7171/Hungry Like the Wolf

Hungry Like the Wolf
Date of Scene:	01 August 2021
Location:	The Narrows - Miagani Island
Synopsis:	A Vampire and a Succubus meet and discuss hunting grounds
Cast of Characters:	Satana Hellstrom, Mina Murray

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Satana Hellstrom has posed:
The beast needs feeding. Full feeding, not the love sips she takes from Thomas when he's been a good boy. She needs that lust, yes, but she needs that transition as it turns from lust to fear to despair and finally to extinction. She needs the pretty butterfly.

She needs souls.

There are plenty of souls in her neighbourhood with Thomas, but three things stay her hand. First, a good predator doesn't clutter up her nest and its environs lest the bodies cause prey to steer clear. Second, while full of venal corruption, that full-bodied taste of eternal damnation can only come from the worst of the worst. That heady aroma of a casual murderer. The delicate bouquet of the fallen strumpet, so degraded that death almost comes as a welcome relief. The rich, full-bodied flavour of the career criminal preying not on those who can afford his crimes but upon his fellow poor. Those are the flavours she seeks, and the best of them are found here in The Narrows.

And nobody cares. There's no tracking back to her because the dead aren't valued. She doesn't have to suffer the ignomy of banishment back to her father's tender mercies anxiously awaiting a summoning back to the mortal sphere. She likes it here. She doesn't want to leave. And the souls in Gotham are so... delicious.

So she hunts.

"Show me the way to go home..." Satana's drunken singing pierces the shadows of The Narrows as she stumbles along without even trying to hide, displaying herself in ways that inflame desire. She hiccups loudly and continues. "...I'm tired and I wanna go to bed."

Mina Murray has posed:
There's more than one hunter out tonight. Mina Murray is a different sort of predator than Satana as well. She isn't after soul energy, but something more physical. More visceral. More messy. That's part of the reason why she wears black, after all. It doesn't show the blood.

Because no matter how careful she is, or how skilled, the hunt for the vampiress occasionally turns messy.

Mina hunts differently than Satana, as well. Her preferred approach isn't to lure the unsuspecting... no, she's been attacked before and rarely enjoys the experience. No, Mina is stalking her prey; following with inhuman senses, until the right opportunity.

Then she hears the hiccup and the loud singing. A drunken prostitute. Mina doesn't usually choose women, but there is something curious here. She steps out of the shadows, a pale figure dressed all in black.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
And there ...

Huh. A woman. That's unusual. Even a bit troublesome if she's not wired 'that way'.... Still, best to keep up the act. Find out if she's dinner or just detritus. Either way she's dead, but one way leaves Satana still hungry.

Please be food.

A few shuffled steps after Mina steps out, bringing Satana closer, letting Mina see the voluptuousness on full display, even where clothed, Satana's song ends in a startled cry of surprise.

"...I had a little drink about an hour a... Ah!?"

Satana stands up straighter, subtly throwing back her shoulders in a well-practiced (almost instinctual) move, making sure her full form is on display. Her glazed eyes rapidly take in the form before her. The unwary--overconfident--might miss the quick, predatory assessment. Those knowing what they're looking for (and watching for it) will notice that this 'drunken' woman just gave a very thorough once-over for possible weapons. For visible strength. For stance.

Short pause as Satana tries to stand up straight. And fails by about five degrees, listing to the right.

"H-h-hi there?" Just enough blend of nervousness and curiosity to put the target off the scent. "Do you know where my home is? I think I got lost."

Beat.

"Or are you looking to party?"

The last line delivered like a well-practiced street-corner hooker trying to get her next client.

"'Cause it's late, but I'm always down to party."

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray is that perfect blend of relaxed and wary; loose, yet coiled and ready to spring. Alert. Her right hand is in the pocket of the long coat, the fabric of which shifts as if holding something heavy. For all her casual-seeming air, this is no helpless female.

Satana has encountered yet another predator. Or perhaps even one of Gotham's famous vigilantes. Wonderful.

Mina is many things, among which is an accomplished actress. Which means she also has an eye for a good performance.

She smiles, lips pulling back a moment after those fangs retract. Feeding will have to wait a little while.

In her best Jersey accent, Mina replies. "Don't know where home is? Or maybe yer lookin' for somebody to take youse home with them? Long as there's a lil' somethin' in it, right?"

Mina saunters closer, casually-wary and putting a little more sway into her walk as well. "I could mebbee party, bay-bee."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Ah. There it is. Lust. What she's here for. Satana smiles inwardly. And outwardly, though that one is tentative. Hopeful. Fragile. Asking 'can I eat tomorrow?' or 'can I meet rent tomorrow?' or some such pecuniary question.

The banality of sin.

"Well, honey, I party with anybody!" Brash. Bold. Broken, if the smile is anything to go by. Or the haunted desperation in the eyes. The eyes that hide behind that the steely gaze of ... something uncertain. Satana steps up to bring her personal scent--cinnamon, oddly, or at least very vaguely reminiscent of it in a musk that could only be natural (or at least in a perfume that's about fifteen pay grades higher than a streetwalker could afford). "I like to party. You got a place nearby for it? Or ..."

Her eyes flick around meaningfully. As if she's willing to 'party' right here and now, or at least where the shadows can envelope the pair.

"I'm down for anything."

Probably the first thing she's said that's not a performance. Stated with frank and open honesty. She really is down for anything, it seems.

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray steps closer as well, her head tilting and her own smile becoming a bit lopsided. Playful. There's a slight shift in the air of the alley and her nostrils twitch, catching the woman's scent.

Cinnamon. And a high-end musk. No, something is definitely amiss here.

The hand in her coat pocket shifts, the weighty object settling as delicate fingers with black nail polish are withdrawn. Empty. She steps closer still.

This isn't exactly the sort of hunt Mina had envisioned, but it stokes a different sort of hunger. Another step, then another. She reaches out to brush light fingers through those crimson locks as gazes meet.

"Down for anything? Yeah, I'll bet you sure are, bay-bee."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana smiles wolfishly--a crack in her facade--at the last second as Mina reaches for her. Leaning in she aims for a kiss. A passionate one. And then reaches farther for the soul behind it.

A normal victim would find the press of the lips, the play of the tongue, the artful way that body is pressed against, all very enticing. It is, after all, well-practiced, taught by some of the greatest succubi that Hell has to offer. This part still works as expected. A normal victim, however, would find these physical enticements enhanced, magnified, sending flames of pleasure down every nerve to explode in the mind.

The climax would be sudden. Thorough. Complete. And mind-blowing.

Then an unusual feel, like suction applied to erogenous zones, but throughout the whole body would follow. In its own way pleasurable, if strange and unfamiliar. This would be followed by the pain. The soul-rending pain as the consciousness and spiritual energy that fueled the body left, brutally torn from its fleshy shell, forming in a nice purple mist, butterfly-shaped, for Satana's final consumption and excretion of the remnants into Hell, into her father's domain.

This is what doesn't happen. None of it. The magnified enticements. The climax. The soul-tearing. The destruction. None of it happens and Satana's eyes open wide as she realizes that it's not happening. She starts to try to pull away...

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray feels the press of the lips, the play of the tongue, the press of that body. And she responds in kind. Eagerly, even. The pleasure rush is a bit unexpected, no matter how long it's been. But Mina is experienced to know that this is quite unusual.

The fingers brushing those crimson locks stroke the long mane as the pleasant sounds rise to fill the alley. It's sudden, and as Mina rides it out she hooks one arm behind the other woman's neck to cling to her.

No, it's not another woman. A sense of heightened clarity follows the rush of pleasure, and in those few moments Mina remembers where she's heard of such things before. A single word comes to mind.

Succubus

Then Satana's eyes go wide and she tries to pull away. Mina isn't as strong as the demoness, although she is significantly stronger than a normal human. It's not something she tries to hide, either. After all, it's pretty apparent that she isn't all that she seems to be.

The kiss parts but Mina tries to stay close. She drops the Jersey accent, adopting the more proper British instead. "What's the matter, luv? You look surprised."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana's eyes flash with anger. The fact that the anger is likely directed at herself mostly doesn't change what subsequently happens. The flashing, see, is literal. They ignite with the very fires of Hell behind them, glowing baleful red where once were ... perhaps unusual, but still human-looking eyes.

"What are you!?" she hisses, holding one hand out to keep Mina away, the other hand back, making odd gestures that...

...Mina, darling, she's preparing a spell. Ducking might be in order...

"You're not human!"

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray certainly catches that expression, the fire in the redhead's eyes. Literally. And as the demoness pulls away with a hiss, Mina shifts to stand in profile. Then she reaches calmly into her jacket pocket to pull out a short-barreled revolver.

Webley Bulldog, .445 caliber

Satana is still making her preparation gestures when Mina pulls the hammer back with a resounding <click>, preparing to dodge all the same.

"I'm as human as you are." she replies evenly. "So you stop with the magic, I'll put away my pistol, and let's talk this out civilly. Monster to monster."

"I'm not entirely sure what you were trying to do to me, by the way, but it wasn't very nice." Okay, so that's fair.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
The prep pauses, but if Mina has any ability to sense gathering magical forces, she's got the impression they're still looming, just not woven yet.

"Unless that pop gun has more oomph to it than mortals can give it," Satana says quietly, menace still dripping from her voice like venom from her lips.

No, really. Venom. Is dripping from the fangs her mouth now holds. And that face is becoming more visibly demonic. The poor succubus must be really rattled to let her demonic nature show so clearly.

"I would recommend you put it away."

The looming cloud of magical energy fades as Satana's hands move to the front, held out to see. Look, ma! No somatic gestures! (Though there's probably a few will-driven spells in her repertoire as well, these generally prove less effective.)

"But yes, monster to monster. Let's talk." Satana's features start becoming more human again as she settles down. Claws fade back to fingernails. Fangs retract and vanish (mostly). The face returns to its usual beauty. "You were feeding tonight as well, shall I guess?" She sniffs. "You're not from my realms, so ... what are you? Revenant? Vampire? Wight? Some kind of undead for certain."

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray keeps the pistol in hand all the same. "Oh it won't kill you, but it'll certainly hurt." she replies almost casually. Her thumb slowly settles the hammer back into place, gaze never leaving the succubus as her form slips back to something more human.

"Revenant?" She snorts. "Certainly not!" And for a moment it looks like she might raise the pistol again. Drawing a breath, she exhales slowly.

"I'm not proud of it, to be sure, but you're on the right track. And it's complicated." Mina opens her mouth as if to yawn, and her canines elongate into a pair of nice, deadly fangs. She closes her mouth again and they are back to human when the wry smile forms.

"And yourself? From the kiss, which was rather nice by the way, I'd guess succubus." Pause. "Tell me if I'm close."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Very close," Satana says with a playful smile. "And I should have smelled your coffin dirt on you. You clean up well."

She looks at the pistol curiously. "Perhaps I should introduce myself, then all will become clear." She gestures at the gun in Mina's hand. "And it will also become clear why that is pointless."

Still keeping a relaxed stance, hands by her side, Satana does a mock-curtsy that makes her leather pants squeal from the pressure. "I was trained by succubi. Many, many, oh so many of them. And incubi." She winks at Mina. "They both have their charms. But I am not one of them. I am Satana Hellstrom, daughter of Marduk Kurios, archduke of Hell, calling himself Satan." Another faux-curtsy. "At your service."

And now the looming starts as Satana leans forward bat wings slowly growing out of her back to shade the vampire from what little light the streelams provide.

"That, incidentally, makes me a Hell Lord. I have my own domain in which I am Queen and everything!"

Oddly girly that last sentence. Like a cheerleader talking about being head of the squad, not a threatening, soul-eating, Power.

Again a dismissive wave toward the pistol. "So, as I said, unless you have something on it more than mere mortals' equipment, that isn't going to do much to me. Except maybe piss me off. Maybe."

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray wrinkles her nose at the 'coffin dirt' crack, but she at least puts the pistol away. Her head tilts curiously at the introduction, mind racing to make the connection. Then her eyes widen and she chuckles, just in time to see the wings stretching out.

"Mina Murray." she replies, giving a rather proper curtsey. "Technically a HALF-vampire, which means I'm still fond of garlic in my pasta." Rising from the curtsey, she adds. "At your service."

Regarding Satana more closely, then, her half-smile twitches and she adds. "I've researched your father, I've come across veiled references to you as well. Truly a pleasure to meet you."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Oh good," Satana says dryly. "It's always nice to meet a fan." There's a certain guardedness that comes with "research" and "father" and "veiled references".

"Don't judge me by my father, please," she says, rolling her eyes. The wings are staying, but the rest of the body is that seductive delight she uses to trap the unwarey. "He thinks I'm his tool for his plans and I disagree." Girl has Daddy issues apparently. "I have my own plans independent of his. So if this is going to be one of those 'your father killed my father, prepare to die' things, just know that you're doing it to the wrong person."

A sly grin slithers over her features.

"That's more something you'd want to pin on Daimon, my brother."

"Mina Murray..." It seems someone is committing a name to memory. It couldn't possibly be for further research, now, could it? "I've heard of half-vampires, but I think you're the absolute first I've ever met. It's an intriguing notion, being a half-spirit. I wonder how that works?"

Butter wouldn't melt in this person's mouth, so comfortable is she with lies.

"So ... uh ... is this going to be awkward, by the way, with us both hunting in the same territory? Because I find the food here to be both the most delicious--the sin-stained souls of the damned are SO tasty!--and the variety that nobody cares about enough to go after me for it." She snorts. "It's grossly unfair. An orphanage has the blandest-tasting pabulum souls you can imagine. Absolutely nothing worthwhile. Yet if I were to feed in one there would be howling mobs hunting for me. Whereas here, in the heart of some of the tastiest smorgasbords in the world, nobody gives a damn."

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray relaxes a bit, now that introductions have been made. She slips her hands into her pockets, shrugging and even giving a soft chuckle as Satana continues. "Yes, yes, of course. Everything I've read strongly supports the opinion that your father is an arsehole."

ARSE-, not ass-...

"How that works? To be honest, I was turned in 1897 and I'm still figuring it out as I go." She nods, then, briskly. "But you are right, of course. Shared hunting grounds never work out properly. I won't claim right of age. But being newly returned to New York myself, I will certainly yield to you right of first refusal."

A bow follows, then, quite proper. "You look curious, so I'll save you some reading. If you wish to learn more about me, may I suggest you start with T, for Transylvania or V, for Vlad Dracul."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Oh, him I know about." Satana steps in closer again, exuding that sexuality she was before when she was trying to feed. The bat wings close behind her, but do not disappear. "It's you that intrigue me. Vlad Tepes called Vlad Dracul or Dracula is well-known and somewhat of a pain in the ass."

Ass. Not arse. Satana's as American as apple pie and original sin.

"But you, Mina, you are more intriguing. Half-vampire. I'm not certain, even, how such could happen. This interests me." The beast within her starts to rumble, the only outward sign of which is a slight brightening in the coal ember eyes in her face. "But I would never suggest that this entire feast belongs to me. I'm willing to share, provided we keep out of each other's hair while hunting. I need to ... feed ... a minimum of once every fortnight. Moreso if I am doing a lot of personal magics--it's why I prefer ritual. I don't know how often you must feed, but surely we can arrange different nights to minimize the attention drawing?"

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray holds her ground, nostrils twitching as the demoness steps closer. Satana can smell her reaction, eyes dialating and scent changing. Breathing quickening. Nature following its natural course of attraction.

She wets her lips, stance shifting from one foot to the other. "Yes." she replies after a moment. "He truly was. I loved him, too. Then I helped them kill him."

Her eyes brighten at the mention of sharing, and the woman chuckles softly. Back to the conversation at hand, now. "Every fortnight? It's similar for me, actually. Although not so much for power as to avoid slipping into a frenzy."

She lifts her chin, then, and dispite her choice of garb and makeup it would be easy to imagine this woman in Victorian garb.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Well then, Mina Murray, half-vampire, presumably daughter of Vlad Tepes called Dracula," Satana says, raising a hand to gently caress Mina's cheek if she doesn't flinch. She leans in closer. "I look forward to ... peaceful coexistence in this wonderful smorgasbord of the worst sinners the east coast has to offer."

Another kiss is delivered, again if not refused.

"And I would tarry with you a while, and teach you ways beyond your imagining ... and maybe learn some from you as well ... but my beast needs feeding. For tonight I'll stalk the alleys and byways to the north and you take the south. After that we can exchange every second weekend to keep the herd fat and happy and unalarmed."

And then Satana takes to the skies, wings flapping as she highlights herself briefly against the moon, looking like a perverse reflection of the bat family's vaunted signal before vanishing behind buildings to the north.

Mina Murray has posed:
Mina Murray wrinkles her nose at the 'daughter' title, but she still doesn't pull back at the touch. Lashes flutter, the kiss received with a tilt of her head and a parting of her lips.

Lashes flutter, eyelids still heavy after the kiss, and Mina licks her lips. "...South." she repeats softly.

Only when those wings flap does she blink away her reverie, snapping out of it and taking half a step back. Looking up at the sky, she does note the similarity to another signal. Mina smirks, and makes a note to do more reading about the Hellstroms.

But first, her own hunger calls. South is... that way.