cryptsleeper: (Default)
Alucard \\ Adrian F. Ţepeş ([personal profile] cryptsleeper) wrote2018-11-04 07:45 pm
speak_n_spell: (determination)

extremely rude

[personal profile] speak_n_spell 2020-04-05 08:42 am (UTC)(link)
I'd like to at least be in hearing range. [Right now, all she can make out is the yammering of the crowd and its angry, fearful undertones. The speakers are no doubt decent orators, but there's too much ambient noise to discern their words.

All she really needs to do is listen. Sypha's been trained since childhood to absorb and regurgitate oral recitation. Sit her down before a lecturer, and she can faithfully repeat them down to 'um's and intonation for days afterward. Where her memory falls short is the nonverbal - but no less important - pieces of an event. The layout of the area, the number of people, the signs they carried, the police officers in the crowd, the smell in the air. That's where her notebook comes in. That's where Adrian has been so invaluable, both as a writing surface and a second set of eyes. He has a sharp eye for trouble and an uncanny read on unfurling human emotions.]
Wait, are you saying you can hear from here?

[Fascinating! Hardly the time to delve into the specifics of how a dhampir experiences the world, but worth noting for a future conversation. Sypha tugs him through the crowd, shooting for the gaps and eddies as they open and close around her. They had to be getting close by now, she could nearly make sense of one voice rising above the rest--

Glass shatters somewhere nearby, sending a ripple of alarm through the crowd. Someone dives towards the speaker Sypha'd been zeroing in on, though she can't tell whether he's under attack or being tackled to safety as a thin plume of smoke rises from the back of the wagon-slash-stage.]
speak_n_spell: (rEALLY?)

[personal profile] speak_n_spell 2020-04-19 08:05 am (UTC)(link)
Small>[No physical law governs which way a crowd will split in the first moments of violence. People scatter in all directions from a hundred different epicenters, knocking the people nearest them askew. Sypha's not immune; someone's shoulder checks hers sideways, while a stray ankle clips her knee. She trips in a corkscrew, and nearly tucks herself into a safe ball of knees and elbows before Adrian appears like a bulwark at her side. Her hands catch hold of his arm and grip tight.]

What? No! People set fires to drive protesters away! [Point proven as a woman with a scarf wrapped around her face bounces off Adrian's back.] We need to go where we're not wanted! Come on!

[A dhampir can't be moved by a human's piddly tugging, so Sypha doesn't even try. She lets go and shoves through the crowd, trusting that he'll follow.]
speak_n_spell: (hmph)

[personal profile] speak_n_spell 2020-10-27 06:51 am (UTC)(link)
[Yes! She knows! That's the idea! There's a capital-c-Cause ahead of her, a wrong in the midst of being committed, she can't turn away! It needs documented, if not actively stamped out--

With a mighty, muffled whumpf, a gout of flames bursts from the broken window of a nearby building. Sypha's half-turned away when it goes up, but the blast of heat still crackles across her cheek and neck, drawing the skin tight and tender. She throws up her arm and ducks away, but does not avert her eyes. People instinctively shy from the fire, pressing tighter in the street, buffeting her away, away, away, but Sypha still sees them. Two men, both wearing the shiny uniform shoes of constables under patched coats and shapeless hats, ducking down a side alley.]
Wait! You!

[Sypha twists free of the crowd and catches herself on the curb, scrabbling back to her feet to dash after them. She hears her name, carrying over the shouts and shrieks, but one of the plainclothes cops glances over his shoulder and meets her eyes. There's no stopping now.

She makes it all of four steps towards the alley when someone snatches her elbow. Sypha whips around, expecting to snap at Adrian, only to meet the chill stare of another constable. This one's in full uniform, helmet pulled low on his brow, nightstick in hand.]


"Well well well," [his fingers dig into the tender inside of her arm.] "Caught myself a firebug."