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crooked_lossTitle: Teeth
Summary: Rayne takes care of her end of the deal, and discovers something about Angie that really, really ticks her off.
Timeline: September 2012 - Supe!AU - Rayne is 98, Angie is 24. This immediately takes place after Monster.
Challenge: Cotton Candy #24 (decoy), Carob #29 (realization), Molasses #22 (false start)
Toppings/Extras: Malt (Summer Challenge 2010 - Human no more), Chopped Nuts, Fresh Peaches (8/19/2010 - Even if you have to work today, there's always the evening to enjoy.)
Rating: PG-13
At first Angie thought she had been hallucinating. It wouldn’t have surprised her. For the past few hours, she had faded in and out of consciousness, the ragged bites at her elbows and wrists and neck burning and sending a deep ache into her body that she had never felt before. The deepest bruises hadn’t hurt like this, and neither did broken bones. This was something completely different, something new and terrifying that paralyzed her when she was awake enough to actually try and think or move.
So when the clink of metal against metal brought her mind swimming back to the surface, her eyes had rolled in her head before she was able to see; it took even longer for the world in her view to come into focus. Angie had only made a choked sort of surprised gurgle at finding the woman kneeling next to her, odd looking fingers messing with the locks that were keeping Angie chained down. If the restraints had allowed her any movement at all, she would have jerked back, but the sound was enough to make her look up.
Red eyes started back at her, from a pale blood spattered face with fangs showing behind barely parted lips. The sight wasn’t exactly comforting, and somewhere in the back of her foggy mind, Angie wondered if she should be a bit more alarmed than this. Again, she tried to speak, but it came out as little more than a rasp that burned at her throat.
“Oh, stop it. That’s just pathetic.” The other woman said in response as she lowered her head to work on the locks. “Besides, this is hard enough to do without hearing your whining. And here I was thinking that faeries were a bit tougher than this. A few bites, some drained blood, and some chains, and you’re no worse than a human would be. Pathetic.”
The words made no sense to her, for how long they stayed in the front of her mind. Still, Angie quieted and watched her work with vision that went in and out of focus. More than once, she must have blacked out; she would blink, and the woman would be working on another lock, unraveling another chain. Eventually, she felt a hand on her shoulder, the fingertips digging in painfully against the joint as she was shaken awake.
“I’m not carrying your ass out of here. Wake the fuck up.”
Angie came back to again, a bit faster than before now that she could roll over and get her bearings, and take a few deep breaths. The bites still burned, and brought back memories that were straight out of some lame video game. Before she knew it, she was screaming, and there was a sharp sting on her cheek that shocked her out of it. The woman, her savior or whatever she was, had slapped her, and Angie realized a moment later that her cheek had started to bleed.
For a split second, the woman’s eyes glowed before she seemed to straighten and get a hold of herself. “You wouldn’t shut up. No one is around to hear you scream, but I didn’t feel like listening to it either. So don’t do it anymore, and we’ll get along just fine.” The last part was heavy with sarcasm that seemed to fit her.
Angie mumbled something that probably would have been “Doubt it.” if her voice had probably worked. As such, it came out as little more than a grating squeak, and she winced at the pain it caused. The redhead kneeling in front of her only raised an eyebrow.
“Right. I guess I should get that fixed so you can actually answer some questions before I drag your sorry ass back home.” In a blur, she was gone. Angie blinked, wondering if she had lost time again, and she was back, holding out a piece of metal that had been bent and dented into a cup like shape, filled with what looked like puddle water. It tasted of rust and dirt when Angie was able to actually drink it, and she couldn’t remember anything so glorious in her life.
When it was gone and she was gasping for air, Angie was finally able to talk. “...Who are you?”
She gave her a sharp glance, and there was a long silence. Angie was grateful to see her eyes recede from red to a bright emerald green before she answered. “Rayne. I’ve been sent to collect you.” With that she stood and walked away, and Angie was left to try and stand and stumble after her.
She got to her feet just fine, before her world spun and the ground went out from under her. She hit the concrete floor with a dull thud and pain shot through her already abused body. There were footsteps from nearby, the sound of heels on concrete before a disgusted sigh.
“Pathetic. I am going to have to carry your ass out of here, aren’t I?”
Angie saw black boots fill her spotty vision, the spiked heels glinting in the low light. She must be seeing things. She must have gone insane sometime during the day. Nobody, not even Lady Gaga, wore six inch heels coated in solid silver. But then her world was tilting again, and she felt delicate but impossibly strong arms under her knees and around her shoulders, and those horribly painful fingertips again pressing into her shoulders and knees. She felt a flush of embarrassment at having to be carried around like a child, but said nothing of it. Instead, she tried to focus on righting her world and keeping the contents of her stomach in place.
She seemed to do well enough with that. Rayne moved briskly but gracefully, and was much more silent than any person had a right to be in shoes like hers. As they walked into a room that was just as familiar as the room she had been chained in, Angie felt a flash of panic.
She had been dragged in through the doorway on the opposite side of where they walked, she had been thrown on that table, and had her shirt ripped off, and had been held down while those bastards loomed and kneeled over her and bit...
The next thing she knew, she was flailing in Rayne’s arms as bile climbed up her throat. Unsurprisingly, the woman let her fall and Angie hit the ground hard. She barely had time to pull herself to her hands and knees before vomiting, her stomach and throat straining with the action.
It was moments before she was able to stop being sick, to crawl away and again collapse, a sheen of seat covering her body. A cynical part of her mind popped up to say she must look wonderful, shirtless and bruised and bitten, sweaty with flecks of sick around her mouth. Oh, and a bleeding cheek. Mustn’t forget that part.
That sound was there again, just out of her line of vision, heels on concrete. Silver coated heels on concrete, Angie mentally corrected herself, though she had no idea in the world why it would matter. She avoided looking at Rayne’s expression as she knelt in front of her, and decided to stare at those odd boots instead. How much would those cost, she wondered?
There was a long and suffocating silence before Rayne spoke. “If it helps at all, I killed them. It wasn’t in the bargain, but they were in my way, and very annoying. They left me little choice. So, you’re going to have to use that information to help you get over this little episode for now until I get you where you need to go. Got it?”
Oddly, that did help. At least the thought that it wouldn’t be able to happen again left her, along with the nausea. “...Thank you.” Angie eventually muttered. “But... How did you know where to find me? Who sent you? What were those... things that attacked me, and why? Why were your eyes glowing? None of this shit is making sense, and it’s starting to piss me off, because I don’t like when I don’t know things.”
There was that silence again, but it was less suffocating than before. Angie glanced up to see Rayne staring down at her with a very intense stare, and then looked anywhere else. Her gaze came to rest on Rayne’s hands, which were dangling between her knees; immediately, she blanched at what she saw, felt herself gagging as she pushed herself way as fast as she could. Her fingertips. Something was seriously wrong with her fingertips.
Rayne continued to stare at her, now with a raised eyebrow and a bit of confusion mixed in with that intensity, as Angie pressed her back against the closest wall and looked at her with widening blue eyes. It was a moment before she realized what the problem was.
“Oh. Yes. That tends to happen when we fight.” Raising her hand to look at the digits, Rayne only blinked at the sight of rather hard and sharp looking bones protruding from her fingertips to give her an extra joint. As she looked at them, the bones in her fingers and hands shifted and shrunk back into place, her torn fingertips mending. As the fingernails began to grow back, she heard Angie retch. Again.
Faeries.
“If you’re quite finished?” Rayne drawled after the second bout of vomiting had finished, and Angie was shakily wiping her mouth with the back of her forearm. “You’re pretty fucking weak stomached for a faerie, you know that? What the hell your sister wants you back for, I don’t think I understand at all. You might as well be a human.”
Now it was Angie’s turn to stare at Rayne, incredulous and fearful, through eyes that were teared up from being sick. “...What - What are you? What are you talking about?” There was a hint of panic in her voice now as the day’s events came crashing down on her, and she started to shake. “I don’t have a sister. I’m not - a fucking faerie, or whatever you keep saying, and you - have fangs and bone fingers and I just want to wake up from this! Why can’t I wake up from this?”
In the back of Rayne’s head, a few niggling suspicions about this entire thing slowly began to piece together. Before Angie could realize what was happening, or even blink, Rayne had her pinned against the floor, her mouth at her neck, and Angie screamed at the burning that erupted from the curve where her neck met shoulder. Pulling back, Rayne licked her lips and tasted something that was definitely very strong magic.
Underneath her, Angie screamed and writhed and shook, partially begging for Rayne to not kill her, not to bite her, don’t make her go through that again. Rayne considered slapping her again to make her shut up but decided against it. Instead, she gave the blonde one firm shake that knocked her head against the concrete and stopped the babbling with a pained gasp.
She watched blue eyes go out of focus for a long moment before Angie slowly started to come back to herself, and the vampire gave a snort of something that was part morbid amusement and part annoyance. “Jumpy thing, aren’t you?” She asked before reaching out to grasp Angie’s jaw and turn her head to the side. What she saw displeased her quite a bit.
There, at the bend of her neck, where it curved into her shoulder, Angie’s skin had peeled back like the skin of a rotten peach. Underneath was leaf green skin, with a hint of pumpkin orange, a rare but familiar symbol branded into her skin.
Rayne snarled from somewhere low in her chest. That fucking faerie bitch had sent her after a changeling.
Summary: Rayne takes care of her end of the deal, and discovers something about Angie that really, really ticks her off.
Timeline: September 2012 - Supe!AU - Rayne is 98, Angie is 24. This immediately takes place after Monster.
Challenge: Cotton Candy #24 (decoy), Carob #29 (realization), Molasses #22 (false start)
Toppings/Extras: Malt (Summer Challenge 2010 - Human no more), Chopped Nuts, Fresh Peaches (8/19/2010 - Even if you have to work today, there's always the evening to enjoy.)
Rating: PG-13
At first Angie thought she had been hallucinating. It wouldn’t have surprised her. For the past few hours, she had faded in and out of consciousness, the ragged bites at her elbows and wrists and neck burning and sending a deep ache into her body that she had never felt before. The deepest bruises hadn’t hurt like this, and neither did broken bones. This was something completely different, something new and terrifying that paralyzed her when she was awake enough to actually try and think or move.
So when the clink of metal against metal brought her mind swimming back to the surface, her eyes had rolled in her head before she was able to see; it took even longer for the world in her view to come into focus. Angie had only made a choked sort of surprised gurgle at finding the woman kneeling next to her, odd looking fingers messing with the locks that were keeping Angie chained down. If the restraints had allowed her any movement at all, she would have jerked back, but the sound was enough to make her look up.
Red eyes started back at her, from a pale blood spattered face with fangs showing behind barely parted lips. The sight wasn’t exactly comforting, and somewhere in the back of her foggy mind, Angie wondered if she should be a bit more alarmed than this. Again, she tried to speak, but it came out as little more than a rasp that burned at her throat.
“Oh, stop it. That’s just pathetic.” The other woman said in response as she lowered her head to work on the locks. “Besides, this is hard enough to do without hearing your whining. And here I was thinking that faeries were a bit tougher than this. A few bites, some drained blood, and some chains, and you’re no worse than a human would be. Pathetic.”
The words made no sense to her, for how long they stayed in the front of her mind. Still, Angie quieted and watched her work with vision that went in and out of focus. More than once, she must have blacked out; she would blink, and the woman would be working on another lock, unraveling another chain. Eventually, she felt a hand on her shoulder, the fingertips digging in painfully against the joint as she was shaken awake.
“I’m not carrying your ass out of here. Wake the fuck up.”
Angie came back to again, a bit faster than before now that she could roll over and get her bearings, and take a few deep breaths. The bites still burned, and brought back memories that were straight out of some lame video game. Before she knew it, she was screaming, and there was a sharp sting on her cheek that shocked her out of it. The woman, her savior or whatever she was, had slapped her, and Angie realized a moment later that her cheek had started to bleed.
For a split second, the woman’s eyes glowed before she seemed to straighten and get a hold of herself. “You wouldn’t shut up. No one is around to hear you scream, but I didn’t feel like listening to it either. So don’t do it anymore, and we’ll get along just fine.” The last part was heavy with sarcasm that seemed to fit her.
Angie mumbled something that probably would have been “Doubt it.” if her voice had probably worked. As such, it came out as little more than a grating squeak, and she winced at the pain it caused. The redhead kneeling in front of her only raised an eyebrow.
“Right. I guess I should get that fixed so you can actually answer some questions before I drag your sorry ass back home.” In a blur, she was gone. Angie blinked, wondering if she had lost time again, and she was back, holding out a piece of metal that had been bent and dented into a cup like shape, filled with what looked like puddle water. It tasted of rust and dirt when Angie was able to actually drink it, and she couldn’t remember anything so glorious in her life.
When it was gone and she was gasping for air, Angie was finally able to talk. “...Who are you?”
She gave her a sharp glance, and there was a long silence. Angie was grateful to see her eyes recede from red to a bright emerald green before she answered. “Rayne. I’ve been sent to collect you.” With that she stood and walked away, and Angie was left to try and stand and stumble after her.
She got to her feet just fine, before her world spun and the ground went out from under her. She hit the concrete floor with a dull thud and pain shot through her already abused body. There were footsteps from nearby, the sound of heels on concrete before a disgusted sigh.
“Pathetic. I am going to have to carry your ass out of here, aren’t I?”
Angie saw black boots fill her spotty vision, the spiked heels glinting in the low light. She must be seeing things. She must have gone insane sometime during the day. Nobody, not even Lady Gaga, wore six inch heels coated in solid silver. But then her world was tilting again, and she felt delicate but impossibly strong arms under her knees and around her shoulders, and those horribly painful fingertips again pressing into her shoulders and knees. She felt a flush of embarrassment at having to be carried around like a child, but said nothing of it. Instead, she tried to focus on righting her world and keeping the contents of her stomach in place.
She seemed to do well enough with that. Rayne moved briskly but gracefully, and was much more silent than any person had a right to be in shoes like hers. As they walked into a room that was just as familiar as the room she had been chained in, Angie felt a flash of panic.
She had been dragged in through the doorway on the opposite side of where they walked, she had been thrown on that table, and had her shirt ripped off, and had been held down while those bastards loomed and kneeled over her and bit...
The next thing she knew, she was flailing in Rayne’s arms as bile climbed up her throat. Unsurprisingly, the woman let her fall and Angie hit the ground hard. She barely had time to pull herself to her hands and knees before vomiting, her stomach and throat straining with the action.
It was moments before she was able to stop being sick, to crawl away and again collapse, a sheen of seat covering her body. A cynical part of her mind popped up to say she must look wonderful, shirtless and bruised and bitten, sweaty with flecks of sick around her mouth. Oh, and a bleeding cheek. Mustn’t forget that part.
That sound was there again, just out of her line of vision, heels on concrete. Silver coated heels on concrete, Angie mentally corrected herself, though she had no idea in the world why it would matter. She avoided looking at Rayne’s expression as she knelt in front of her, and decided to stare at those odd boots instead. How much would those cost, she wondered?
There was a long and suffocating silence before Rayne spoke. “If it helps at all, I killed them. It wasn’t in the bargain, but they were in my way, and very annoying. They left me little choice. So, you’re going to have to use that information to help you get over this little episode for now until I get you where you need to go. Got it?”
Oddly, that did help. At least the thought that it wouldn’t be able to happen again left her, along with the nausea. “...Thank you.” Angie eventually muttered. “But... How did you know where to find me? Who sent you? What were those... things that attacked me, and why? Why were your eyes glowing? None of this shit is making sense, and it’s starting to piss me off, because I don’t like when I don’t know things.”
There was that silence again, but it was less suffocating than before. Angie glanced up to see Rayne staring down at her with a very intense stare, and then looked anywhere else. Her gaze came to rest on Rayne’s hands, which were dangling between her knees; immediately, she blanched at what she saw, felt herself gagging as she pushed herself way as fast as she could. Her fingertips. Something was seriously wrong with her fingertips.
Rayne continued to stare at her, now with a raised eyebrow and a bit of confusion mixed in with that intensity, as Angie pressed her back against the closest wall and looked at her with widening blue eyes. It was a moment before she realized what the problem was.
“Oh. Yes. That tends to happen when we fight.” Raising her hand to look at the digits, Rayne only blinked at the sight of rather hard and sharp looking bones protruding from her fingertips to give her an extra joint. As she looked at them, the bones in her fingers and hands shifted and shrunk back into place, her torn fingertips mending. As the fingernails began to grow back, she heard Angie retch. Again.
Faeries.
“If you’re quite finished?” Rayne drawled after the second bout of vomiting had finished, and Angie was shakily wiping her mouth with the back of her forearm. “You’re pretty fucking weak stomached for a faerie, you know that? What the hell your sister wants you back for, I don’t think I understand at all. You might as well be a human.”
Now it was Angie’s turn to stare at Rayne, incredulous and fearful, through eyes that were teared up from being sick. “...What - What are you? What are you talking about?” There was a hint of panic in her voice now as the day’s events came crashing down on her, and she started to shake. “I don’t have a sister. I’m not - a fucking faerie, or whatever you keep saying, and you - have fangs and bone fingers and I just want to wake up from this! Why can’t I wake up from this?”
In the back of Rayne’s head, a few niggling suspicions about this entire thing slowly began to piece together. Before Angie could realize what was happening, or even blink, Rayne had her pinned against the floor, her mouth at her neck, and Angie screamed at the burning that erupted from the curve where her neck met shoulder. Pulling back, Rayne licked her lips and tasted something that was definitely very strong magic.
Underneath her, Angie screamed and writhed and shook, partially begging for Rayne to not kill her, not to bite her, don’t make her go through that again. Rayne considered slapping her again to make her shut up but decided against it. Instead, she gave the blonde one firm shake that knocked her head against the concrete and stopped the babbling with a pained gasp.
She watched blue eyes go out of focus for a long moment before Angie slowly started to come back to herself, and the vampire gave a snort of something that was part morbid amusement and part annoyance. “Jumpy thing, aren’t you?” She asked before reaching out to grasp Angie’s jaw and turn her head to the side. What she saw displeased her quite a bit.
There, at the bend of her neck, where it curved into her shoulder, Angie’s skin had peeled back like the skin of a rotten peach. Underneath was leaf green skin, with a hint of pumpkin orange, a rare but familiar symbol branded into her skin.
Rayne snarled from somewhere low in her chest. That fucking faerie bitch had sent her after a changeling.
