knightsoflegend | paris ♔ tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away

[For the last two hundred years, Helen Magnus has been something of a cheat. She manipulated the forces of life and death, lived several lifetimes, traveled to a new world entirely. But in this moment, she finds herself close enough to death to taste it. With a few tears brimming in her eyes, she soundlessly mouths a single word, a plea for forgiveness for so many things she cannot have a hope to voice.]

Ashley...

[A moment later, things are moving faster than she can hope to keep up with. She feels the jolt of the force of the stake striking it's target, hears the sound of the woman screaming in pain. The loss of the hold around her causes her to stumble forward, one knee striking the pavement with a crack as she catches her self with both hands. Her breath comes in hard pants, still very weak from the blood loss. She manages to look up at the man who speaks, needing to blink to clear her vision enough to see him clearly.]

I'm... [She's not, but that's likely quite evident.] Thank you.

I imagine you must have someone looking out for you. Ms...? [ his forehead creases as the hand he extends to help her up shifts in action to gently tilt her cheek aside so that he can get a better look at her wound, concern making its way into his gaze. ] You're still bleeding out heavily. She left quite a mark. [ he nods to one of the nearby buildings. ] I've only recently rented a room nearby, having tracked them this far. I've the supplies there to get you patched up quickly. [ probably a good idea as helen takes another 2 points of bleed damage whoops. he moves to take her hand in his own gloved one and offer her a very supportive lift to her feet. (str 17) ] Perhaps a bit indecorous, but I don't think we've much time to hold ourselves overly accountable to manners. You're in a very bad way, madam, if I may say so.

[She doesn't fight against the way he tilts her face away, examining the vampire's handiwork. She knows enough about medicine and well.. vampires to know that he's right. She's bad off and need medical attention. The idea of leaving her fallen teammates sickens her, though. And Faith is still out there, still with that man she left the bar with.]

Magnus. [She starts, finally attempting to reply to him and not simply be lost in her own thoughts.] Helen Magnus.

[Cautiously, she wraps her hand around his and lets him lift her to her feet.]

I suppose if I can't trust the man who saved my life, who can I trust? [The poor attempt at a joke falls flat, mainly because she's still traumatized by dead knights and blood loss and worry. She searches the ground for her phone, because she probably dropped it in all of the commotion. But seeing the shattered screen in the glint of the streetlights, she can tell that it won't do her much good.]

Faith... my friend. She'll be looking for me. [Especially now that the call is definitely dead.]

[ he nods once firmly, but seems much more concerned about her injuries right now, gesturing towards some doors a bit down the alley. ] I'll try and track her down for you then. After these wounds of yours are dressed. [ he glances back down once at max and lissa and grimaces. ] And deal with... all this. [ there's a hint of remorse in his voice, perhaps because while he'd been here in timely order to save helen, that clearly wasn't the case all around. still, as he helps her down the alley, he seems to remember that he hasn't introduced himself yet either. ] A pleasure, Ms. Magnus.

Lord Dashiell Amory Roux-Rivage. Dashiell will do.

[She has every intention of coming along for any tracking and dealing with that he does later this evening, knowing that Wynn would want to see his Knights returned home, even if they couldn't be revived. And she doubts Faith would easily trust the word of a mysterious stranger, given the circumstances. But there will be time for such insistence once she's less light headed.]

Dashiell. [She repeats the name, keeping close to him as they walk, one hand trying to apply pressure to her wound.] I'm lucky you arrived when you did. Another moment more and... [There have been moments in her life in which Helen has regretted her longevity, surely. But far more often, she knows that she has so much to live for. Ashley, Rose... The thought of leaving them is too troubling.]

Edited 2015-08-14 12:04 (UTC)

Let's avoid dwelling on what-might-have-beens. [ he gives her a small smile, before opening a door for her. she takes another 2 bleed damage, continuing to fade fast, as he ushers her into a dark foyer, where wooden floorboards creak. it's well decorated, at least, but feels riddled with antiques and a bit dusty. ] What's important is that you're still here.

[Oh no. She's down to like 7 hp. Better get to those bandages soon... Also for the sake of self preservation, I should roll a sense motive so she doesn't just walk into a vampire orgy or something. She got a 33 to try to avoid walking into a trap. Barring any red flags, she follows him inside, feeling herself sway a little as the blood drips past her fingers while she presses a hand to her wound.]

I've survived worse in my time.

That does make an interesting statement about the life you must have led before now. [ he sounds wryly amused, and releases her gently where she can support herself on the wall, as he draws a set of old-looking keys from his pocket and slips one into one of the doors that lines the corridor. the gentleman is rather difficult to read, but that seems to have more to do with his air of casual reaction to slaughtering vampires than to any sinister motives. he pulls the door open with a creak and steps aside, gesturing her into the dark interior. ] Do watch your step. I haven't yet unpacked everything, and some of my trunks are scattered about.

[She refrains from making a comment abut her life before now, but there's a slight lift to the corners of her mouth- a poor attempt at a smile in the face of all the horror she's seen tonight. Her life could certainly be described as interesting. He's not wrong there. She steps into the room, not sure if she can trust her own instincts anymore. But with the rate that she's bleeding, she'd be dead if she ran, so there's at least a chance that he could be genuine in his desire to help her. The darkness and her dizziness do little to help her navigate the room. Her toe catches the corner of a trunk a few feet in and she stumbles (dex 8. it just isn't helen's day.)]

[ ooouuch, that's another 2 bleed. he manages to catch her before she tumbles over with a reflex of 17, holding her in place a moment, before she starts off again tripping her way across the room. ] As I said. [ he holds up a finger, indicating she should stay in place a moment, and then goes to turn on a few lamps here and there so that she can see the room. the furniture is all dark wood, the paint peeling off some of the walls, wispy curtains drawn across the windows. the trunks in question are all rather large and very old, scattered here and there throughout the room in the dim light. he gestures to a velvet lined chair, helping ease her into it. ] Give me a moment to fetch my supplies, Helen. [ once she's settled in, he takes a few brisk steps across the room towards what looks like a bathroom ]

[If I'm tracking correctly, she's down to 5 hp now? It's not much.

She nods weakly as he tells her to stay put, blinking as the lights are turned on. She's in too much of a haze to really take the room in, but she can tell that he's not exactly packing light. Following his guidance, she sits in the chair and lets out a shaking breath. Now without needing to focus on standing, she can watch him more carefully.]

You're hunting them, aren't you? [She says, her voice a bit weak. It's not really a judgmental tone. Her caveat for the whole live and let live policy was the threatening of innocent lives. Those creatures killed two of her teammates and would have had their fill of her if he hadn't stepped in.]

[ she can hear him rooting quickly through things in the bathroom, but he answers in the same measured, calm tone. ] A small group of them, compared to a real coven. The equivalent of their rebellious teenagers, really. Not nearly as dangerous, individually, which is why they're easy enough to kill if one knows how to. I heard they were cutting a bloody swath through this portion of Paris, and ascertained that was likely the cause quickly enough.

And you knew just how to track them. [She says, unable to keep from sounding impressed, despite the dire circumstances.]

Quite the task for one man to take on, alone.

I've my share of experience, with their kind. When facing vampires, numbers aren't necessarily a boon.

[ he comes back into the room, framed in the doorway for a moment with bandages in hand. ] Did you know them well? [ his voice is a bit quieter as he asks the question, clearly aware that if the answer is yes, helen's likely still grappling with the reality of their death. with another 2 blood loss, she's finding it very hard to think straight as she starts to slip away from consciousness. ]

Edited 2015-08-17 19:09 (UTC)

[The edges of her vision start to blur, the light from the restroom making a halo around his shape in the doorway.]

They were under my care. [It was how she saw it, anyway. She was mission leader, after all. Max wasn't all that stable and Lissa was barely more than a child. Her eyes close, heavy from the blood loss and the guilt of what's happened to her fellow Knights.]

I told them to go outside, tried to protect them from his song. [Not that those words will necessarily make any sense.] Too bloody curious for my own good. I should have gone with them. I should have-- [Her voice gets weaker as she goes on, a lump forming in her throat.]

[ he moves closer now, kneeling down beside her chair, and she would catch a whiff of smoke and maybe gunpowder and blood, her own perhaps, replaced by a sharp scent as he twists the cap off a bottle in his hand. he lifts one hand to her jaw, gently pushing her head aside again so that he can examine the wound, the clenching muscles in his own cheek betraying just how bad it must look. ] Death is an inevitability. [ a beat before he adds: ] For most, at least. [ he pours a bit out of the bottle onto the bandage. ] Not much of a comfort, I'm afraid, but neither is dwelling on the mistakes we have made that we can no longer change.

[ he lifts the bandage beside her neck, and his dark eyes shift to hers for a moment, apologetically ] This will hurt, but I can't imagine you wish to risk infection.

[Death is an inevitability. For most, at least.

The words echo in her mind. How many friends, family, colleagues will she manage to bury while she survives for year after year? How many times has she felt as if she would gladly trade her own life to spare theirs? His comment on how much it will hurt draws her out of her own thoughts. Shifting her gaze to meet his, she gives the smallest nod.]

Do it. [She says with firm certainty. Steeling herself, she does her best to keep from crying out in pain (will 25)]

[ undead - daughter

he wasn't lying about the pain, and while helen manages to keep from wincing or making so much as a sound, combined with the pressure on the wound, her last tenuous grip on consciousness begins to slip away entirely. seeming to sense this, he puts his other hand firmly on the other side of her neck to support her when it lolls to the side. the world is a wash of pain and red, and the last thing she hears is that soft accent saying: ] You're very strong, Helen.

[ and then the world rolls away into darkness, unsettled at first but progressively she would begin to feel some sense of self again. visions of the lifeless eyes of lissa and max, lying amid pools of their own blood war with other scenes from her long memory: friends from another world, from this one, rose and dean walking down a hall in the distance, des half-seated on the arm of a chair where zarad is sprawled, both of them looking across the room to her with a suggestive expression that sets her blood pumping, splintered by the sound of her daughter, calling out to her, afraid.

her blood rushes in her ears as she turns, searches for her frantically, until in a flash of red and gold, she's standing in front of her: not the ashley that's come to her again only recently, but the cabal's ashley, possessed of a cold anger, eyes dark red.

death is an inevitability, she hears, the voice muddled, half-dashiell's voice, half someone else, someone painfully familiar, someone making almost a mockery of the words.

a hand on her shoulder, turning her away from what remains of her daughter, and she finds herself staring into a face she hasn't seen in a very long time.

"When you look at her, Helen," he muses. "Who do you see?" ]

[Trying to reach any of her loved ones proves futile, each one of them out of her grasp the moment she reaches for them. And when she finally feels the touch of a hand, it's a heavy weight that puts a chill down her spine. She turns and feels her heart stop for a moment.]

No... [She whispers, glancing away from him, only to find a primitive gun in her hand, a familiar dress adorning her frame. John stands there, still in his long leather coat, the scene a blur of their nearly two centuries of history.]

Don't do this, John. [She had fired the weapon at him once before. It had left him scarred, but she had intended then to kill him, to put him down to save the lives of innocent women.]

I finally found her again. Don't...

[ he steps in closer, and his hand raises to the wrist where she's clutching the gun. he raises it, settling the barrel against his chest, drawing close to her so that the gun is the only thing between them, leaning in as his eyes trace her face, those eyes that hold so much knowledge of her. ] What is it they say? Better the devil you know?

[ his other hand moves to tilt her jaw up gently, much as dashiell did not long before. his lips crane towards hers, curved up at the edge in a dry semblance of a smile, a slight chastisement in his tone. ] You've seen this all play out before. You're playing with fire, Helen.

[ the hand clutching her wrist grips tighter, pulling the barrel even tighter against his chest as he continues to hover inches from her mouth. ] So. Which is it going to be?

[No one has ever made Helen feel small or weak like John Druitt. She had loved him once, but the twisted man he became had left her fearful for her life and the life of her daughter on more than one occasion. Part of her would always love him, but not this man. She would love the man he was when they were young and foolish. With her finger on the trigger, she feels somehow helpless under his taunts and leering looks. Her eyes shut briefly, trying to turn her head away from his mouth but finding she can't manage to look away.]

John, please... [She pleads quietly.] Please, just promise me one thing.

[Her expression shifts, hardens with resolve.]

When you meet the devil, tell him I said hello.

[Her finger curls, pulling the trigger back. Fear rattles in her chest, but she's made her choice and would make it a thousand times over.]

[ there's a bone rattling noise as the shot fires, he recoils backwards, expression riddled with betrayal, but it shifts as he falls backwards, into a knowing, mocking grin, and his fall slows, until he is just vanishing back into nothingness, void. leaving helen standing, gun in hand, alone.

completely alone. all sound vanishes, all phantoms gone.

all that is left is helen, and the trigger she has pulled. ]

[Her eyes close and she lets out a slow breath, her hand opening and dropping the pistol into the darkness. She doesn't dare to think that he's truly gone.]

[ the pistol makes a clattering noise that echoes around her, and then even that sound is gone, and the light vanishes, leaving her swimming in darkness, silent, and oppressively lonely. she's left aching for a connection to something, someone, anything to ground her back into some sort of reality, but for what feels like an infinity, nothing comes.

finally, she feels a hand brushing at her temple, and it's this that brings her back awake, to where she lies, feeling bone tired, in a bed somewhere, only the slightest sliver of moonlight piercing through the dusty window of the bedroom. a figure sits beside her, withdrawing his hand as she wakes. ] Are you alright?

[She stirs at the touch of the hand, face turning towards the sound of a voice. Slowly, her eyes open, blinking to try to focus on just who it is that's there.]

I... [She's not sure how to answer that just yet, too many conflicting emotions and too much confusion.]

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