Full Moon Rising || Lyra & Dorian
Lyra hides under a table and a certain rich party organizer finds her...
Dorian was pleased. Standing over the ballroom with blood streaked across the floor as he could hear shouting in the distance. The police would take a while to come, and he had his story planned for them. He stepped around the blood, surveying the room, simply taking a moment to admire it before it would be taped up. It was then he noticed the last thing he expected to see. "Lyra?" He ducked his head under the dessert table, how long had she been there? "Did you watch the whole thing? Oh, you poor girl, come. You shouldn't be here." She was ruining his moment.
Lyra could barely believe her eyes as she peeked out from under the dessert table, thankful that it hadn't been upturned in the chaos. She hadn't expected to find herself a spectator to the carnage, but when they came crashing in, her first instinct was to hide, and her drunken mind wasn’t able to remind her that running would have probably been a better choice. It was an instinct she regretted even more as the table cloth was suddenly flipped up to reveal Dorian Davenport staring down at her, his expression unreadable and a chill ran down her spine. It took her a moment to find her voice, and she barely recognized the sound as she spoke. “I-I didn’t know what to do.”
"Oh," Dorian shook his head, extending a hand to help her up. "Don't worry. I simply though most people would have ran at the sight of large...hairy creatures." He paused, "why did you stay?"
"I- um- I just acted on instinct, I guess?" She murmured, her throat suddenly dry. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she took his hand, staggering to her feet. Goosebumps ran up her arm and she found herself speaking again, her voice as soft and unassuming as she could make it. "Your wine does it's job well, and I may have overindulged."
Dorian narrowed his gaze on her, he didn't peg her to be a liar, but he could hardly believe she was being honest. He gripped her hand tightly has he helped her up, just a little too tight to be comfortable before snapping his hand back. "Is that so?" he growled, "maybe you should stay and have more? Why don't you tell me how you came to have such prying eyes."
Lyra felt her stomach drop as his grip tightened around her hand, before being pulled away. Part of her knew that the reason she stayed was just her own stupid curiosity, her fascination by all things supernatural--and the werewolves that attacked definitely fit under that descriptor--but she doubted he would appreciate her reasoning. Moreover, it really had been a subconscious decision to stay, her functioning brain having taken off after the third glass of wine. “I- um- I should find my sister. She’d probably worried and looking for me.”
“No!” Dorian barked, eyes glowing with red power as the door leading out to the ballroom smashed shut with invisible force. “Stay,” he reached out to grip her arm, tight and uncaring if she bruised under his grip. “It’s dangerous out there, don’t you know? There’s monsters. Stay where it’s safe. I’ll call your sister.” There should be 22 dead, just as the ritual detailed, but there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that one was missing. And it very well could have been Lyra.
Eyes widening in surprise and fear, Lyra backed away from Dorian, her mind trying to clear through what was left of the haze in her mind to figure a way out of the mess she’d gotten herself into. She honestly had no idea if her sister was even at the party, nevertheless whether or not she’d know she was missing. As his eyes glowed red, Lyra’s heart rate spiked, and she suddenly her mouth was moving and words were pouring out, her mind coming up with something resembling a plan. “Yeah, no, you’re probably right.” Shoving her hands into her pockets, she moved around towards the window as naturally as she could. “I- um- I’ll just wait here, if that’s okay? I- there’s- I just want to be further away from-.” She trailed off, glancing at the carnage by her feet.
He let her go, slowly, reluctantly. But her answer pleased him, and Dorian new better than to draw any more suspicion to him now. "Fine, I understand." He glanced down, blood covering expensive marble floors. "Have you seen blood before?" He asked, "I came home once to it, since then it looks like nothing to me..." he trailed on, not paying attention to Lyra. "It's our life, this disgusting red fluid, but I feel nothing for it. Not since it was stripped of me..."
Lyra felt her own blood run cold as he spoke, looking at the blood with a detached kind of- apathy? She couldn’t quite tell what his angle was, but she knew for sure, it was nothing good. “I have, but nothing like this.” She answered honestly. As he continued to speak, Lyra could tell he was drifting off in his thoughts and she took the opportunity to move closer to the broken window, trying to mentally orient herself. The last thing she heard him say before she broke into a run was chilling, but it only served to compel her to run faster. not since it was stripped of me. The thought alone sent adrenaline pulsing through her as her legs pumped under her, carrying her away from the house as fast as they could.
It took Dorian a moment to notice his missing audience, but as anger drained from him and the coldness he was used to settled in, he found himself not caring. He stepped up to the window she'd darted out of, watching her with curiosity. "Poor girl," he whispered. Without flinching, he snapped his fingers, red magic fluttering around them as she watched a shadow jump out from the bush and give chase to Lyra. The creature dropped to all fours and sped after her, effortlessly flying bye her. "Hanged," it growled, "hanged man." The wolf creature clung to Lyra's legs, pulling her to the floor as it dug it's nails into her right leg, slashing her in one long swipe.
The scream that tore from Lyra’s throat echoed through the trees as she found herself suddenly grounded, the searing pain shooting up from her leg nearly blinding her. Running on pure adrenaline, she forced her aching body to roll and began to kick at the creature--the werewolf--with her left leg. Thinking as quickly as she could, she reached up and pulled out her earrings as it lunged at her again. Shifting to the side, she just barely managed to avoid its chomping jaws, before stabbing at it’s neck, sinking the fish hook earrings into the skin just under its ear. With a loud howl, the creature stumbled back and Lyra used the last of her strength to hold her weight on her good leg, moving towards the sound of sirens in the distance, praying to gods she wasn’t sure existed that the werewolf behind her would abandon it’s task and she might get out of this situation alive.
Dorian watched, he was always watching. He hated that about himself, but in this moment there was nothing to do but watch. The werewolf's cries reached even his ears and he whistled out, impressed. He didn't know it then but he was right, there were only 21 bodies. And Lyra didn't know it then either, but Dorian knew she was meant to be the 22nd. If Dorian Davenport wanted to be known for one thing, it was his ability to fix mistakes, and Lyra was a mistake he was ready to fix. Nothing would stand in his way now. Nothing.
