Three hundred and some-odd years of undeath is not nearly enough to grow to tolerate such a terrible storm, and while the option to hunker down somewhere until it passes is a possibility, its not the ideal. He’s hungry, and delaying hunger is never a good idea. Who knows when such a storm will pass? It could be hours, or it could be days. Besides, where the storm creates problems, it also creates opportunities.
People hunker down, and trees fall, and rain creates flooding. Even those who work in emergency service are hesitant to go anywhere in such weather, and whether they ultimately venture forth bravely or not, they won’t be doing so going anywhere quickly, unless they want to possibly find themselves a victim of mother nature.
And that means better opportunities for feeding in relative safety, with sympathy easily won by any who notice him caught out in the wet and the gale.
Even with the wind whipping about and water clearing the air of any scent besides rain, he manages to single out what looks like as good a place as any. Dulled as it is, there’s the scent of flesh and blood and he would guess when he gets closer at the steady sound of a heartbeat tempting his fangs.
But he has to be patient, and bide his time for the right moment. More than three hundred years is plenty enough time to hone his patience, just as experience does for any hungry predator.
Drawing his soaked jacket closer around himself and shivering, only partially feigning discomfort as bright orange locks slick against his neck and face, he raps his knuckles on the door until someone finally answers, a woman who welcomes him in without any questions at all. But then, that’s the advantage of the storm, isn’t it?
❝ Ah– thank you, thank you. Its freezing outside. ❞ He shuffles in quickly, still shivering and shaking some of the water from his face, but not venturing too far so as not to trail water everywhere. ❝ Didn’t think it’d get that bad when I ventured out, but I guess that’s what I get for not checking the weather forecast… sorry, I’m dripping all over your floor. ❞
The sight of him-- soaked through to the very bone, no doubt-- is enough to make her chest ache, and stomach twist with guilt. Though she had no way of knowing to expect company on such a night as this, she feels at least partially responsible for his current state. She could have opened the door for him sooner, after all, had she not had her nose buried in a book-- again.
“Oh, please, don’t worry about that! The floor will be fine if it’s a little wet, but you really should get out of those clothes...” Closing the door behind him, there’s a brief pause as Katerina takes a moment to consider her words. And there’s a muffled groan as she slaps a hand over her eyes, now mortified by her habit of speaking before thinking. “Not that I’m trying to take advantage of you, or anything. I swear. I’ll just-- if you’d like to take a shower to warm up, I can show you to the bathroom.”
Heat beginning to creep its way up her neck and across her cheeks, Katerina attempts to play off her embarrassment as best she can. Alas, the humiliation is strong in its freshness. She clears her throat, and brushes aside more stray dark curls that have adhered to the sides of her face, wet with the rain.
“And while you’re in the shower, I can run your clothes through a quick cycle to dry them, so you’ll have something to wear. Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll fit any of my clothes...So feel free to take as long as you need in the shower! Just, uhm, leave your clothes outside of the bathroom door, and I’ll pick them up.”
--And there she goes; rambling is an automatic response to her embarrassment, unfortunately. She can only hope that this stranger won’t be offended, or worse, by her presumptuousness. The idea of him going back out into that storm simply to get away from her doesn’t seem all that inconceivable after her outburst just now.
