Konrad Vrdoljiak

(Harlequin)
it had been rich pickings tonight, those fools all so eager to part with thier money anyway that they throw it away in those electronic machines did not notice the shadow that passed through them. did not note the oen who so stealthily weaved his way along the isles of slot jockeys selling ther soul to the gambling god in a hope of jackpot. making some fat gaje richer. no only later when all thier quatres are spent and all thier money gone will they notice the wallet missing. those chips they kept so carefully. those notes all gone. the leather containers tossed carelessly into some rubbishbin as he passed.

now well now well no he relaxes. making his way out of the casino and heading towards the boardwalk he casually juggles 4 apples. that he snagged from a fruit platter in one of the casinos dinning rooms.

(Alexis)
She has returned to the boardwalk for some reason that is unknown to even her, but as a rule, she follows her hunches – the have always proven to be correct. As such, she is now leaning against the wall of some storefront or another, hands tucked into the pockets of leather coat, the heel of a boot resting against the bricks behind next to the other knee, dark gaze scrutinizing, watching, listening, learning something from all those that pass. 99% of her job is observation, after all.
Dark hair pulled back into single thick braid that lays over her shoulder so as not to pull against the bricks, slacks and silk shirt completing the ensemble under that jacket, and she seems unbothered by the cold.
The juggling Harlequin catches her gaze, and she arches a brow, slightly, and as he passes a hand slips from her jacket and faster then she should be snags one of those juggled apples, hand falling to rub it against sleeve and clean it before even teeth snap a bite from succulent fruit.

(Harlequin)
two of the remaining three apples dissapear as if by magick. only one left snagged out of the air. and bitten into. turning slowly to look at she who would take one of his hard earned apples... head titled to the side dark khol lined eyes looking at her. a smile predatory deadly delicious smile

(Alexis)
Two disappear, and she doesn’t take her eyes off him, jaw working as she chews the stolen bite of the apple, another taken and given the same precise work of muscles, teeth and tongue before it’s swallowed. Throughout the long moments (eternity) she simply watches him, and finally she speaks, voice thick with Russian accent, though her English is perfect, and grammatically correct. Precise. “Good Evening, Harlequin.” Teeth tear into the apple again.

(Harlequin)
that brngs him up short mouth about to take its second bite on that green apple. head straightens slowly as dark lithe body sinks into a bow an ever so mocking one at that. a florish of that grey hodded coat. "Good evening my lady" he could be born anywhere either here or on the continent. the soft lilt of his romany tongue hidden behind a smooth facede. "i do not beleive i have had the pleasure""

(Alexis)
Lips curve into a slow smirk, dark gaze unreadable as she keeps that unsettling, direct gaze on him. The mocking bow receives only a slight dip of her chin in acknowledgement, perhaps she believes she deserves such things – mocking or no. Her very bearing speaks of confidence, an aura that surrounds her, almost visibly. “I am positive you have not.” And equally positive that he will not. Glib romany tongue hidden, but not completely, under oh so smooth façade.

(Harlequin)
another bite of that apple slowly chewing it before he swallows tongue darting out to run over lips in that sly seductive manner a single drop of the apples juice frozen for a second before it is claimed and relished. his smile changes subtly as he straightens looking at you eyes sweeping over you predatory once more that sweet hunters smile a predator in human clothing....
"and my most mysterious stalker do you have a name by which i can call you. a name i can savour, something buy which i can define your beauty?"
(Rolling sweet hunters smile - 6D10 Dice Roll: 3; 10; 1; 3; 9; 7)


(Alexis)
She is not watching his lips, and other then the periphery tug at the edges of her vision, her gaze remains locked on his. The sly seduction in that smile seen in the depths of his eyes, and that brow lifts just a touch, and perhaps the smirk softens just a bit at the edges. However, the aura that surrounds her, the confidence in which she holds her very being does not waver. Her voice is as cool as it was with the first words. “Such things defy definition, do they not?” Her beauty, her name, her stalking – any and all of the above. “And thus by an attempt to savor only defiles the inherent beauty within a single name.” She has one, but she is not giving it out. Yet.

(Simon)
There is a fine line between shadow and reality, between darkness and light, on that nebous line there is fathoms and fathoms of depth. In those depths a faint fiew choose to dwell, of those scant few there are fewer still that do so out of choice. Of those very few, a miniscule ammount watch the watchers.
Those few. Those blessed few move though the shadow and wakig worlds sampeling both light and darkness, life and death at their leasiure. They are the judges, the assassins, the choosers of the slain.
Tonight he shadows are long, the winder is upon new jersery, Nights are long and the days short, gray skys aboive disgorge a steady almost unrelenting stream of powery snow. The storm that hit the north east just days ago has abated and in that land of grayness, as the pollutants soil the chrisp whitness a blur moves. Hard to make out at high noon in the middle of a footballfield painted stark white this flickering image is nothing but darkness wrapped in shadow, cloaked in silence and given breath by the storm itself.

It moves along the boardwalk effectivly cloaked from eye and ear alike.

(Harlequin)
"ahhh but i do not wish to defile it or even capture it. what i wish is but to have something by which to describe it. even if in the descrpition it would pale from the reality. something by which i can explain to others what they miss in seeing such a beauty for themselves. " his smile grows wider as he watches her. he is enjoying himself another bite of the apple (it is said that the apple os the fruit of knowing. does that make you eve and harlequin the serpent?)

(Alexis)
She too, continues to eat her apple, merely watching this bastet whom she will soon be called upon to deal with. It is curiosity that brought her hear tonight, it is a hunch that has played him into her hands, perhaps it is merely a deal struck with the devil that shimmers between dark and light and as always watches the young cliath She chooses another bite, and waits a long moment as she considers and chews carefully. Finally, a word – a single syllable that means everything and nothing at all. “Taiga.” (If he is the serpent, she is the winter chill that permeates the soul and fills it with knowledge the moments before death.)

(Jastima Ves’Tacha Nadja)
rrrriinnnggg,ringringringring riiinnnggg

The pealing like an announcement. The bells a message, warning, and invitation in one. The bearer? Striding like she always did, healthy confidence and sultry grace in liquid motion. Poured into soft black leather pants with loops of black bells hanging low on her rolling hips. Jacket ended at her waist, tailored close and tight, in furlined leather as well. What was she trying to prove? That she had the strength to face the next few months as a Rom. Strength. . and a stubborn (I.will.not.break) pride. Making her way down the walk, to the descant of whispers as she passes various Romani ventures.


(Konrad)
Up above, on the roof of the boardwalk boutique, crouched out of sight of the sidewalk directly below: the muscular Alpha. The half-moon set long ago. The rooftop is shrouded in shadow, and he is shrouded all in black.

Just listening. For now. Evaluating performances, if you will.

(Harlequin)
he is on edge yet does not notice anyone else near them. who is connected to this one. how does she know his name. it is not the one he uses when preforming . it would be nice to know. how Taiga (if that is what it is ) rolls of his tongue "thankyou madam. and may i prehaps enquire to how you know of me?"

(Nadja)
She may look casual, calculated, controlled. . . but a tightness to the eyes perhaps? betraying more. She watched tonight, searched. . . and with the smile of an angel falling to earth on her painted lips, she went forth to her own battles. Oh the irony. . . as her eyes fall on one she knew. . . Harlequin. The path of her singing walk changing ever so slightly, to meet him, with his mysterious woman. Too bad. She was Rom, marhime Rom, but still Rom. He could greet his sister before he played wiht his toys.

(Alexis)
Her smile slides once more into a smirk as she watches him, before slender shoulders lift and fall again. He may inquire, but he has not as yet. He merely asked if he could ask the question he wishes the answers too. The Philodox watches him, continuing to work toward the core of succulent fruity flesh, teeth snap, rend, tear, and chew.. smooth throat flexes in swallow that pulls it down to nourish the depths of chill within her frame. Taiga. The winter forests of her home, the frigid depths of wasteland that is so apt to describe who she has become. Chin dips in slight nod, and voice slides thickly accented English free again… “You may.” Permission giving for question to be asked… the judge plays with words as easily as the accused…

(Harlequin)
the sound of bells brings his gaze breifly from the woman in front of him to her that walks towards them. a smile a geniune smile spreads slowly across his face. "sastimos pena"

gaze swiviling back to the woman. so she chooses to mince words. "my sweet lady, prey do sate my curiousity and tell me how is it you know my name?"

(Alexis)
Dark gaze swings toward the approaching woman before soft chuckle is born, at the finally asked question. A final bite of the fruit is taken, and well-aimed toss sees the apple core falling into the nearby garbage can with neat precision. Her hand slips into her pocket again, and only then does she decide to answer. “Simple. Your reputation precedes you.”

(Nadja)
And it comes. That picture perfect smile of beguilement and sweet promise. Gracing lips and filling eyes, drawing off tension and changing body language. The game begins, and she's merely putting on her uniform. A glance cut to Alexis before she responds to Harlequin's greeting, and his smile. Was he happy to see her? Did he see the mark upon her, the black bells (scarlet letter) she bore? Of course, maybe its kinder to not question one of the Blood who doesn't seek to punish her more.

"Sastimos miro prala. Sar san?"

The romani flowing like wine from her mouth, with that faintest accent lending it mystery. I prefer this mystery. . .

Then she comes to stop, casual, looking from Harlequin to the woman. Nothing overt but you could almost think she was posing, that innate is her dancer's grace now.

"Greetings."

(Gallows)
He is there, amidst the late night denizens of the boardwalk, heading away from the vicinity of the pier to casually take in the flashing lights of Atlantic City's sinful pleasures. Frigid ocean breezes rolled off of black oceans to cut across his lean frame. The thickness of his black racing leathers provided protection from the harsh drafts. The heavy thud of his boots echo over the worn planks, moving in a quick rapid succession as he crossed over them. He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his coat, lips pursed together in a grim line as warm air smokes from his nostrils to mis before the weathered lines of his tanned features.

(Simon)
Eyes blink slowly

(Harlequin)
softest of purrrs hidden in that bubbling laugh such a sinister sound, his voice slides low and deep like warm honey, promises of nepharious deeds done between black silk sheets. of dark desires met part threat part promise it pours from between his lips "Really and what would my reputation be?" a step closer, a narrowing of that distance between them hes not exactly tall yet he seems to bring himself up to his full hight to tower that smile the stare becomes especially dangerous deadly. hes trying to intimidate you..

as for nadja well he is marhime due to his mixed blood he is outcaste due to what he is so to issolate her for her black bells, unlikely? he slips into romany to talk to her although he does not move from looking at alexis his gaze does not shift. ~i have been better pena, and you my sweet?~

(Nadja)
She could almost laugh, watching Harlequin at work. The woman no one she knew, not Rom, but gaje, and so the spectacle mildly amusing. ~Hardly the way to win a woman's heart, prala, but then, maybe you lack skill there.~ Such thoughts only fuel her smile. Once more in romani to him.

"Mashkar le gajende leski shib si le Romenski zor. Mishto homme dikava tute. So keres, miro prala?"

Was she being rude by spekaing in a tongue the woman couldn't understand? Oh well. . .

(Alexis)
He steps closer, and still she does not move. He purrs in a bubbling laugh and still again she does not move. His voice promises of heated delight meant to soften winters chill and thaw the ice from well bred veins and still, she. Does. Not. Move.
Intimidation is a tricky thing. On one hand, it turns the sufferer into something akin to jello, it pulls at her stomach and gnaws at her senses and a flicker in her gaze shows this. On the other hand, there is the training, the reservation that comes from who she is, the intensity of the desire to Never. Show. Weakness. One can be tortured for days, suffering the intimidation and outright fear of ones captors, and still it shows only in the tightening of lips, the flash of something in dark eyes, the clench of fists inside the pockets of her coat.
And when one of her training is intimidated, it is true to form to Snap. Back. What happens when your corner a canine…
Her smile is slow, and it slides into dangerous smirk as weight pulls from hips first, the rest of her body flowing from the wall as she closes the distance between them completely and her voice growls across his ear “that of a philandering cat that is unworthy of our time, yet always seems to have his fingers in the wrong bowls… watch your back, kitty cat…”

(Simon) to Konrad Vrdoljiak: He would hear a soft snort of decention. "She told him she knew he was a cat... it's a secret..."

(Nadja)
Well, seeing him otherwise engaged with the gaje gal, she merel smiles a bit. No, let him have his fun. English now for both their benefits.

"Well, Prala. . . I'll leave you to your fun."

Striding off in that entriely too confident way she has.

(harlequin)
for now nadja is ignored there is a more pressing buisness and he is not going to let himself be distracted. he will appologise if he gets the chance later.

the smallest of signs is not missed the tightening of fists the way balls form in jacket pockets the material pulled tight. over clenched fingers and hands. the acrid smell of fear that seems to permeate the air. risine apple slowly to his mouth he bites it stright through sharp teeth cutting through the core snap the geasture is deliberate your spine your neck snap

some they yell they berate they scream, others they are cold emotionless, the threat however is just as deadly help in his voice held in his eyes, his voice is the low sound of someone who would enjoy tieing you up. its the voice of someone who would do all those unspeakable things. the sinful pleasure still flowing "i think prehaps you are the one who should be careful Rikono those who spill words carelessly where all canhear often end up finding themselves without a voice... who told you?"

(Alexis)
Ah.. but a cornered dog will bite, and a cornered intimidated dog will bite harder. Her words still a hissed growl against his ear, the tremble in her body held at bay by ramrod straight posture, the things taught when she was but a child dredged up in memory to strengthen spine and her chuckle falls in growled voice spilled against lobe. “I am far from careless, Romani whore, none can hear but you… and my beta has spilled all knowledge of your slandering ways to my pack. We will teach you manners, or you will die trying.” The truth from the lips of the Judge, as she turns her head slightly into him, breathing deeply of his scent. The object of fear marked in memory..

(simon)
to Konrad Vrdoljiak: his whisper again from the unseen one "She's tipped the hand.. what's the order?"

(Konrad)
to Simon Kovach: Konrad simply raises a hand: hold. Wait.

He's still evaluating.

(Harlequin)
that makes him laugh that bubbling purrrr of a laugh so sinister so sinful so delicious. he circles her slowly not quite touching as he draws a breath in through his mouth and nose tasting smelling breathing her in. hers is a scent he will not forget. that delicious lick of his lips "your pack? " such scorn what you are afraid to fight alone " my little russian harlot obviously you are not as careful as you think, " harlequins not a whore, how dare you even imply such a thing "and your beta told you? who would this marvelous beta who has obviously left you under many a mmisconception be?"

(Konrad)
to Simon Kovach: ...and just like that, he's done evaluating. He leans over and speaks into the nearly invisible Ragabash's ear. Two words.

"Show him."

(Alexis)
So afraid to fight alone, no.. she is not, and her smile is cold as the winter ice across Taiga, clinging to the trees in great daggers of crystalline purity (though within it is melting fast by the tremor that burns in her belly) “Harlot? Is that the best you can do with your pretty words and sinister lips? Do you not know what a beta is? Are you stupid as well as blind? Ah, but your reputation that you so wished to hear of claims such, it is nice to see that it is not a futile rumor spread by lips that could not have known.” And whispered voice stills her own, as chin lifts slightly.

(Harlequin)
"ahhhh simon of the nooooo tail (ooooh you know what hes impying) i should of known, not still crying over the rejection from my pena are you?" he is standing still dead still not a muscle moves a knife to his throat and groin afterall "i take it then you are her beta then"

(Simon)
He remains silent as the blade sticking though the cloth of his pants tilts just enough to slip between his penis and his scrotum. "Come...... Again?"
Ohhhh yes you know what HE'S implying

(Alexis)
She steps back, and with ease resumes her place against the wall, foot propping against brick near her knee as she watches Simon and Harlequin. Her calm restored with the feeling of ‘pack’ and the knowledge he was indeed there to watch. She chuckles, softly, amused, as fingers find slim gold cigarette case, and she takes the time to light one, and tuck it all away, exhaling a slow.. “I believe I told you to watch your back, did I not?”

(Harlequin)
poor poor simon i still have a tootsie pop for you if you like " he laughs he actually laughs hes not intimidated sure hes worried about looking his bits but hes not afraid. time for the bluff. "you shouldnt of let nadja walk off simon that was sloppy of you look around look where we are. this place is crawling with my people" the rom i mean his pena was seen here in thier company "do you really think she just wandered off..."

(simon)
He chuckels having waited for the Rom to run his mouth he flicks his left wrist severing the mans penis even as the point of the right blade presses dangeriously aginst the bottom of his jaw. one pound more pressure and it'll break skin. to be jamed up into his brain. His whisper soft "What makes you think she's still alive? Little puppet..."

(Alexis)
And she? Watches the play as it unfolds before her, smoking in silence.


(Simon)
Harle shifts up into a big furry kitty as the knife plays across his johnson but doens't cut. Simon goes along for the ride as he takes off. Seeing that the viel is well and truly screwed he joins the kitty in crinos. Biting vishiously at the back of his neck trying to incapasitate him. THe kitty runs some more reaching back to grab Simon and pull him over, teeth coming away with mostly fur. Spit ack!!! Simon hits the ground as Konrad makes his move and then once Harle is down he moves forward to fullfill his priomose.

(Konrad)
What happened?

It's a fucking blur. Such is the way of the shifters. Simon makes a small incision - and suddenly the sleek young man is huge, impossibly fast, faster than the human mind can comprehend.

And moving.

Simon reacts nearly as fast, clinging and shifting up with the Bagheera, black wolf on black panther. There's a bite - blood spews - and meanwhile, another huge black form is bounding off the fuckin rooftop, streaking up out of nowhere.

Simon is tossed aside. But by then the black Hispo-wolf has caught up, and bites to crippling effect.

As the Bastet goes down, the Ahroun wheels, sharp claws digging into asphalt for traction as he charges back, faster than the eye can blink, and slams into his Philodox with nearly eight hundred pounds of fury.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!

...raw fury.

(harl)
therea a twitch the only warning he gets before knife slices so close and it raises in him a furious tide of anger body shifts faster than he can blink the black panther making a break for it running. and then the bite on his back teeth sink he screams Brking roar ripping the thing from his back. only to get tackled from the side lights out thats it game over blissful dark flowing in to take away the pain.

(Alexis)
What. Happened.
It’s all a blur and after she stepped back to allow her Beta space to… (there was to be a trial) …capture the bastet, he looses the mind gaia gave him and attacks… they all go furry and freak out and before she can even regain her wits and head to help or stop or anything
There is another blur.
There is 800 pounds of fury slamming her into the unforgiving brick.
Head slams back against the wall and even before she can possibly figure out how much is broken in the full on attack of the Alpha against his Philodox she’s screaming her reply to both them… “THERE WAS TO be a TRIAL are you OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS!” and whiplash fast and furious she snarls through both minds “ Leave. Him. Whole. There was no Trial, there was no honor.” Though it is already to late. She may be killed for her insolence but there was to be a trial to prove her worth, not some fiasco of Ahroun brawn without brain in the middle of the boardwalk even as she’s raging and shifting under the fury still pressed against her.

(Simon)
Getting to the alley he just drops the body on the ground. Giving it a kick. Muttering in croatian "Who's laughing now kitty??"
Kneeling and switching to english he pulls a small blade. carefully wrapped. A skinning knife. Switching to rnglish he smacks Harles cheeks "Stay with me witty one... stay with me. You remember all your insults that you thought I indured? I'm sure you remember them now, yes?"

(Konrad)
She dares?!

Hispo becomes Crinos in the blink of an eye, a massive handpaw closing about her throat and lifting her like a rag doll. The huge Ahroun, thoroughly shorn of anything remotely resembling civilization, wheels about and hurls his Philodox across the street. Then he pauses long enough to throw back his wolven head and roar loudly enough for every fearmaddened human in every apartment on the block to shriek and shudder -

LEAVE HIM BE, BOBTAIL!

That reckoning will come later. For now, the Crinos is bounding across the street in a single leap, landing braced atop the Philodox (who is by now Crinos if she had half a mind at all), caging her in: half a ton of black fur, hot muscle, hard bone, pure blood, and five steelhard talons planted in the center of her chest, holding her down.

She might think she would be killed for her insolence. But the Knife growls low, We merely caught the whelp. It would have been easier. He fought. We adapted. He is whole. He will heal. And there will be a trial when he does.

One week. Be ready.

(harl)
all he gets is a very very pained moan

(Simon)
He beta is there, in homid cooing to the bastet. the skinning knife ready but not in use as of yet. Those pale green eyes flicker up to Konrad as he enteres the space with him. Not a look of defiance but one of accention. He'd done as he was told he waits over the crumpeled body. He'd heard the "one week" Pronouncement. He thought that a bit silly. One night was waiting too long when you had a captive. You wring the information out of it then dispose of the evidence.
He doesn't say this. He just remains there, gently patting Harles cheeks. He knows the fera can hear him even as he moans in pain.

His hand lifts from the Half-Moon's breastbone, and he rears on two legs, shambling-stalking toward the alleyway to see what the cruel Beta was up to.

(Alexis)
She. Dares.
He Shifts, and she flies and with a snarl snaps to Crinos before she is half across the street, landing in a bone jarring crunch of large form the roar shattering windows and sliding and with a bound there are five talons holding her down.
She is not finished yet, but the words are bitten back. They will be spoken at Trial in one week. She. Will. Be. Ready. And Gaia help whomever crosses her between now and then.
Alpha stands and walks away, and she takes a few seconds to heal damage done from rush and throw, before she stands, shifts down again, and stalks away.

(Konrad)
He hasn't bothered to leave the warform. Full-brushed black tail lashing from side to side - agitation, not friendliness - the yellow eyes glower down at the fallen Bastet and then, relenting a notch, at Simon.

Judgment is not your task, Moonless Night. That is the task of the Half-Moon. His eyes are keen; he is more attuned to emotion and expression than many Philodoxes. He can sense his packmate's impatience. Learn to wait. The balance-keepers must have their say. We are not bloodthirsty and rash. We may taint our honor for the good of the Nation, but that does not mean we have none.

Such pretty propaganda, spoken so earnestly. One wonders if he actually believes it.

A claw points down at Harlequin, and the Crinos begins to fade acros the barrier between worlds. Take him away and be sure he does not escape. Bind him with silver.

(Harl)
between here and there konrad sees it flying away a lovely little spirit so out of place in the city a butterfly? in winter. prehaps it was just imagination.

(Simon)
He looks down at the man below him and nods. He would do as he was told. though holding one that was easily found when he had family was still foolish. "Do not find solice in your stay feline."
He leans closer his voice a hiss "Your preshious Nadja...... DO you think we let her go to spread the word? oh no... she screamed... she begged... she pleaded. Offered her body... her soul.... ohhh how her pain transformed her. How her cries were music of the night... Then she broke.... and hearing her mind shatter was like sweet symphony.
SHe fouled her self. and wallowed in it in her fear. All while you were chatting up my packmate, attempting to flirt. Your kin was breaking.

Oh... and your loving family... your preshious Strider allies that sheltered you? Gone. You were the last. The lone. The one we rounded up as a end gap measure.
You will stand trial for your crimes. You will not know peace untill Death. I have a week to play with you. And each... insult you've levied... will be repaied in Full."
His whisper sweet.
"Oh and the little one..... the other bastet... was she special?" Simon strokes Harls hair smearing the blood from his neck wound into it "I'll have to pay her special attention... when games with you bore me."

(Harl)
a soft buzz noise nothing no his body is focused only on the healing for now.