Oh Kurayo. He both loved and hated this place. Loved it for the eternal night, the dark brethren that resided here, how much violence teetered on an unstable pillar of alliance. But the one thing he absolutely hated, the one thing that kept him here for as short a time as he could manage within reason, was the fear of dead zones. Parvpora was rife with them, and one could never be sure when they would pop up. Despite that, Kurayo had certain things that one simply couldn’t find anywhere else. The inhabitants here were hell bent on keeping their ways and beliefs preserved, and that meant rituals as well. More than that, there were wares here that just couldn’t be found in any other location.
So, he'd gathered his coin and made his way to the little moon island. Though he knew well that there were ways to pay here that had nothing to do with traditional currency. His fingers tapped on the bar top, ordering another glass of water accompanied with a shot of rum. His other hand was still cupped against the side of his neck, softly rubbing the fresh puncture wounds. It was a small price to pay for what he’d gotten in exchange, and since he was fortunate enough to not be in the vicinity of a dead zone currently, he was able to slowly restore his blood.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling the effects of a prolonged feeding, and his eyes were half lidded and dim as he drank down nearly half of his water when it was brought. Though they were underneath his clothes, the marks on his skin could barely give off a faint glow. He needed rest, but he wasn’t ready for that and there was still much to do. The eternal night that always fell over Kurayo confused the senses, leading him to believe he’d been awake for much longer and further into the wee hours than he actually had been. Thankfully he had a room here and would be able to rest in a couple of hours.
A familiar voice drifted its way through the tavern chatter and clank of utensils on plates. His eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head ever so slightly to the side to see someone he definitely hadn’t expected. Well, fortune truly did favor him tonight. He smirked and pulled his hood up over his head, though his hair still flowed out freely. Some time had passed since he’d seen Kuval, and his curiosity towards the man hadn’t dwindled. If anything, it had grown stronger.
When he was sure he had left, he counted half a minute in his head before resting down his coins and moving from his spot. The room nearly spun but he regained himself and sent a healing surge through his body with a whispered tune of words as he moved to the door. He caught the ending action of him going down a street and followed that way. He was careful to keep a safe distance though. He knew this area well enough and turned down a separate alley. He wanted to get higher ground to follow him from rooftop to rooftop, fire escapes, whatever he might need to.
The moment he gripped the first rung of a low hanging ladder from one such escape, he felt two strong hands grip his shoulders and pull him back. His eyes widened quickly and he felt his energy spike. Someone had touched him, and that alone was enough to piss him off. When he turned to face them, he saw it wasn’t just one soon to be dead person, it was three. They spoke to each other, their tongues unknown to him, but the hunger in their eyes was a language he knew well. The punctures in his neck stung upon that realization and he rolled his shoulders back, widening his stance at the very clearly understood word they kept passing around: witch. Not in his language, but he’d heard that term thrown around in nearly every tongue by now.
Yes, he knew what they wanted. It was the same reason he had so much currency left on his person, the same reason drinking from him had been enough to get what he came here for and then some: blood was a more sought after payment than anything else for the vampiric inhabitants here. Witch’s blood was that much more wanted, anyone that could wield magick with such prowess was a prime target. But they had nothing to give him and he was finished.
His hand shot out…but nothing happened. Even so, he saw them jerk back in anticipation. Normally he would have reveled in that immediate caution and regret, but not when there was no repercussion to follow it up with. No magick. His heart picked up and he felt the rare sting of fear as he pulled up one of his sleeves. The vein marks were completely dimmed down now: no glow whatsoever, and appeared to just be simple tattoo work. This wasn’t good. That meant he couldn’t heal himself either, any blood they took could drain him straight to death.
While not common for him, he was tempted to run, but they had come to the same realization as he had and were on him instantly. As powerful as he was with magick, less could be said when it came to hand to hand combat with no aid from anything magickal at all. Oh yes, he was strong and he was fast, but not sure footed on hard packed ground: his feet and legs were so accustomed to the soft shift of sand. He managed to get in a few hits and kicks, but these weren’t ordinary opponents, and while he had the physical strength to break bones and bruise ribs, dislocate jaws, it hardly did much against vampires.
The back of his head collided with the brick wall of the alley and suddenly the world turned. A fist came into his stomach and he felt bile rise, but nothing actually came out as his body tried to double. Fingers gripped into his hair, forcing his head to the side as a set of fangs pierced into the side of his neck. The usual pleasure he could take from that action did not present itself when death was on the horizon. Worst of all, if he did perish here, there was no way for his body to be left at sea…That fact bothered him more than the idea of death.