Shadows of the Sanctuary
The hospital was crowded, people packed the inner rooms and cars littered the parking lot, leaving Draven no choice but to pull back. He had followed for a while, from the cemetery to here, and while the undead wasn’t sure what benefits he would be, at least if something went wrong he’d be able to help take care of the frightened girl. However, staring at the large building, Draven realized this was the furthest he’d go, Illidan’s previous remarks of wanting to reach out and touch him, specifically in order to test the odd link the vampire believed he had witnessed. For a moment, Draven watched the strong woman who had stumbled upon him initially, helping take leadership over the situation and guiding them to where the injured woman was to be taken care of.
She will be safe here Draven, A voice so soft it could have been an angels whispered to him, and though Draven had no idea of such resemblances, he felt soothed by her words, not for what she were saying, but for the sound, the tone… the familiarity of it that gave such comfort beyond his own understanding. A part of him remembered, a part that locked itself away, that scratched and howled and called for release, that human side that held the memories, the pain and the truth of what had happened not so long ago… the truth behind what made Draven who and what he was today. Sometimes, like now, Draven could hear the words of another, he could feel the presences of someone, someone he missed, or needed, or lost. A woman who wished only to comfort him, yet couldn’t, not like she wished, another injustice that burned inside. Sometimes a name would whisper through his mind, a face so gentle and kind, and then other times that same face could be tortured and battered and pained, and the times he saw that face that way he shuddered with a fierceness so potent that Draven felt nothing but hate and anger and all he wanted to do was scream out and lash our at anything in his way. And there were other times… lonely times… where he remembered nothing… felt nothing… Where the voice, the memories of this woman were gone, even when he wanted to feel the comfort she offered, he couldn’t, he couldn’t make her return… and he felt empty.
Emotions were high here though, and they crashed against Draven’s inner mind like waves in a storm against rocks, seemingly unmoveable and immortal in their stance, yet wearing down bit by bit with every wave. Each one of the humans around him seemed to be suffering, each one holding their secrets, deep and dark, filled with a pain and energized with an aura of injustice that needed to be avenged. It made the Avenging spirit angry, and sad, yet confused because he wasn’t sure why he felt the way he did, what drove him to become so emotionally outraged by the things he felt. The emotions themselves he was dealing with were difficult to understand, a struggle to cope with and an added confusion to the strangeness of his life… or unlife, whatever it was called right now. Silently, and unsure for a moment, Draven turned his back to the hospital, looked one way that led towards the Hotel, and the otherway which led towards the old Warehouses. The hotel was closer, but that was never really something that Draven took into thought when he decided which way to go… each way led to a different situation, each way took him towards two entirely separate ways of thinking, of living.. and yet both ways – at the end of the line – were really so alike it almost didn’t matter. *Almost.*
Worn leather soles carried Draven across the grass, his mind left to catch up as it trailed behind. At the moment, Spike was back at the school, and for some reason the blonde vampire felt the school might not be ready for Draven. There were many people at the Hotel, and things that weren’t really people but looked like them… right now, after facing Illidan, Draven found himself wanting somewhere more quiet, more alone and far away from creatures such as Illidan. And if there was one person who would be the least likely to touch Draven, and that would be one of the few humans who had met Draven over the year, and only one who had actually remained a part of what could be called Draven’s ‘social circle’.
The only company Draven had on the run towards Harmony were the constant flapping of the wings of a ever present crow, the disorientation of seeing through the birds eyes had lessened in the last few months as long as Draven was prepared for it, knowing that while he ran the guide will do its best to keep him on track. The run was hardly tiring, Draven discovered months ago that only certain things seemed to wear down his energy, and usually they were either demonically inclined – sometimes even emotionally – or his crow was injured. Few people tended to target the bird however when they had Draven throwing himself at them, and Draven himself took a while to realize that if his bird was hurt that he felt it’s pain.
The Warehouses to most appeared cold and unwelcoming, but Draven was starting to find himself more at home here then anywhere else – at least compared to the other places he knew. The owner, Chris, even had originally put together a make shift room for Draven, before later realizing that Draven didn’t appear to sleep, and Draven himself was learning along with Chris his peculiar habits that were apparently not ‘normal’. The Warehouse that Draven scaled was the one beside that which Chris housed himself within, following the humans lead of leaping from one to the other for no other reason then it seemed the common way expected to enter the place. The landing was almost silent, the quiet thud easily unheard by those nearby, there was a stealthiness about the way Draven moved, often unintentional but easily giving off the air of a predator at times – a being designed for the hunt. The door way caused Draven to hesitate, though the undead creature had seen it a few times before, he felt an aura off the door, the magical energies called to his spirit in a way it wouldn’t to any normal man. There was a safety in these walls, more or less, for the most part, that was true. And in the peacefulness Draven had found himself more able to recall memories that otherwise remained hidden away.
Carefully, arms pushed open the door, a slight scraping of the hinges barely heard due to the advance makings of the gateway between the outside and the inside, and Draven always felt intrigued about the doors in this place. Inside, he paused, allowing the door to close gently behind him as the brown gaze of the undead creature turned to scan the visible areas below. Quiet movements carried Draven along the walkways, moving as always with a silent grace towards the centrepiece of the Warehouse, the soft ripples of water, the gentle splash of movement within when the fish drew too close to the surface. They seemed to mesmerize Draven at times, as if he were listening to their secrets, secrets only he could hear. Though what drove the dark haired individual to find such peace by the rock pool was difficult for Draven to understand. As was the case with many things.
Once more Draven’s skin was it’s tanned human-like appearance, the markings having faded some time durng his run here and it was not until he peered down into the pool that he knew for sure that he was – more or less – himself again. Hands raised slightly, allowing Draven to gaze down upon them, sometimes his only clue, he has gotten mad before, but managed not to change, it was difficult, and he wasn’t as furious as could have been, but sometimes he changed when he didn’t want to, as if another side of him was taking over, another darker creature which lived inside and wanted to wreak havoc on all things around him, people, items, anything. Make them suffer for all he could for what they had done, whatever that was, for whatever reason, if they had done injustice, he could feel it, like a stench on their soul he knew it was there.
Crouching down, Draven drew his hands, crossed, towards his chest, each hand taking hold of the opposite shoulder, eyes staring down at the elegantly moving fish, their bodies twisting and turning and gliding through the water. At first moving away from the movement of the dark figure, and then, with his stillness that followed, cautiously they returned, closer, more freely, swimming this way and that way and completely careless… safe yet confined. Eyes closed, an unmoving figure who seemed so human, yet not – no human could be so balanced, so still and so frozen in the same poise while waiting… almost as if he were asleep, yet those who knew him knew that was not the case, though probably it was the closest Draven ever got to resting.
Peace was a rare thing to come by in Chris’ line of work, yet here at his warehouse, his home.. it was abundant. The quiet trickling sound of the fountain in the centre of the building covered the low beeping noise of the buildings computer mainframe and accompanied nicely the ticking of an old grandfather clock in his study area. Right now the dark skinned demon hunter sat cross legged in the middle of his training area, the cloth which usually covered his eyes folded neatly in front of him, his plated protective clothing hung to one side on a mannequin.
To anyone who knew the blind man it could be confusing seeing him like this, as it were never easy to tell if he were actually paying attention when he sat with his eyes closed, as they were ineffectual. It had been a busy night tonight and Chris had more than one case on the go along with the random nasties that might have crossed his path, the most interesting case being the disappearance of a girl near the church. This case was bringing no revenue but that was not how he worked, the priest there knew Chris well, and with the amount of holy water and symbols the hunter went through it was a good thing.
Some of his work was paid for, he did the occasional bit of private detective work when something came up that interested him or when he was recommended by one of his contacts, but most of his work was supernatural. He was a problem solver, the one person that would be called in when everything else had failed or someone else had made a gigantic @#%$ up that Chris would then have to fix, some things took a lot more time than others to sort out though.
This building was his sanctuary, his peace at the end of a long night, or day... it was difficult to tell the passing of time sometimes when you couldn’t see the light outside.
*click* the sound of the upper door closing was barely detectable above that of the trickling water, footsteps though masked by graceful movement did not go unnoticed by the demon hunter, his sword was nearby, a quick roll would have it within arms reach and that could be done in a split second. There was no need for that though and Chris knew it from the moment he heard the door, the presence of Draven registered quickly, and though he were not human the undead male was of no threat. The opposite in fact, Chris had developed a liking for the creature since the moment they met about half a year beforehand and though he knew Draven had another residence it was clear he were as drawn to the sanctuary as Chris himself sometimes.
Flapping of wings indicated that his bird had entered the building too, Chris had a skylight installed when it became apparent that Draven would be coming over with any form of regularity, it were small enough to not worry about intruders and in the event of a lockdown being necessary it closed quite well. Slowly he rose to his feet, the red cloth lifted to his eyes again, tied in a neat knot behind his head and allowed to drape down his back.
As the hunter moved towards the fountain he picked up a t shirt from where it had been discarded upon his own entrance to the building “Draven” his voice a friendly greeting to the undead sitting in a usual spot by the fountain “anything good happened in your neck of the woods? Been a busy night over here” he leaned against the pool, his back to it, the one good thing about being blind... he didn’t have to look at something to appreciate its being there. Chris didn’t expect a lot of conversation from Draven, if he did he would be sorely disappointed.
Re: Shadows of the Sanctuary
Movement nearby alerted Draven to the presence of his host, though eyes remained closed, unlike so many months ago when Draven found himself confused and uncertain about the man, now he felt comfortable enough not to worry. "Draven" Sometimes Chris was busy, sometimes he was asleep, other times he wasn’t around and at certain points he actually felt like talking. Something that, at first, seemed completely one way… yet gradually, short replies were given in turn from Draven, though not always were they of the kind that made sense. In time, maybe Draven would be able to hold more of a conversation, or maybe he’d not, all that mattered was giving him the chance, and accepting when he didn’t take the chance to talk.
"anything good happened in your neck of the woods? Been a busy night over here" Images of Illidan returned in flashes behind his eyelids, the smug arrogant smirk as he made suggestions of reaching out to touch Draven, even with all the pain he had been suffering merely by their presence, let alone their touch which would be so much worse. The thought of that vampire taking pleasure from seeing what happened caused Draven’s stomach to tighten, he was annoyed and upset but not furious, not like he has been in the past… he didn’t like the suggestion and that was all he knew for sure..
"Busy," He repeated, though Draven replied softly, and it was difficult to tell if he was just repeating the word or if he were in fact giving an answer. With eyes slowly opening, the undead peered up at Smith silently, hands unhurriedly uncoiling and elbows resting upon each of Draven’s knees. Waves of dark strands fell about the tanned skinned neck and shoulders, the tattered and worn shirt a faded black, "People," Draven began, "A girl, her companion, and a vampire… Illidan," It was relatively clear that the vampire annoyed Draven, though the reasons were hard for Draven to express, though in Draven’s view he had already explained quite a lot of what had happened, his mind going over the events in clear detail and yet not explaining it for Smith to understand. The girl, there was something about her that kept nagging at Draven’s mind, something he felt he should know but didn’t, something her soul had been telling him that he couldn’t hear.
In many ways Draven was still a mystery to Smith, and the Avenging Spirit had secrets and abilities still left for Smith to gradually discover, though the same thing could be said for Draven as well in regards to who and what he has become.. or even figuring out who he was. Some things, like no heart beat, were difficult to hide from Chris, the lack of sleep and constant naivety over things that would be considered basic and normal, the child like curiosity and at times almost eerie patience to learn and watch.
Re: Shadows of the Sanctuary
It was not until he was close to Draven did Chris notice something was unusual about him tonight, his movement slow and behaviour seemingly both confused, inquisitive and yet highly attuned to the world was normal but there was something troubling him and it related to the blind hunter question. Had something happened? It was difficult to tell from Draven, the man usually gave very little verbal confirmation of anything, communication with him was more through reading the little signs and actions that were always apparent and sometimes offered a much more telling response than a normal person would ever give or words could ever say.
"Busy," it was soft, almost as if a question to himself, an aid to memory as it were, as if the word itself would help draw the nights events from his mind, that much Chris could tell, Draven had a habit of repeating questions. There was definitely something wrong, the blind hunter’s concern for this Undead man was something that outsiders might find rather confusing and possibly hypocritical if they knew his line of work, but it was there nonetheless, And if Draven were concerned Chris had learnt that they were usually well founded. "People, A girl, her companion, and a vampire… Illidan,"
in the hunters mind two and two were definitely making four… Draven was troubled, there were 2 people involved, and one of them a girl, and a vampire was thrown into the mix. Draven reeked of annoyance, irritation, possibly anger… had the vampire killed someone. “Illidan” Chris repeated much the same way that Draven had with his own question earlier “I have heard that name somewhere” he stood, part of him wanting to dress up and go hunting for this vampire, but there was something not quite right about the situation… looking at it logically if something so bad had happened then the vampire would either not be alive any more or if he were still alive Draven would not be sitting in a pit of negative emotion on Chris’ pond staring at Fish. Then again… you never could really tell
“Did he…” there was a pause as if expecting not to have to finish the sentence, but then again he remembered that this was Draven he was talking to “ Did this Illidan hurt them?” the vampire’s name was emphasised with a tone of disgust designed to display this vampire’s inferiority compared to them. “Perhaps we should pay him a little visit and bring him into the light of day” though the night had been long Chris had not fought alongside Draven for a while, it had never ceased to amaze him the undead’s fighting abilities, as his own tended to amaze most people. There were a lot of things that Draven could do that the hunter could only dream of, but it was not something he would ever worry about to a great extent. His own fighting skills were tailored to suit his needs and abilities, there was no point in him changing now.
Re: Shadows of the Sanctuary
“Illidan” The African demon hunter repeated the name, and the name itself was enough to irritate Draven, who stood up almost restlessly for once and folded the tanned arms across his chest with a frown upon what some could easily call a handsome face. “I have heard that name somewhere” And it stood to reason, if Illidan had done something wrong in the past then Chris was likely to have heard something, from somewhere in his hunts that name stood to reason to be whispered or muttered or hissed.
“Did he…” Came a hesitant question, and Draven once more lifted his face to pay attention to the human before him, “Did this Illidan hurt them?” That was, in a sense, the problem Draven was having, because the vampire hadn’t hurt anyone… and while Draven wished to fight, the woman had been hurt, and Draven had to help see she got to safty… but should he have stayed and fought Illidan, even after he had helped them get her to hospital…. Though it appeared he had done so from a misguided sense of boredom. How to respond. How to explain.
“Perhaps we should pay him a little visit and bring him into the light of day” That would end him, for sure it had to, and for a moment Draven though over how that would work, because really… a vampire stood little chance at times next to a demon hunter. At least so far in Draven’s experience. Though a sigh, unusual from Draven, was all the undead gave before gracefully moving past Smith, careful not to brush against the man and yet not quiet enough to go unheard. Eyes scanned over the area, taking in the scene not for the first time and yet still studying it as if it were all still so new and unknown.
"Her dress was torn… like broken rays of sunlight," It was yellow, was what Draven was saying, his hand touching gently his chest, that’s all he wanted to say, and yet, when he looked back at Chris it was clear that the human was still waiting for more. "A human, he hurt her, I showed him what he had done," Referring to an ability Chris didn’t know of, and for all Chris knew, Draven could just be trying to say he had done to the man what he had done to the woman, as far as hurting her went. "Come then the girl and he who follows her, and on her words she spoke, came the nightwalker," Draven’s body turned slightly towards Smith, "Help her," The avenging spirit echoed out loud, repeating what had been whispered to him from memories of a woman long since dead, "He would hurt me with a smile on his lips, a hollowness in an empty shell of what once was, filled with nothingness, tainted by wrongs, yet help the human, guide her away," It was a question almost, a demand, a need to know what right Illidan had to threaten Draven who, while not considering himself better, but had saved the girl whom was threatened by the human male and then had a group suddenly upon him with accusations and demands!
There was a strangeness about Draven now, a passion in his anger that made him seem more alive then usual, the creature took a step forward, one that drew him close to Smith, allowing them to face each other, allowing Draven to see the other clearly and fully, staring at the blindfold as if he could see beyond it into the eyes that were hidden. "They all hurt," It was as if a secret was being passed, one that meant something, but even Draven wasn’t sure what, all he knew was that pain had to be returned to those who dished it out, but where did he start? And with who? And just because illidan had caused pain, should his pain not be challenged too? It was confusing. And draven knew nothing more to say, as far as he was concerned he had just had a blow up, a ranting rave, few times did he say so much and even now he could feel his stomach knotting away in anger the more he thought of it.
But whatever he was trying to really say deep down it didn’t really come out in what words he chose to use, it was still difficult for him to form together the sentences that were needed to make things more clear for people to understand him. And so Draven turned away, fuelled with frustration and the urge to hit something, which caused clenched fists to be drawn firmly to the still chest in an attempt to restrain any outbursts. He wasn’t a monster… he didn’t want to be one… but everyone looked at him as if he were, everyone outside of this warehouse, even back at the hotel, he wasn’t normal and he wasn’t like them. So what was he?
Re: Shadows of the Sanctuary
For a second Chris detected Draven’s mood lift a little at the thought of slaying this vampire Illidan, but it was short lived. Perhaps things were not entirely as black and white as the blind hunter had first assumed, and he was not one to refuse to admit that his initial assumptions could be incorrect. Many a time he had re-evaluated a situation to compromise for a misconception, it was part of what had made him so successful, the ability to recognise his own mistakes before they got out of hand and to rectify them. "Her dress was torn… like broken rays of sunlight," Slowly the mental picture began to build in the hunters mind, a girl wearing a torn dress, though it was hard to imagine colour after so long in a colourless world, the dress itself was pretty easy. Over the years Chris had become adept at using his imagination to fill the gaps left by his lack of sight, a description of a person could come to life with even the slightest details of their appearance or clothing.
"A human, he hurt her, I showed him what he had done," This was obviously the third person, so there was a vampire, a human and Draven, "come then the girl and he who follows her, and on her words she spoke, came the nightwalker," Chris took a second to postulate in his mind what had occurred, ok so there had been a Girl who was being followed by a human, he had hurt her and raven had intervened… her screaming had clearly attracted Illidan "He would hurt me with a smile on his lips, a hollowness in an empty shell of what once was, filled with nothingness, tainted by wrongs, yet help the human, guide her away," it was turning out that his original estimation of Illidan was indeed incorrect, the injustice that had been meted out had not been by the hand of the vampire but that of a human… who Draven had dealt with already.
Draven was confusing at the best of times but usually relatively simple to read if you knew what to look for… however he was being particularly difficult at this point in time. His voice changed from matter of fact and full of vengeance to questioning and then the almost pitiful "They all hurt,"“I know… people hurt, it is up to us to deal with the things that hurt them, the things that they cannot or refuse to understand. We have to stay sane for their sakes” he paused, it was almost a pep talk in a tone designed to lift Draven’s spirit slightly though still confused as to why they needed lifting and what exact;y this vampire had actually done, from what he could tell it was mental not physical pain that had come from Illidan’s corner… but to who was it directed, because from the way the dark haired male was acting it were as if the vampire had hurt *him* and not the girl.
“I have heard of Illidan, not a lot mind, it seems that he keeps himself to himself” Chris paced towards his library, the neat leather bound volumes containing information on demons, other worldly occurrences and the odd spellbook or two scattered around. Books and word of mouth were his only reference, Unable to see the pixels on a computer screen Chris had to rely upon the age old technique of skimming through books, the covers embossed with the title and the insides written in both Braille and normal text. It was an expensive collection. Not all the volumes were ancient text however, some of them compiled by the hunter himself from his own studies and things he had heard.
slowly he ran the fingers of his left hand over the labelling on the shelves, the nerves in his right hand numbed from his accident and its subsequent reconstruction rendered it useless for reading. “Ah, here we are” the dark skinned hunter muttered as his hand stopped at a relatively new looking volume. “this documents my own findings on Vampires and other lesser demons said to be in the city, I compile it from things my sources have told me or I have heard of an evening” swift footsteps brought him to his desk where the book was opened and the index searched “this Illidan character intrigues me somewhat, I’m sure I have heard *Something* about him and if I have it will be in this book” the name cropped up, only one page though and that was shared with other names… that wasn’t particularly useful. Still it was worth a shot so he flicked to the page, not holding out much hope.
“perhaps we shall pay him a visit anyway, see what it is exactly we are dealing with before we make a full judgement on the situation, he might prove to be a useful source if his activities are not unspeakable” all previous thoughts of a rest this morning had evaporated and were replaced instead with finding out who this Illidan Character was, his hand still searching the book for anything that might help
Re: Shadows of the Sanctuary"I know… people hurt, it is up to us to deal with the things that hurt them, the things that they cannot or refuse to understand. We have to stay sane for their sakes" The words spoken held little meaning in parts and yet great importance in other parts, especially the first half that caused Draven to ball his fist and draw it towards his mouth in thought. The reference to remaining sane went a little over the spirit’s head at this point, the urge to find out what Smith meant by the last half was like a faint pull inside of him, the ever present instinct to reach out and touch in order to better understand the meaning behind what was said or done.
"I have heard of Illidan, not a lot mind, it seems that he keeps himself to himself" With that, the human moved off, heading towards his collection of books, what he called the library room. One final glance at the pond was given, watching the fish zig and zag from one side to the other, and then turned to follow the dark skinned man quickly. The pages of the books had an odd familiarity to them, not the text or the books themselves, but the words, the meanings, the ability to read was lost to Draven at this point but the skill was still hidden in his memories, waiting to be rediscovered.
The books themselves were a wealth of information, literally all at Draven’s fingertips, all with a touch; he could learn a great deal of what the book had to teach. If anyone had touched it, read it, the history and emotions of the readers just as informative as the words written within.
"Ah, here we are" Smith announced, pulling out a book and examining the front. "this documents my own findings on Vampires and other lesser demons said to be in the city, I compile it from things my sources have told me or I have heard of an evening" As the human spoke he had moved towards the desk, and Draven followed with a silence in his steps. "this Illidan character intrigues me somewhat, I’m sure I have heard *Something* about him and if I have it will be in this book" Half the time Draven offered up a name it seemed somewhere Chris had some form of information, or knew just where to go to get it, and made things easier sometimes, because Draven didn’t have to spend so much time explaining things.
"perhaps we shall pay him a visit anyway, see what it is exactly we are dealing with before we make a full judgement on the situation, he might prove to be a useful source if his activities are not unspeakable" Was it wrong to want the vampire to be doing things that warranted its end? Draven pressed his lips tightly together for a moment, there had been wrongs done against the vampire and that burned deep, but the vampire in turn had done many wrongs to innocents and for Draven that was difficult to ignore, because unlike Spike, Draven did not see the acts of redemption that proved Illidan was trying to repent. And until Draven saw that proof more strongly, he was still spiteful.
" ‘Brand new world, same old evil’…" Draven quoted the words of the mysterious young woman who had stumbled on the scene and was both confused and unsure of what was happening, she was human… but there was something about her, something familiar and powerful that dwelled within the female human… "Her words… so much pain…" There was a distance at that moment with his words, Draven’s head had turned thoughtfully towards the books still lined up, "So much hurt." As if a statement that would make all this suddenly so much more understandable, Draven moved towards the shelves, with a hesitant sense of discovery, a knowing that drove him towards finding a book that would give Smith some help on what Draven was thinking. All Draven had to do, was find a book that had the same images attached to it as he had gotten from the only other person in the world that had the same sense of power about them as that girl had that Draven had ever met… Jennifer. "I know the dreams, I know the hurt… I know," It was a soft whisper, the avenging spirits fingers brushed across the spines of the books, not seeking the brail or reading the titles, waiting for what he needed to jump out at him. "I know the pain," Jennifer had not experienced the nightmares she had herself, but it was a nightmare which apparently haunted every slayer, and when Draven had touched her and seen the memories he had gotten so enraged by the pain of the girl in the vision that Jennifer had to explain there was nothing he could do. There were so many similarities that Draven couldn’t ignore them, even if there were so many things that he didn’t understand at times there were times that things just made sense to him, especially when it came down to these kind of matters.
It was further from the centre, off to the side and almost hidden away with the books barely used, which made sense, because how often did someone encounter a slayer, or need to know how she was created? The book was pulled out, held firmly by Draven’s tanned fingers and quick steps drew him towards Smith, holding it out for him to see.
Re: Shadows of the Sanctuary
As Chris read over the pages he ‘watched’ Draven, Illidan had wound him up rather tight and it was as if he were fighting the urge to track him down and kill him on the spot. But why would he be fighting that urge unless the vampire had done something good or helpful, it was not usual for him to hold off like this for no reason, so there had to be a jolly good reason. " ‘Brand new world, same old evil’…" If the blind hunter could stare blankly He would have right now, Draven did come out with some strange things that did not always make sense however… perhaps it had been something he’d heard, maybe from the vampire "Her words… so much pain…" the puzzle was being pieced together in the hunters mind, slowly as more and more pieces became available he was building a picture of the situation.
"So much hurt." The book was all but ignored now, Chris’ attention was drawn to his companion, he was looking over the books, or at least that’s what Chris could assume from the direction his head were turned, moving towards them, clearly deep in thought "I know the dreams, I know the hurt… I know," There were many things in Dravens mind that chris would love to learn, many things that he would like to find out about, for example what he was, what he was doing. But these were things that were not important, he trusted that there was no malice towards humanity in this man, he seemed as much confused about his own being as everyone else around him.
"I know the pain," Chris signed inwardly, turning his focus back to the pages of the book he was holding, it was as he feared, there was little about Illidan in there, just a name, some places he had been sighted but nothing to say if he would be an ally or an enemy. Suddenly it was there, he had been paying so much attention to the book in his hands he had neglected to observe the movements of the undead male, and now he stood, a book thrust towards Chris. “Slayer Lore” Chris read the title sounding a touch confused as he took the book ith his left hand and put the other down with his right “is this what you mean about dreams and hurt?” Chris dark hands ran over the cover and flicked it open to the first few pages. “I knew a few slayers, they all experienced the same dream at some stage in their lives, perhaps the woman you came across was a slayer, though if she were I doubt that a single man or Vampire would be able to inflict any degree of hurt upon her” That the girl was a slayer might have been the reason why Illidan did not start a fight, a slayer and Draven were a deadly combination if you were on the wrong side of them so perhaps he was just trying to avoid being dusted.
There was a long pause for thought “Perhaps Illidan should not be the target of our research, if there is indeed a slayer out there that is being hurt or manipulated by a human, not matter how you have ‘showed him what he had done’ we should still check to make sure there is not something more sinister going on” there was another pause as he put the book down on the table with the first and stood, the old wooden chair creaking as he moved, it was his fathers, and held a lot of sentimental value “Where did you leave them?” the blind hunter slowly stepped towards his training area where he had left his gear from his nights work “we should probably go and look there and see if we can follow up on this girl, make sure she’s safe and that sort of thing” if there were indeed a slayer in trouble it would not be the first time, and probably not the last in Chris’ experience, they had a nasty habit of being trouble magnets. Part of him did not understand the point of the slayer, certainly they had a great deal of power and he respected most of them, but they also were people who did not want this power, it was thrust upon them at an age where they should be growing up at their own pace instead of having a world of demons and vampires dumped on their shoulders.
Then again Chris did not like a lot of hunters that were doing this job by choice either, they were usually so suspicious of each other to a degree in which they ended up in fighting, or they were just plain evil themselves. There were obviously exceptions to this though, invariably Chris had met them and remained in contact so to speak. Any one of them would drop everything and come to the aid of another… perhaps that was the hunters weakness, Chris’ own too
Re: Shadows of the Sanctuary"Slayer Lore" The human announced, and Draven watched the man as he spoke, listening to the words and studying the reaction, did it make sense to him? Heck, did it make sense to Draven? It was different, what he felt around the girl, but at the same time, so similar to what he had felt from Jennifer, usually people didn’t have so alike fears when it came to that, no other persona he had encountered had anything like Jennifer’s. Her hurt, matched with the pain the new girl had felt so closely that Draven felt there was something there. Something worth exploring… as long as Illidan was nowhere around.
"I knew a few slayers, they all experienced the same dream at some stage in their lives, perhaps the woman you came across was a slayer, though if she were I doubt that a single man or Vampire would be able to inflict any degree of hurt upon her" That, Draven knew, would never happen, not unless the Slayer was already weakened and injured, however it was difficult for him to explain exactly what had happened.
"Perhaps Illidan should not be the target of our research, if there is indeed a slayer out there that is being hurt or manipulated by a human, not matter how you have ‘showed him what he had done’ we should still check to make sure there is not something more sinister going on" With a tilt of Draven’s head, the spirit of vengeance had no idea what Smith was just saying, Draven had not said anything of the like, in fact the Slayer "Where did you leave them? " Following behind the hunter, Draven thought back to the graveyard, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, but there was something in that graveyard that drew him there originally, something that he both feared and yearned for. "we should probably go and look there and see if we can follow up on this girl, make sure she’s safe and that sort of thing" Then again, as Smith spoke, Draven realized that was the first place he met her, not the last, he could take Smith to the hospital and avoid the graveyard totally! Some part of Draven felt relief… another part sensed a vague disappointment.
For a moment Draven stared at Smith, wondering how exactly to explain that Chris seemed not to understand, the Slayer helped the girl, she wasn’t the girl herself that got hurt. There was an urge inside of him again, causing the undead’s hands to raise a little, though fists clenched as Draven stared at his hands and drew them back to his chest almost protectively. It’s like a part of him wanted to reach out and show exactly what happned, and yet, the amount of times Draven got bombarded with thoughts and images and a pain more potent then what he felt in their aura… it was too much to risk, he didn’t like it. Turning around, Draven moved towards the stairs, running up them with ease and heading through the door, if nothing else, he could at least show Smith where the injured young woman had been left, and maybe… if all else failed, retrace back to the graveyard to where he first met the slayer.
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