against it. Promptly closing it to avoid starting an argument. Running his hand down the length of his face, he pushed his skepticism aside, and moved his attention toward the ghost. Since he was standing at the side of the two (forming somewhat of a triangle) he was still able to hear the girl question the specter. Although, he himself, remained silent. Having chosen not to pursue a conversation about religion. So that he could watch the way Dominick reacted. Having had rolled his eyes, and lofted his brow. Causing a fox like smirk to spread on Branton's face while he stored the information away. 

Keeping the playful yet sly smirk, he turned his head back towards Michelle to watch her reaction to the spirit's words/laughter. Only to lose his expression when she started to speak to him. His eyes narrowing thoughtfully once she started to explain, or apologize to him for something. Although, he didn't get the chance to understand it since she cut herself off. Giving her head a slight shake which he took as a sign that she wasn't going to finish. Soon after he heard a clunk! behind him. Soon after a knife skidded past him, and gently stopped in front of the girl. Staring at the weapon in confusion he slowly turned his head to looked at the other male. He was expecting some sort of expectation, but what he was got was simply put, horrifying. What he saw sent shivers down his spine, goosebumps popped all over his skin, and his hairs stood on edge. 

His hands reached for the flask, but froze when he heard the ghost's voice echo a warning. 

"We're not alone anymore."

The moment those words fell on his ears, he felt it. An unquenchable bloodlust that was quickly coming down on them, and just before it rain down on them. Everything around Branton seemed to slow down, out of the corner of his eye he saw a blur of movement before he was knocked into the air. His back slamming against the brick wall behind him. "..." Soundlessly he let out a gasp of pain before falling down. Landing on his hands and knees as the world seemed to spin around him. He could only muster one words, he had to make it count. He yelled as loud as he could so the other two would hear, and hopefully others in the area would to. 

"VAMPIRE!!!!"