capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO: Ophelia and Khisanth
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Night of the 7th?
WARNINGS: It's a creepy goth who turns people into zombie emo's and a dragon that eats people.
SUMMARY: Ophelia and Khisanth meet!
FORMAT: Para?

Ophelia was stretched out on a bench in central park, the area around her lit up by a lamp twenty feet or so above her, a street lamp that actually worked as brightly as it was supposed to, lighting up the whole area. She had a pearl and grey electric guitar stretched across her lap, and was strumming it absently, the sound twangy and electric and hard despite not being plugged into an amp.

Out on the path in front of her was the female tear drinker she'd had with her almost since she arrived, a young woman dressed in a tattered white wedding dress, holding a ruined white umbrella above her head, her face concealed behind a ruined veil that didn't quite hide the fact that her eyes were glowing with a very unsettling sheen. She was hovering a foot or so off the ground, weaving and twirling through the air in a slow, rhythmic dance that almost followed what Ophelia was playing, and humming softly to herself as she moved. Above her, a grey storm cloud shimmered ten feet off the ground, the cloud cover roiling and boiling silently, perhaps five feet across.

Ophelia wasn't particularly watching her, just looking around at the park itself as she played. There wasn't any pattern to her music, it couldn't be called much of anything except wandering, though it sounded rather odd coming off an electric guitar.

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Well. That's not really a sight one sees every night, is it? Khisanth had been on her nearly-nightly route through the City, flying low and silent and just out of the glare of street lamps, but this deserves a second look.

Central Park is usually too well-lit for her tastes. She prefers to pick her meals off of dark streets and out of shady alleys, but... well, no, she really has to get a better look at this. So with a quick bank to the left and a fold of both wings, Khisanth swoops down low and quiet. She blends in almost exactly with the darkness, right until a flare of her wings lands her at the edge of the lamp light. Then she's an inky shadow just on the edge of sight, all sharp points and long snaking neck.

"I've seen many acts performed for money on the corners of sidewalks in this world," comes her pleasantly deep voice, rumbling out of a barrel chest, "But this might yet be the most interesting."

Ophelia sat up a bit straighter, and there's a tenseness in her figure that wasn't there a moment before. It's not too obvious, she can look relaxed in almost any setting, but it's there. She's eying the shadows where the voice came from, studying it, gauge its size and shape as best she can. Hrm.

"We're not performing for money," she finally says as she settles back a little and plucks another cord on her guitar. "I wanted some air, and she never resists a chance to dance." She glances at the bride, and it hovers a bit closer to the shadowy figure. Not too close, and still seemingly dancing away. But a bit closer.

And the careful observer would notice there is a third figure, nearby, a man dressed almost like a mime, resting against a tree with a shovel in his hands, in the darkness opposite where Khisanth is.

With a dragon's keen night vision, it would have been hard to Khisanth not to notice that third figure. But he's not doing anything interesting, so she ignores him. Her attention is mostly on the most active figure of the bunch, even as she addresses Ophelia. The detail of shrinking proximity hasn't escaped her attention either.

"She'll do well to resist getting too close, if she would like to keep dancing." It's spoken idly, uncaringly, but still carries the hint of a warning. The strange figure reminds Khisanth strangely of the creatures of the Abyss, and she can still feel their desperate clawing at her scales. Not an experience she'd like to repeat.

And that aside, she is still awfully hungry. Interesting act or no, dinnertime waits for no dragon.

"She'd dance into lava if I asked her to," Ophelia said with a faint shrug, strumming another cord. "And she'd do it with a smile and a song." Ophelia gave her tear drinkers power, but she demanded from them too. So far these two hadn't been asked, but she knew they would do what was needed if it came down to that.

"Feel free to stop hiding, though. If you can," her head tilted to the side, dark hair writhing around on her shoulders. "How big are you?"

Oh, well, that's interesting. Khisanth considers the dancing... maybe-human (she smells human, but different) with a little more interest. Is it mentally enslaved? Or simply that obedient? Maybe she'll find out later.

"I'm not hiding." It's a purr, spoken with the lazy confidence of someone who has never needed to hide. And then, with a whispered word of magic, the area fills with light. Not the blinding sort, as she usually casts, but enough to illuminate her full, black-scaled length of body. A creature as vain as Khisanth is has to show off every inch of gleaming scale and pearly claw, and the right lighting is terribly important.

Ophelia is genuinely startled at what she sees in that flare of light, though luckily she's very good at hiding it, and after a split second the surprise is gone from her face. Huh. She'd never seen a creature like that, but legends spoke of dragons. In the ages of the metal gods there had been dragons and demons, she knew that.

But they'd all been long gone by the time she came along.

"Apparently not. How do you manage to live in a city this congested being that large?"

She lets the light fall dark again after a few seconds, and appreciates, as always, how the dark seems even darker afterward. For a few seconds, at least, it even soothes her appetite.

"I have a few tricks." None of which she's willing to share, of course, and the silky tone makes that clear.